#man thinks he's better than pretty much everyone

[schrijverr]

Do They Know They Have Shared Custody?

Chimney and Hen can’t help but observe Buck be parental towards Chris, acting as his second dad. The question, however, becomes; does he know? And does Eddie know? A thrilling case that get concluded when Chris gets in trouble at school.

On AO3.

Ships: Buck/Eddie

Warnings: none

~~~

Buck and Eddie have become BuckandEddie almost immediately at the end of their first shift, speedrunning their way to becoming friends and solidifying themselves as a team during the earthquake.

The 118 is happy to see the two get along so well. They’re all family, but having a partner in the field that you are that close with is a good way to stay alive, something both can use, since they’re prone to running into danger. At least now they’re doing it with backup.

They also know that their friendship extends out the firehouse. All of them see each other off the clock with family dinners and big hangs out being organized regularly, but much like Hen hangs out with Chimney and Athena separately, Buck and Eddie hang out alone too. It’s impossible not to know that, despite Eddie’s reserved nature, because Buck will tell everyone what he’s been doing at any given point in time, no matter how embarrassing or unasked for.

Not that the 118 will ever ask him to stop, Buck oversharing is one of the foundational pieces of them as a team. Everyone knows that. Even Eddie, who always looks over fondly when Buck recounts movie night or what he and Chris did that weekend. It keeps them all sane, fills the silence and ensures they keep going.

So, yeah, all of them know how close Buck and Eddie are, how close Buck is with Christopher. The three of them are a little unit, despite of what else might be happening in their lives.

However, because Buck shares everything and Eddie lets him, even when whatever story Buck is telling embarrasses or implicates him as well, it comes as a shock when it seems that there is more to the Buckley-Diaz connection than they’ve been privy too.

It starts with Buck bringing a bunch of cookies to the firehouse. That in itself is a little unusual, but no one is going to question baked treats.

Well, no one was going to question baked treats, until Buck starts grilling them about them, asking them which they liked best and which one looked the best and, hey, these are the same but a day old, do they still taste good, or bad, or better?

“Okay, what is happening?” Hen asks when Buck is practically taking notes on her answers.

Surprisingly – or unsurprisingly really now that they think about it – it’s Eddie who answers. “Chris has a bake sale next week, this idiot made us sign up to provide cookies to sell. He and Chris have turned it into a whole mission.”

“You can’t show up at a bake sale with store bought cookies, Eddie. Everybody knows that,” Buck huffs in a way that indicates this is not the first time they’ve had this argument.

“No one is going to care, they know we’re busy as firefighters and don’t always have time,” Eddie argues.

“Yes, which is why it’s extra important to do this right,” Buck points out. “With our schedules we can’t promise being available for anything else, but this can be done in advance. Your parent participation standing is very low with the PTA, you can use the boost this gives you.”

“Okay, if it is for Eddie’s social standing with the other parents, why are you baking cookies?” Chimney asks, taking another bite from his cookie.

“Have you seen this man in a kitchen?” Buck scoffs. “He can’t cook or bake to save his life.”

“Hey, I can cook,” Eddie protests, though it’s more a token protest that dies out pretty soon after Buck gives him a disbelieving look.

“I think it’s sweet that you’re helping,” Hen says. “God know how difficult parent participation can be, I don’t know where I’d be without Karen.”

None of them catch the implication of comparing Buck to Karen, the partnership of BuckandEddie too normal for them to do so. Instead, Buck just crows: “See, I told you.”

“I know, I just think you’re doing a lot and it’s sweet, but don’t feel obligated,” Eddie humpfs, partially giving away what he really feels; guilt.

Naturally, Buck catches on immediately, sending him a big smile as he says: “Hey, I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. Baking is fun. I’m actually teaching Chris so he might survive on his own when he ever moves out.”

“Oh god, don’t talk about Chris moving out,” Eddie replies, sounding horrified at the thought of his son being old enough to fly the nest.

Everyone laughs at him and continues to rib him for becoming old. The whole incident partially forgotten until the next one occurs a few weeks later.

Both Buck and Eddie are requesting the same night off, leaving it a hassle to get the right shifts switched around to make it happen. Chimney complains: “The A shift without you two is going to be so boring and the whole dynamic is going to be thrown off. What are you guys even doing that’s so important anyway?”

“It’s parent-teacher night at Chris’s school,” Buck explains easily.

“And you need time off for that because…?” Chimney asks.

“Well, tía Pepa is watching Chris and last time Carla went with him, but she already has a thing then, so I’m going as backup instead. Two remember more than one,” Buck answers, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I already know some of the teachers from pick-up. Plus, we helped at the bake sale. It’s not like I’m a new face.”

“You can do that?” Chimney sounds surprised. “Just bring whoever?”

“I mean, they’re going to ask who you are and judge you about it, yeah, but it’s not illegal to bring someone if they have a connection to the child,” Buck shrugs.

It says a lot about who they are that Chimney doesn’t even think to question whether or not Buck has a connection to the child and whether or not Buck will get a negative judgment when introduced or that it’ll be a weird introduction. He’s Buck, of course it’s normal for him to go to parent-teacher night.

In fact, Chimney doesn’t even question it until the shift is there and the people from the B shift that are filling in ask where the two usuals are, giving Chim a weird look when he relays the information.

Still, they don’t actively start questioning it, until the third time it happens. Eddie is working out, while Chimney and Hen are restocking the ambulance, when Buck, who is helping Bobby with dinner, suddenly appears at the banister and calls down: “Hey, Eddie! It’s gonna be just us today, Chris is hanging out with his friends, he’s eating dinner with the Walters tonight.”

Eddie just nods and calls back: “We should get burgers then.”

Buck throws his head back as he laughs, before grinning down: “At some point he’s gonna figure out we eat unhealthy when he’s not there, you know.”

“But until then…?” Eddie asks with a mischievous look.

“Until then we’re definitely getting burgers,” Buck replies matching his look.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Hen asks, poking her head out from the ambulance, sharing a confused look with Chimney that seemingly flies over both Buck’s and Eddie’s head.

“Oh, Eddie is a dumbass,” “Oi!” “who leaves his phone upstairs when he works out. I saw it was Chris calling, so I picked up and told him he could go.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Hen asks Eddie, eyebrows raised. She knows very well that no one other than Karen could ever give Denny permission to go anywhere and there’d be hell to pay for anyone who tried. Even if it were Chim.

However, Eddie doesn’t seem to share that apprehension, giving her a weird look as he says: “Of course. He’s Buck. He knows what Chris is and isn’t allowed.”

He’s Buck.

He’s Buck.

The phrasing of that sticks to Hen’s brain as she nods as if she gets it and in a way, she does. He’s Buck, he’s Eddie’s Buck. The Buck of BuckandEddie. They’ve always been close, Buck has always been close to Christopher too. The three are a unit. Hen almost feels silly for questioning it, then she starts questioning why that is.

With Hen questioning it, Chimney also starts questioning it. The two gossip like it’s their job and theorizing about it is half the fun. So, when they’re in the ambulance together, checking everything, she asks: “Do you think anything is up with Buck and Eddie?”

“Yes!” Chimney bursts out, relieved that she brought it up first so he can talk about it. “I mean, Chris is a good kid and I’ll babysit him if Eddie asks, but Buck… Buck seems…”

Chimney trails off and Hen finishes for him: “Overly involved?”

“So, it’s not just me,” Chimney sighs relieved. “I know I don’t have a kid, so I couldn’t tell if that is a normal thing to do, but you never asked me to any of that with Denny, but you had Karen and then that got me thinking.”

“Because Buck is kind of Eddie’s Karen,” Hen nods, summarizing what Chim said, because they’re on the same page as always.

“Exactly,” Chimney nods back.

“Think they’re secretly dating?” Hen asks.

“I don’t know. If it were anyone but them I would’ve said yes, but I don’t think Buck could keep that a secret to save his life.”

“No, but Eddie could and Buck would probably do anything for him.”

“True.”

They both fall silent for a second, thinking. Chimney is the one that breaks it, asking: “Do you think they’re in love?”

“Probably, but if they are, they don’t know it,” Hen responds. “Hell, I don’t think they even know they’re co-parenting Christopher.”

Chimney’s eyes light up and he says: “30 dollars Eddie knows.” Hen gives him a look and he says: “Oh come on, he’s Chris’s parent, he has parented with someone else before. There is no way he doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“I don’t know, he has a lot of people that help with Christopher, he might not realize,” Hen says. “Plus, it’s not as if Buck has shared custody of Christopher. All we’ve seen are weirdly close, but nothing too big. I say, neither of them realize.”

“Willing to put money on that, Henrietta?” Chim asks mischievously, quirking his brows.

“Don’t call me Henrietta and, yes, I’ll match your 30,” Hen says, before pushing him away.

Now that they have a bet going on, the right to interfere has been revoked, but their need to observe has grown tenfold. And boy, do they observe.

Not even three days later Buck comes into work, casually bumping his hip against Eddie’s, who is pouring him a coffee, as he says: “I got the supplies for Chris’s science fair project, so we can start after we get off shift.”

“Chris is really excited, hasn’t been able to shut up about it all week,” Eddie snorts. “I’m glad you’re willing to do it with him.”

“Course, I’ll never pass a chance to hang out with my little man, especially when he’s doing something fun,” Buck grins, eyes crinkling. Neither notice the possessive claim he stakes on Chris, both of them allowing it as normal.

Eddie laughs again: “I should’ve known, you’re just as excited as he is, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, volcanoes are cool,” Buck enthuses. “Did you know there are 10 tot 20 volcanic eruptions per day on earth. Most of them are under the sea. That’s pretty cool!”

“Yeah, Buck, that is pretty cool,” Eddie agrees fondly, before the conversation drifts to other topics, while Chimney and Hen share a look in the background.

Then later, they’re on a call. No one is seriously hurt, but people are trapped and Eddie drew the short stick, so he’s in the sewer wading through god knows what, while Buck mans the wench, calling out encouragements with a shit-eating grin, as Eddie grumbles and Chimney waits so he can check over the people that are brought up.

However, Buck is distracted by his phone ringing. He takes a quick glance at the screen, frowning when he sees, who it is, he quickly calls Chim to take over and swiftly picking up: “Hi, Evan Buckley speaking. Is Chris okay?”

This catches all their attention, not just because Buck never picks up with his full name, but also because he mentions Chris. How did he know the call was about him before he even picked up?

They watch as Buck listens to whatever is being said on the other side of the line, shoulders relaxing slightly as the person on the other side of the line talks. He nods along, then says: “Yeah, of course Chris can go. His permission slip is supposed to be in the yellow folder.”

A beat, then an amused huff as Buck’s voice raises a pitch: “Oh, really?” Then he continues normally: “Well, of course he’s allowed to go. Eddie probably forgot to pack it, I probably should’ve told Chris where I put it instead of him,” he laughs, then says his goodbyes.

Soon after Eddie returns with one of the victims, attaching her to the rope Chimney lowers, before turning to take off again.

However, before he can, Buck calls out: “Hey, Eddie, think you forgot something this morning?”

Eddie looks confused as he frowns up at Buck. “No, I didn’t forget anything,” he answers, full confidence. A beat passes and the a little less secure in that answer, he asks: “Did I?”

“Chris’s yellow folder,” Buck reminds him. “With the permission slip?”

Understanding dawns on Eddie’s face and he curses. “Fuck, that’s today, isn’t it. Shit, Chris is gonna be pissed.”

“Nah,” Buck assures him before he can spiral. “School just called, I told them he can go. He’ll probably bully you for it when you get home, though.”

“Better than getting the cold shoulder,” Eddie grins back. “I am not looking forward to those teen years, let me tell you.”

And with that, he takes off again, pretending he isn’t laughing when Buck yells after: “Can’t be more shitty than this.”

As Eddie disappears from view, Chimney fails at a conversational tone as he asks: “I take it that was Chris’s school?”

Buck doesn’t appear to notice as he answers: “Yeah, Eddie forgot to pack Chris’s permission slip for the field trip today, so they called to check it’s okay. Eddie clearly can’t answer right now, so they called me.”

“And that is normal?” Chimney calls.

“Well, yeah, it’s nice to have a backup in case a parent doesn’t pick up,” Buck says.

Chimney sends Hen a look for confirmation, who is just finishing checking over the woman Eddie rescued earlier. Hen points out: “I mean, yeah, they always call Karen first, because with my job I can’t always pick up, but you and Eddie are almost always busy at the same times. You work the same shifts.”

“Yeah, course, but seven times out of ten if Eddie doesn’t pick up it’s because he forgot his phone, like a dumbass, but if we’re truly busy they’ll call Carla,” Buck shrugs, switching back in with Chim so two paramedics are available for the next people.

“Oh, so Carla is number 3 on the list,” Hen repeats in a tone that signals to Chimney that that is interesting. Because it is. Carla has literally been hired to take care of Chris when Eddie can’t due to work. It’s her job. But she isn’t number 2, no that is Buck. It somehow does and doesn’t make any sense.

Oblivious to it all, Buck nods enthusiastically: “Yeah. Works out best this way. I hope Chris has fun, they’re going to the aquarium. I really wanted to chaperon, but I guess we’re gonna have to go to the aquarium together some other day. Maybe Chris learns some things that aren’t on the signs from a tour guide and he’ll tell me.”

He looks so excited about it that they don’t even have the heart to tease him about being a big kid himself. Hen sometimes thinks he is living a second, better childhood through caring for Christopher and trying to imagine why he’d need to do so makes her heart ache. So, she lets him be excited and focuses on checking the next patient Eddie brings her way.

When they have a call a few weeks later that involves a squid and Buck has a bunch of fish and cephalopod facts ready to go, everyone knows it’s because he took Chris to the aquarium. Eddie even informs them off it when Buck starts.

After that, they watch as Buck and Eddie coordinate pick ups when their schedules are thrown out of whack for a few weeks due to a big emergency, as well as them dividing getting supplies for projects and arguing how best to help Chris with his homework.

Hen and Chim keep trying to figure out if they know what they’re doing, but Buck just keeps calling Chris his best friend, nothing else, and Eddie is no help in the opening up department.

It’s all so domestic and they want to tear their hair out, because while the bet is about the parenting, neither can forget about how they thought they were maybe dating and definitely in love.

All their interactions are so fond, so familiar. They’re a family – part of the bigger 118 family of course, but a unit in their own right – and both deserve having that so much. However, it doesn’t seem like they know that and they want to push, to meddle, but Hen knows how scary it can be, especially if you aren’t out (and neither Buck nor Eddie ever mentioned being into men) and she doesn’t want that fear for them, knows you can’t rush that. So, they just have to watch it happen.

They have to watch as Buck picks up his phone with a big smile, grinning: “Hey, Superman. What’s this all about? Miss me already?”

Chris – because there is only one person Buck can be talking to after that greeting – must say something particular, because Buck’s eyebrows are creeping towards his hairline. In a voice that mixes surprise and amusement, he asks: “Oh, and are you going to tell me what you did, or are you just informing me of that?”

“And by some you mean all, don’t you?” Buck says fondly when Chris explains further.

“Of course,” he snorts at whatever Chris replied to that, before adding: “So, can I ask why you’re calling me to tell me about it?”

“Oh, I see how it is, Mister,” Buck laughs, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re trying to get yourself out of trouble, is that it?”

They can’t make out what Christopher says, but they can hear traces of his giggles coming out of the speaker.

It’s just Hen and Chimney who are there with Buck. Bobby is working on dinner and Eddie is catching up on some sleep downstairs, while they’re all hanging around on the couch. As they watch Buck talk with Chris, they keep sending each other looks, both trying to piece together what the conversation is about.

At Chris’s reply, Buck puffs up, even when the other can’t see him. Playing at magnanimous Buck answers: “Well, luckily for you, I am in a helping mood. So, if you promise to do all your homework before your dad gets home, I’ll try and work out a deal for you. How does that sound?”

Hen and Chimney can tell him how that sounds, it sounds parental. However, they can’t discern if Buck also knows it. Neither of them have bet on Buck knowing, but they can’t help but squint their eyes at him, wondering if he does know and isn’t as oblivious as he seems.

That wondering is exacerbated when Buck hangs up with a happy: “I’m glad you think so, Superman. Now be good and expect a call from dad, yeah?”

Once he has hung up, Chimney jumps on it first, asking: “So, what was that about?”

“Chris is trying to get out of trouble and has apparently learned the skill calling in a favor,” Buck explains.

“I hope you know you’re the one who taught him that with all your negotiating,” Eddie suddenly speaks up behind them, having only caught the tail end of the conversation. He looks sleep rumpled, but awake. Likely set an alarm for lunch.

Hen raises her eyebrows at Eddie’s comment, unable to help herself. Mentally, she grudgingly gives a point to Chimney, that does sound like Eddie knows.

She is now also truly lost about whether Buck realizes when he guffaws offendedly: “Excuse you, I don’t hear you complaining when he actually gets in bed on time during movie night.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s only because you’re the good cop,” Eddie complains.

“That’s the benefit of being Buck instead of being dad,” Buck grins and Eddie doesn’t protest the statement. Okay, so neither of them know. Probably. Right?

“I guess,” Eddie pouts, shrouding the situation in doubt again. “Just tell me why he was calling in a favor with you. Or is it a secret?”

“Nah, our little man decided to eat a bunch of ice cream while Carla was taking a call,” Buck says, neither of them noting the ‘our’ there, while Chimney and Hen definitely do.

“What?” Eddie exclaims with a frown. “Oh, he’s in trouble.”

“And he knows that,” Buck says. “Hence the call. I’m here to negotiate on Chris’s behalf. He has promised to do all his homework before you get home and he has acknowledged that what he did was against the rules and fessed up. So, he deserves some credit there.”

Eddie frowns more, crossing his arms now too. He doesn’t look pleased at all.

When he doesn’t say anything, Buck continues: “Come on, Eddie. I know it’s not healthy and Carla is probably regretting taking her eyes of him with that sugar high, but it’s normal for kids to do naughty things sometimes, to break the rules.”

“Sure, this was a harmless one, overall,” Eddie agrees. “But what if next time it’s a more dangerous thing he does. A rule that’s there to keep him safe, instead of just preventing a sugar rush and cavities? He needs to know it’s not okay, that the rules are there for a reason.”

Buck looks thoughtful at that, trying to come up with a reply. Hen is about to offer her advice as a parent – having gone unacknowledged thus far – when Buck does it first. “Then tell him that.”

“What?”

“Just tell him,” Buck shrugs. “Chris is a smart kid. You can explain that this rule is to keep him healthy, but other rules are there to keep him safe and it is important that he follows those rules, because they’re not there to be annoying, but to protect him. I’m sure he’ll get it. Then maybe no ice cream for a week or something as punishment, I don’t know.”

Eddie pauses for a second, then grins: “That’s actually good advice. When did you get so wise, man?”

Buck blushes and doesn’t meet their eyes, muttering: “It might have been what Bobby did to me after I was being a dumbass during my probie time,” causing everyone to laugh a little at his expense, which he takes graciously.

The conversation as a whole sticks with Chimney and Hen, who argue about it relentlessly, trying to figure out what it means and who is right. Chimney is perfectly ready to accept his winnings, but Hen refuses to give him the satisfaction of being right and has enough arguments to back herself up to not feel too petty about it.

Before they can settle it, they get their answers.

Eddie gets a call from school saying that Chris got in trouble and gets permission to go from Bobby so he can settle this. While he’s gone, Buck paces a little, wondering how Chris got in trouble, because he’s usually such a good student and he loves school and he knows all of the teachers like him. Well, all of them except Mrs. Smith, who sucks.

Soon Eddie returns to the station alongside Chris, because they have to wait until Carla can come pick him up. Eddie looks a little dazed, but Chris looks angry, a little storm cloud above his head.

Buck has been waiting anxiously for them the entire time, so he’s there in no time. “Hey, Superman, what got you all upset?”

Chris’s face is puffed up in indignant upset and anger, it’s kind of cute, but no one is going to tell him that when he exclaims: “Mrs. Smith told me off for lying even though I totally wasn’t and for calling Mike an asshole even though he totally was. And dad didn’t back me up for any of it.”

That gives all of them a pause. Eddie might not back Chris calling anyone an asshole, no matter how deserved, but he would always back Chris if he is falsely accused of lying.

They look over to Eddie, who is standing there, looking a bit helpless and out of his depth, as if he has no clue what he is supposed to do now. When he meets Buck’s questioning gaze, he flushes and looks away, making Buck frown. Hen and Chimney decide to stay in the background, see how this plays out and if they can finally settle that bet.

Buck seems uncertain, especially with Eddie avoids his gaze, so he is cautious when he asks: “And what makes you say that? Your dad wouldn’t just leave you hanging, you know that, Chris.”

“I know, but we had to give a presentation about our families and I told them I have two dads and Mrs. Smith told me off in front of everyone and then Mike call you a bad word, so I called him an asshole and then she send me to the principle’s office and it’s not fair,” Chris says loudly.

All the adults there become very still at those words. After so long the unspoken has become spoken.

Chris is oblivious to it, continuing his rant: “And then dad came in and he backed them. They told him to explain to me to avoid confusion, like I’m stupid. I’m not stupid! I know you and dad don’t do the gross stuff like kissing or holding hands, but you’re still my dad. You cook for us, you help me with the homework and you went to parent-teacher night. I wasn’t lying and Mike had no right to call you that word. He should be suspended for a day too.”

Buck looks as if he’s been slapped, yet as if it’s the best day in his life at the same time. He is clearly at a loss for words and equally overwhelmed as Eddie. He just gapes at Chris, before his eyes flick between Eddie and Chris, searching for something that Eddie doesn’t appear capable of giving him right now.

When both stay silent, Chris draws back slightly from where he’d been orbiting in Buck’s space, voice hurt as he asks: “I mean, you’re also my dad, right, Buck?”

Jolted into action by Chris’s tone, Buck goes down on a knee to be at his level, pulling him into a hug as he says: “I’ll always be your Buck. I’m here for you and I won’t go.” Then he pulls away slightly, cupping Chris’s cheek in a manner similar to how Eddie does. “But you already have a dad, I don’t want to push into that space, yeah. It’s not up to me.”

“But Denny has two moms and Harry has three dads, why do they get to have more parents and I don’t?” Chris cries, his upset growing more.

Eddie is also moving, crouching down on Chris’s other side and carding a hand through his hair and pulling him close: “Oh, mijo, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to pick their side.” He looks over Chris’s head at Buck, eyes wide as if to try and silently communicate about what to do.

Buck returns his gaze with equally wide eyes, before swallowing thickly. He nods at Chris, then looks down at himself, before giving Eddie an apologetic grimace.

Eddie glares at him, frowning as he shakes his head, before nodding sharply at Buck, then at Chris.

Now Buck’s eyes grow wide again, this time in joyous disbelief, which turns into an ‘are you sure?’-expression.

At that Eddie gives him a flat look. However, before the silent conversation can continue, Chris sadly says: “But you did pick their side.”

Immediately Eddie’s attention is on his son entirely, taking over from Buck, so he can cup his face and have Chris look in his eyes, so he knows he means it: “And I’m very sorry for that, Chris. You were right to stand up for your friend and you do have a dad in Buck.” He sends over an insecure look to Buck at the last part, voice a little softer, as if he hopes Buck won’t hear him.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to worry, because at the confirmation Buck’s face lights up in the brightest smile they’ve seen from him yet.

Chris also smiles at that, before he frowns: “Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Smith or the Principal that? Now they think they’re right.”

The others might not know this, but Buck is the one that talks to Chris, so when Eddie flounders again, he starts up easily. “Well, Superman, your dad was probably a little confused, because often having two parents, means those two parents do all the gross stuff like kissing and holding hands and that’s what Mrs. Smith and the Principal thought you meant, so your dad agreed with them that that isn’t true.”

Right now Chris is standing between the two, looking at Buck while Buck looks at him. Neither notice Eddie, who is looking at both with an incredibly fond yet heartbroken look on his face.

If Hen dared to do more than breathe in that moment, she would’ve bet a lot of money that he only now realized what he could have, right as Buck is apparently ripping it up in front of his face. By the lord, both of them are a little stupid.

Buck continues on: “It was just a misunderstanding between everyone, because usually when a kid has an extra parent they’re not related to, it’s because that person is dating a parent the kid is related to. Now I’m bi so I like more genders, so also men, but you dad doesn’t, so-”

“Who said I don’t,” Eddie interrupts, looking as if he did not intent to blurt that out.

“You do?” Buck asks, surprised, gaze turning to Eddie.

Eddie is flushed bright red and he looks away, muttering: “Uhm, yeah, I’m- I’m gay.” By the way he says it, nervous and voice small, Hen guesses he hasn’t come out often. Not surprising, since he is ex-military.

Buck seems dumbstruck by the revelation and Hen can quickly see this go south. So, she steps in, giving Eddie a quick side hug, pulling him into her stomach, since he’s still on the ground. She says: “I’m so proud of you, Eddie.”

Then she holds out a hand for Chris to take as she says: “I think your dads need to figure this all out for a moment, get on the same page. Why don’t we go and ask Cap if he can make you some more of those grilled cheese sandwiches you liked so much last time.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees, easily swayed by the promise of grilled cheese sandwiches and a nod from one of his dads.

As she leads him away, she sends Chim a look that clearly says ‘you better stay here and report back on all developments’. Going off the look he returns, the message gets across.

Bobby can indeed be convinced to make Chris some grilled cheese sandwiches, though he demands that Hen softly fills him in on what’s happening. He claims to be above gossip, but Hen knows better, she sees right through him.

When Chris is happily munching on his grilled cheese, Chimney comes up the stairs. There is no Buck or Eddie behind him and both Bobby and Hen give him a questioning look, but it is Chris, who asks: “Where are dad and Buck?”

“They’re, uhm,” Chimney clears his throat, “continuing their conversation for a bit more. Enthusiastically.” He ruffles Chris’s hair and says: “I think your dads are gonna do gross stuff like kissing and holding hands from now on, kiddo.”

“Iew,” Chris complains, before he perks up and asks: “Does that mean Buck will have more sleep overs now?” which makes everyone laugh.

Hen smiles: ‘It probably does, Chris, it probably does,” before holding out her hand to Chimney, who begrudgingly hands her her 30 dollars.

~~

A/N:

The full Chris-Buck convo:

“Hey, Superman. What’s this all about? Miss me already?”

“I did something naughty.”

“Oh, and are you going to tell me what you did or are you just informing me of that?”

“I ate some of the ice cream while Carla was taking a call.”

“And by some you mean all of it, don’t you.”

“Maybe.”

“Of course. So, can I ask why you’re calling me to tell me about it?”

“Because if you tell dad, then he won’t just find out and then he’ll have time to know about it, before he comes home and then I’ll be in less trouble.”

“Oh, I see how it is, Mister. You’re trying to get yourself out of trouble, is that it.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, luckily for you, I am in a helping mood. So, if you promise to do all your homework before your dad gets home, I’ll try and work out a deal for you. How does that sound?”

“Good! You’re the best, Buck.”

“I’m glad you think so, Superman. Now be good and expect a call from dad, yeah?”

[stark-ironman]

Firefighter AU: Intro

18+ NO MINORS

Warnings: drinking, unprotected sex (wrap up), alcohol consumption, daddy kink, light slapping, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, oral (f recieving) friends with benefits

A/N: Hello everyone! While writing part 3, I decided to write how Tony and the reader became friends with benefits but they're more so on the lines of lovers. I hope you enjoy and please if you have ideas for this series, send them!!!

Masterlist

"We finished cleaning and sanitizing everything, Cap." Natasha says as she leans against the doorway. "Alright, thank you. You and Rhodey can go home. It's getting late." You tell them as she nods and walks off. A deep breath falls from your lips as you lean back in your chair, rubbing your eyes.

*Knock, knock*

"Need a ride home?" Tony asks from the doorway. "I was fixing to call an Uber, actually." You say pulling your phone out but Tony snatches it out of your hands. "Hey-" "No. You're not going to call an Uber. Not with how many crazy people are out there and especially with how late it is. Come on, I'll stop for a burger and shakes." He lightly sings that last part. "How do I know you're not a crazy person?" You ask standing up. Tony smirks, "You don't."

------

"Now see, wasn't that so much better than the Uber ride?" Tony asks when he parks his truck in your driveway. "Yes Tony, you was right." You chuckle and roll your eyes as you grab your stuff. "Want to come in for a drink? It's been a while since we've caught up on life." You ask. "Do you have whiskey?" He questions. "You know better than to ask a question like that." You joke as you get out the truck.

Tony walks close to you and shuts the door when he walks in, heading straight for the kitchen. "Alright. Got the whiskey and the glasses." He says walking back in and setting them down on the coffee table and sitting beside you. You pour the whiskey in both glasses, handing one to him and sitting back on the couch. "Luckily we're both off in the morning so we can nurse our hangovers." Tony says as you both down your drinks and pours another one.

"You act like we're going to be okay for night shift." You chuckle as you both fall into a small conversation.

------

After a couple hours and drinking a whole bottle of whiskey, you're laying down on the couch with your legs over Tony's lap as the movie you're watching goes off. "I think I'm fixing to try to go to bed. Care to join?" You ask. "I figured I was going to sleep here on the couch tonight." Tony slurs a little, looking over to you. "This couch is no where near comfortable to sleep on. Come on, I don't bite. Unless you want me to." You wink, feeling brave because of the whiskey.

"What if I want you to?" Tony asks as he bites his lip. "Depends. I only bite when I'm feeling really good." You sit up and watch a blush slowly creep on his face. "I can make you feel really good." He chuckles as he leans in closer to you. "Then what's stopping you?" You lick your lips. "I don't think you could handle me, hon. I get pretty rough in the bed." He whispers. "Sounds like my kind of man then." You whisper back as his lips touch yours.

Tony stands up and picks you up, wrapping your legs against his waist and he stumbles over the the wall, pressing you against it and kisses you deeply. You run your fingers through his hair, hearing him moan softly while he takes your shirt and bra off. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." He moans kissing you again as he walks down the hall.

You gently get down from his waist and grab his shirt, pulling it off quickly as you latch your mouth onto his chest, leaving little love bites up his chest and neck before kissing him again. Tony pushes you back on the bed and you moan as you feel his hard bulge pressing against your clothed heat. He grinds slowly against you, attacking your mouth with his tongue then moving down your body.

His hands wrap around your breasts as he takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking softly on it before biting down on it and making you yelp. "Do I need to stop?" He asks looking up at you as he moves to the other one. "No! Feels good." You moan as your hands find his hair again while he repeats the same thing on the other side. "Don't be afraid to stop me, darling." He says moving further down and sliding your clothes off.

"Fuck. Look so beautiful for me, baby. Such a perfect little pussy for me." Tony moans as he lays on his stomach and slowly kisses up your thighs. You whine as he takes his time and he chuckles. "What's wrong baby? Tell me why you're whining." He smirks and you feel his breath over your hot, wet heat. "Need you... quit teasing." You whimper. "How bad do you need me, hon?" He asks as he touches the tip of his tongue on your clit.

"Mm- real bad daddy." You moan and hear his breath hitch. "Call me that again, you dirty little slut." Tony commands as one of his hands travels up and slaps one of your breasts, gently. "Need you, daddy." You moan again as he closes his mouth around your heat, his tongue attacking your clit as his other arm holds you down.

He brings the hand that just smacked your breast back down towards him, sliding a finger in when he sucks on your clit. "Shit, Tone." You pull his hair, throwing your head back. "Not my name, baby." He mumbles before resuming. "Sorry, daddy." You say as he adds another finger.

Your back arches as you gasp, feeling that familiar feeling creeping up on you. "I'm fixing to cum.." You moan, pulling his hair. He hums against you as he slides a third finger in, making you twitch and pant under his arm as your orgasm quickly washes over you. "Open your eyes, baby." Tony commands and you look down to see him focusing on you. He sits up but keeps his fingers inside of you, kissing you deeply as you finish riding out your high.

"Such a good girl for me. You take my fingers so good." He praises as he pulls them out, bringing them up to your lips and you suck your arousal off his fingers, making him moan. Tony pulls his pants and briefs off, kissing you again as you reach down to grab his dick, giving him a few pumps.

You gasp at how big he is and he smiles. "I'll go slow to begin with." He reassures. He grabs his base and plays with your opening with his head.

"Shit. I don't have a condom, honey." He curses. "It's okay. I'm on birth control and I haven't been with anybody in months." You say. He nods saying, "I haven't been with anybody either and I don't think after this I want to be." Tony slides in slowly, throwing his head back in pleasure when he feels how you squeeze him. "Shit, baby. Taking me so good already." He moans when he bottoms out.

"Fuck.. it's big, daddy. Stretching me so good." You moan, arching your back. A smirk appears on his face as he starts moving, slowly. "Come on, Tone. Quit teasing." You whine again. "Tell daddy what you want, baby." A soft command but you know he's doing it so you're a screaming, crying mess. "I want you to fuck me, daddy. You said earlier you was rough in bed but I'm starting to think it was all talk." You spit out, looking in his eyes as you push his buttons.

His eyes go dark and he smirks, grabbing behind your legs and pushes them down to your shoulders. "You want rough, fine. I tried being nice." He snarls as he starts pounding into at a brutal pace. Moans fall from your lips as you try to grab his shoulders for leverage, dragging your nails down his arms when you can't hold on. "Just a fucking dirty whore for me, aren't you?" Tony grunts. You moan and don't answer, resulting in a sharp smack against your thigh. "I asked you a question or am I fucking you dumb?" He growls and wraps a hand around your throat. "I'm a whore for you, daddy. Only you." You choke out as he squeezes down.

The sound of both of your moans fills the air and you look up at him, watching the sweat drip down his neck and chest, his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans and you can't help but feel a swelling in your chest seeing him like this.

You're fucked. You know you are. You're both drunk and this is a one time thing. He can't know that you've just fallen in love with him after seeing the pleasure on his face, all because of you. No one's ever praised you the way he has. They've never worshiped your body or made you feel as good as he's making you right now.

Tony looks down at you, smiling at how fucked out you look and he pulls out, putting you on all fours. You grip the headboard as he snaps his hips against you, moaning loudly as he grips your hips tightly, pounding into you at a brutal but pleasurable pace.

"Fuck, Tony. I'm fixing to cum." You moan, cursing to yourself when you realize you called him by name. "It's okay, hon. Cum all over my dick." He says as he angles his hips better, making sure he's hitting your sweet spot.

You yelp, feeling a rush again and you swear you can feel gushing in between your legs but you pay it no mind as you grip the headboard tighter. "Fuck, there you go baby. Squirt all over my fucking dick. Show daddy how much he pleasures his little whore." Tony moans as his movements start to stutter and he pulls out, releasing all over your back.

You collapse on the bed, drifting in and out and can hear Tony saying something but you can't understand him. He walks out of the bedroom but comes back shortly after, picking you up and takes you to the bathroom, sitting you in the tub. You grab his hand, pulling him down and he crawls in behind you, letting you lean against him.

"Here, drink some water." He says holding a bottle up to your mouth. You drink some and notice he's set some fruit out on a table beside the tub. "Thank you, Tones." You mumble, leaning back into him. "No problem, hon." He wraps his arms around you.

"What happens now, Tony? We don't have time for a relationship but I don't want to lose you." You ask. "You will never lose me and until we can straighten out our lives, we could be friends with benefits if you want." He says. "Good because you're the only person I want to fuck." You chuckle. He laughs and says, "Yeah, you're the only one I want too."

"So friends with benefits. Deal?" You ask. "Deal." He agrees.

[jbuffyangel]

No Choice to Make: Arrow 2x07 Review (State v. Queen)

Is there anything better than Oliver saving Felicity? The correct answer is no.  Of course, my feminist side is screaming Felicity can take care of herself (and does in most circumstances), but my inner Gloria Steinem needs to zip it.  I want romance novel heroism and “State v. Queen” delivers on a swoon worthy level.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity

This is easily my favorite Oliver protecting Felicity moment because there are so many nuances in their two primary scenes. However, to understand those nuances we have to review a little background information.

The Count escaped from Iron Heights during the earthquake (and released the Dollmaker while he was at it). I love this explanation for returning villains because it makes total sense. Logic in Arrow is rare jewel – treasure the moment.

Moira's trial is under way, but Diggle is not feeling well. Oliver sends John home, but he collapses in the bunker.

Oliver: I heard you passed out.

Diggle: I told Felicity not to call you.

Felicity: Yeah, but before that you said ‘gaw’ and ‘thud’ so I didn’t take it very seriously.

Felicity has John's blood tested and there are trace amounts of Vertigo in his system. They try Oliver’s antidote, but it doesn’t work. Adam Donner, the lawyer prosecuting Moira, also collapses in court due to Vertigo poisoning. The Count kidnaps him and forces him to take the drug to alleviate the withdrawal symptoms. It’s broadcasted live, so everyone affected knows the only cure is Vertigo.

I feel I would make a pretty good drug lord after watching Breaking Bad, Power and Queen of the South. The key to success is return customers, so this is not a half bad plan. You have to admire the Count’s industriousness. Ghost and Walter White would definitely approve.

Oliver hoods up after Felicity tracks Adam Donner’s location through the city seal of the Starling Municipal Records Department, which is reflected in Donner’s eye. Ok, so science is not sciencing in this episode. Felicity is immediately concerned about Oliver.

Felicity: I know what you're thinking.

Oliver: No you don't. I made a choice not put an arrow in this guy and it was the right choice. There’s no more killing.

Felicity was concerned Oliver would regret allowing The Count to live, but it’s just the opposite. He’s doubling down on his vow to Tommy. Oliver is not a conflicted man. He knows he made the right call. That's called growth, my friends.

Felicity’s little assertive nod means she backs Oliver’s decision one hundred percent. In fact, I’m sure she had a whole speech prepared for why not killing The Count was the right thing to do. It’s not just Oliver who believes there is a better way – Felicity and Diggle believe it too. This is as much their mission as it is Oliver’s. They also made a vow to Tommy to do better.

Unfortunately, The Count has caught wind that The Arrow’s aim is not lethal these days. The Count holds his arms wide open – an easy shot – and taunts Oliver to kill him, while Donner is held hostage by a henchman. It’s always a bit of a pickle to determine how Oliver is going to get himself out of these situations without killing. I’m all in favor of the vow he made, but killing does have some practical applications.

Of course, Oliver always finds another way. He fires on some flammable canisters, which creates a fire in a drug factory – clearly against OSHA regulations. Oliver spins and throws a flechette into the henchman’s arm, so he drops Donner and they make their escape.

THIS SCENE IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. REMEMBER WHAT OLIVER DID.

Felicity and Diggle determine the common denominator between all those poisoned with Vertigo is a flu vaccine, but they need to be sure. Oliver is busy with his mother’s trial at the courthouse and Diggle can barely walk. Felicity decides recon is on her tonight and seeks out the vaccine distribution van.  Low and behold, there is an entire shelf of Vertigo in the van, but The Count catches Felicity as she snoops.

Oliver and Thea are waiting for their mother’s verdict, which could be coming at any moment, when he receives a call from Felicity. But it’s not Felicity. It’s The Count.

The Count: Oliver? Is it okay if I call you Oliver? Surprised to hear from me, right? Not as surprised as I was. You see, I find this… not unattractive blonde getting all up in my business. And what does she have on her?

Source:  laurelscanary 

Oliver can hear Felicity crying on the other line and closes his eyes in absolute horror when he realizes she’s being held hostage.

The Count: A Queen Consolidated ID badge. Now, I think to myself, why does that name ring a bell? Oliver Queen. He tried to buy off me last year just before the hood put me in a padded cell. Ipso facto, ARROW.

Source:  laurelscanary 

Oliver doesn’t bother to contain his rage and without a second thought leaves the courthouse. Thea calls after him, reminding him that the jury will have a verdict anytime. All Oliver can tell her is that something came up at the office, but he cannot hide shakiness in his voice.  Oliver is afraid.

Oliver arrives at Queen Consolidated, suit on but hood down. For practical purposes, he doesn’t need to conceal his identity from The Count because he already figured it out – something so many other characters have failed to do with much more information than he had.

But from a symbolical perspective, the hood down is crucially important. Oliver is not here as The Arrow. He is here as Oliver Queen. This is personal to him. So much of this series is about Oliver struggling to reconcile his two halves – the hood and the man, but Felicity is one of the few people who truly knows both sides. He doesn’t have to hide with her.

Oliver approaches very slowly. He recognizes The Count has the upper hand and he cannot afford any mistakes. Felicity is zip tied to a chair and The Count holds a gun on her while he strokes her ponytail. That action alone sends the creep factor sky high.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

There is a sexual element to Felicity’s kidnapping. The Count referenced her attractiveness on the phone with Oliver. Now he’s stroking her ponytail. Oliver asks The Count what he wants and he responds, “World peace and personal satisfaction. Though not necessarily in that order.” He massages Felicity’s shoulders at “personal satisfaction” in the grossest way possible.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

It’s a thinly veiled threat of sexual assault, which does not go unnoticed by Oliver.  There are few things worse than rape and it serves to amplify Felicity’s terror and Oliver’s powerlessness and rage. If the writers intended to keep Oliver and Felicity strictly platonic they would not introduce this terribly disturbing aspect into the scene.

The Count monologues for a bit longer and tells Oliver someone else hates him almost as much. This mysterious benefactor funded the Vertigo operation, so The Count could draw The Arrow out and kill him. (Spoiler alert: it was Blood).

The Count gets the drop on Oliver and fires off a couple rounds. It forces Oliver to run and dive behind a couch. It always surprised me The Count was able to get the upper hand in this moment, which points to Oliver’s fear for Felicity more than anything. He’s not thinking strategically when it’s her life in danger. He can’t.

The Count cuts the zip ties and grabs Felicity by the ponytail. He drags her to the spot where Oliver was hiding, ready to finish him off, but this time Oliver gets the drop on him. He points an arrow squarely at The Count’s chest, but he is using Felicity as a shield. The Count holds two syringes of Vertigo (a lethal dose) to Felicity’s neck. It’s important to remember Oliver’s antidote for Vertigo did not work on Diggle.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

Don’t ever say to me Felicity Smoak is not a hero. She was willing to die to keep Oliver’s vow to Tommy. Felicity was ready to trade her life for Oliver’s soul. She believes in Oliver, and their mission, that much. What's madness is thinking Oliver would put the vow before her life.

The Count orders Oliver to lower his bow, which he does and tosses the arrow to the floor. Then we see him do something Oliver never does – he tries to negotiate.

Again, Oliver doesn’t bother to hide the fear in his voice which makes the negotiating sound a lot like begging.

The Count: Consider this your penalty for making me go to plan B in the first place.

The Count raises the syringes to Felicity’s neck and Oliver manages to pull not one, but three arrows in rapid succession - killing The Count. 

The look on Oliver’s face when he fires the arrows, tell me two things.  First, this kill is emotional. When Oliver shoots to kill he typically only needs one arrow. The Arrow never misses. Three arrows is excessive.  It is literally overkill which means one thing – pure rage.  

Second, the act is instinctual.  The rapid succession in which he fires the arrows shows there is something programmed deep in Oliver’s bones to protect Felicity. Her life was threatened and his body simply reacted.

Felicity drops to the floor and The Count crashes through the window. Oliver closes his eyes and exhales like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. I think it is part relief and part regret. He doesn’t regret killing that bastard, but regrets he couldn’t find another way this time.   

Or was there? Upon this rewatch I noticed a couple things. First, Laurel was held hostage by the Dollmaker and Oliver did not kill him. (Sara did the honors that time). But consider the scene with Donner. Oliver threw a flechette into the henchman’s hand to free Donner. The henchman let go of Donner as a reflex to the pain. Could Oliver attempt the same with Felicity? Would a flechette in The Count’s arm free her as well?

The point is we’ll never know. Oliver made a calculated risk at the municipal when he fired on the flammable liquid and injured, but didn’t kill, The Count’s henchman. Oliver was willing to take the risk when Donner and Laurel were involved, but not Felicity.

I’ve been watching a lot of Bridgerton, so the next scene screams romance novel to me.

Source: AARONSWARNER

Oliver makes his way to Felicity who remains crouched on the floor and crying.  He gets down on one knee and tenderly touches her shoulder.

Source: AARONSWARNER

Felicity immediately flinches in fear at his touch, so Oliver in a voice so soft it’s almost a whisper, gently reassures her. She finally looks up and sees Oliver staring back at her with concern and love. She exhales with relief.

Source: AARONSWARNER

The shock wears off quickly once she hears Oliver’s voice and feels his hand on her shoulder. Oliver’s first thought is for Felicity, but her first thought is for him. SHIP COUPLES WHO WORRY ABOUT EACH OTHER FOR CLEAR SKIN.

Source: AARONSWARNER

Oliver moves his uninjured arm from Felicity’s shoulder and cups her face. The man has an actual bullet in his shoulder, but can feel no pain because Felicity Smoak is alive and safe. She is all that matters to him.

Source: AARONSWARNER

These physical moments are no small thing. Oliver keeps an extremely rigged line with Felicity that he rarely crosses. Shoulder touches are the maximum physical contact he allows and even those are on rare occasion. But she almost died tonight, so Oliver allows himself to take it one step further and touches Felicity’s face.  Oliver’s whispered reassurances in his reserved-for-Felicity-only voice unveil the real intimacy between them. He comforts her. Not in the way Oliver would like, but in the way he can allow. The line is still there, but it’s blurred at the moment.

There is no moment which better encapsulates the two sides of Oliver Queen than this scene. One moment he is a rage filled killer and the next he is a soft spoken, loving and tender man. It is not an accident the two sides merge into one for her. Darkness and light working in perfect cohesion to be the hero Felicity Smoak needed.

Source: @laurelscanary

Oliver makes his way back to the courthouse. He is so visibly shaken that Thea asks Oliver if he’s okay. She touches his injured shoulder and Oliver flinches, but it’s not the bullet that’s bothering him. He came too close to losing Felicity. Way too close.

Source: @laurelscanary

Sadly, this somewhat reinforces what Oliver said to Felicity in 2x06. There is a direct correlation between proximity to Oliver and danger, so he thinks it’s better to remain emotionally unattached. In his mind, keeping Felicity at arm’s length means keeping her safe.

But there’s what Oliver says and what he feels. He can refuse to acknowledge or act upon his feelings for Felicity, but that does not eradicate them. If Oliver is truly worried about proximity then why does he allow Felicity to be part of the team? Two reasons, Oliver needs Felicity and firmly believes they can protect her. But this was a frightening close call and Oliver’s fear is stemming from a more than friendly place. Felicity Smoak has become too important to him and it is scaring the crap out of him.

Source: FERRISBUELLER

Oliver returns to the bunker after his mother’s verdict to check on Diggle and Felicity. The way he looks Felicity up and down y’all is… a lot. Queen Consolidated is formulating a non addictive antidote for the people with Vertigo poisoning. Moira is not guilty. All’s well that ends well, so Oliver tells Diggle and Felicity to go home and rest.

But Felicity needs to get something off her chest.

Felicity: Oliver, I uh…

The way this man spins at the sound of her voice like he's a golden retriever who saw a squirrel. He is so gone for this woman.

Felicity: I just wanted to say thank you.

Oliver: (nods) Yeah.

Source: laurelscanary

He truly cannot fathom what she is apologizing for and steps much closer than necessary.

Source: laurelscanary

It seems Felicity has inherited a little bit of Oliver’s guilt complex. YOU WERE KIDNAPPED MY PRECIOUS CUPCAKE!!!

Source: laurelscanary

HE. TAKES. HER. HAND. We had a shoulder touch, tender face caressing and now holding hands. At this point, this equivalent to first base for these two. MY BRAIN SHORT CIRCUITED.

Source: laurelscanary

Earlier in the episode, Oliver and Felicity discussed not killing The Count previously and how it was the right decision. Oliver’s certainty in the rightness of the decision solidifies his commitment to his vow to Tommy. It is not something Oliver is questioning or wavering on. 

But Oliver is not qualifying what happened to Felicity in those terms. This is not about right or wrong. In fact, it wasn’t a decision at all. Oliver was not calculating the risks. Oliver was not thinking about a vow, or honoring his best friend, or the mission. His only thought was Felicity and her safety. Oliver simply reacted. All he could see was Felicity. All he could feel was the unbridled rage that came from anyone threatening her life.  It is programmed deep into Oliver’s bones to protect Felicity. There is no rational thought when it comes to her.

Nor does he care if it was right or wrong now. Oliver is not Monday morning quarterbacking the situation. Someone raised a hand to her, so that person is dead. End of discussion.

There is a war happening between Oliver’s mind and his heart. Oliver was clearly thinking with his head when he told Felicity in 2x06 that he will not allow himself to love her. But this episode was a completely different story. Sometimes life and death circumstances bring a much needed moment of clarity. Oliver may believe he has a choice whether or not he loves Felicity, but his actions show his heart knows different. There is no choice to make.

Moira Queen

The trial is not going well, so Moira is forced to testify. Laurel is lead prosecutor now that Donner is infected with Vertigo.  "Conflict of Interest" is flashing in a neon sign. On any planet in the solar system, Laurel would recuse herself. THE INSANITY GIVES ME A MIGRAINE.

Laurel also decides she’d like to get disbarred and visits Moira in prison because they are “family." Yack. Give me a break. She doesn’t want Moira to take the stand because Laurel will have to prosecute her to the best of her ability and use their smoking gun. Sure, because now she cares about legal procedure.

So, Moira comes clean to Oliver and Thea and tells them she had a one night stand with Malcolm Merlyn while married to their father.  The kids are shocked to say the least. Oliver has a solid case of the yicks. Thea is more than a little angry since she accused her mother of having an affair with Merlyn last year. Moira assures Thea it was not an affair, so technically she didn’t lie. Moira should teach Professional Gaslighting 101.

Inexplicably, Moira is found not guilty. (In my notes: Hahaha suck it Laurel)

Even Oliver is wondering what the fuck just happened. Upon release from prison, Moira is driven to a secret location to meet up with none other than MALCOLM MERLYN. His explanation for being alive is basically, “I’m a super awesome actor and faked it.” Oliver – did you check his pulse? What happened to the body? Did we miss a step Team Arrow? CLEARLY WE DID.

Merlyn bought the jury and Moira’s freedom (Ummm thanks I guess?) so he can deliver the second bomb. He ran a DNA test and knows he’s Thea’s father. PLOT TWIST! Honestly, this makes a lot of sense. I wasn't that surprised. Thea looks more like Tommy than she does Oliver.

Wait, this means Thea kissed her brother. Are we just going to Star Wars this and never talk about it again? Works for me.

Stray Thoughts

Oh shut up Laurel. Quit your bitching - me every time she opens her mouth lately.

Ivo is looking for the hosen because it contains coordinates to a sub that sunk in WWII. Whatever is on the sub can save the world. Shado and Oliver hope it can save Slade, so Team Island is going on a submarine field trip!

Slade has burns on half his body and yet he can still move. The man is not human.

"I have this thing about needles, all pointy things, which is ironic given who we work for.” I just love her so much.

David Ramsey is so enormous he doesn’t fit on the table. The mind cannot conceive of all that muscle.

 “Mom secrets are what put you into this situation. Secrets and lies. And now is the time to give truth its day.” Oh the irony, Oliver.

Donner took drugs on live television. Re-election is going to be a real bitch for the DA.

I like the Thea’s boxing moment with Roy. Nice foreshadowing. Girl is going to have a lot of rage to work through.

Laurel did make a good point about Walter and Merlyn. See? I can be positive about her.

OLIVER. STOP. ASKING. LAUREL. IF. SHE. IS. OK. Her whole “how can you possibly forgive me” speech was also nauseating and not believable. I like her better drunk.

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested in Buddhism.” Slade is burned over half his body but he jokes.

30-30-175-12 I’m sure that has something to do with the comics but I don’t care.

Some guy named Cyrus survived Blood’s Frankenstein experiment. So that’s not good.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 2x07!!!

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Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me!

[tinyfishtits]

Would love to know your opinion on what you think Micah’s deal with Abigail was. I know he hits on pretty much all the women at camp but to me he always seemed more serious/persistent with her??!

Ooooo okay okay. Well my immediate thought was that - because she has a history as a working girl and canonically slept with most of the men in the gang when she joined - Micah would have instantly felt like he was owed her affection in a way.

And I mean he’s always looking for ways to one up and piss off arthur and John and getting Abigail would be the biggest prize for him on both those accounts, god, imagine how furious they’d be. I mean just flirting with her pisses them off, i bet he loves it. He'd be all over Mary Linton if she ended up in the gang with Arthur too mark my words!

But mostly i think its because Abigail is fucking badass and beautiful and he sees that. Holds her in a higher regard than the other girls in camp who he sees as weak, drunk, old, sensitive, not worth the effort. 

And if ya want me to get really deep into it I think she might remind him of his mother who I personally believe had to be some kind of badass outlaw and a working woman as well to have fallen in with his, as he puts it, Pair of wild horses Father and grandfather. She probably gave him high standards for what a ‘real’ woman is and he sees that in Abigail. 

I also think that seeing her raise Jack in the gang cracked something open in him, made him feel like maybe there is a way to walk the line, be a murdering, asshole outlaw and have a woman who loves you enough and can hold her own enough to be a part of that life with him. A working woman choosing him out of everyone else is his wet dream and John of all people is living his dream?? Unacceptable.

Though I don’t think he genuinely wants her that way, just the possibility she represents. he has too big an ego and pride for the time to raise another man’s son. I mean he’s no better than John and look what even the possibility of that did to him.

Plus he just seems like the kind of guy that gets off on seeing a woman be all mothery and maternal and he secretly wants her to stroke his hair and call him sweet names. Say it with me gang ((breeding kink)) 🤭

ANYWAY… i guess these are my opinions lol. Gosh you guys are opening the floodgates I'm never going to be able to shut up now.

Thanks for the ask anon ❣️

[risingsouls]

She drove her knee into his groin before walking out of the gravity chamber. "This is the reason whs I learned martial arts: to protect myself from idiots like you who think they have power over the female species!"

Sensing the woman's unwanted intrusion and impending attack, he dodged the knee handily. " What are you talking about? I don't care what you did or why you did it. Do you want a fucking cookie or something? Go bother someone who cares. "

[skitskatdacat63]

I've decided to do myself what the cowards at Aston won't. Behold.

[sunrizef1]

Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[risuola]

YOU CRYIN'? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

You and Gojo know each other since high school, and since then, you also hate each other. He bites and you always bite back, the constant argument creates tension that everybody, except you two, seem to notice. One time you said too much, causing Gojo’s self-control to snap.

cw: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of bullying (Satoru is a meanie, ok?), overstimulation, enemies to lovers kind of vibe, I feel like the "you cryin'?" line in itself is a warning if you heard the dub version of it, reader discretion is advised — 1,4k words

» PART TWO

"You cryin'?", Satoru taunted, thrusting his hips relentlessly into yours, with a handful of your hair in his unforgiving grip. Standing behind you, with one hand digging into the supple flesh of your side to steady himself, he was pounding behavior into you.

You and Satoru Gojo have a history of never-ending venom-spitting and it's safe to say you hated the man and the man hated you with passion for years now. It started in high school, where you just couldn't stand how full of himself he was, looking at everybody from above as if he was so much better than everyone and yes, you are aware of how powerful of an individual he is but the arrogance that came with it was just unbearable. Much more you liked his closest friend Suguru, but as years passed, you found yourself working closely with Gojo more and more often, because you decided to stay at Jujutsu high in Tokyo to help students learn. You were strong enough to be considered a high 1st grade sorcerer and everything you achieved, you earned by hard work and stubbornness but that didn’t stop the know-it-all from bullying you, no. He had an awful habit of pouring more fuel into the constant fire of argument between you two and you never owed him, always biting back. That being said, your constant bickering with Satoru successfully brought you to where you were now.

Pressed against the wooden desk, sweaty and exhausted as your body was chasing the fourth orgasm with no break in between. It was a torture – the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt from overstimulation and burned with pleasure at the same time. You always acted tough, but now you couldn't stop the tear rolling down your cheek as his grip on your hair tightened and his teeth sank into the delicate skin between your neck and shoulder.

"You’re really cryin’”, he grinned teasingly and turned your head more to the side, kissing the tear away. Delighted at the sight, Satoru pulled back and flipped you over so he could see your pretty face when he pushed his girth back onto your swollen insides, kissing every oversensitive spot on his way while hooking your thighs over his hips. You dug fingers into his skin, leaving crescent moon shapes of your nails engraved into his flesh and you once again could feel his pace picking up. Naively, you grabbed at his hip, trying to slow him down but with no effect.

"So pretty, fuck, when you cry like that," he grunted, kissing along the salty trace on your face and down your neck to see the bruising mark of his teeth was already blooming with reds and purples. "Think you have few more in you?", he asked and the thought of few more orgasms terrified you. "You'll have to, 'm nowhere near to be done, wit' ya," a chuckle echoed in his chest and you couldn't tell if his objective was to kill you in the most humiliating way possible or what.

"N-no," you protested and he laughed once more, pulling out almost completely.

"No?", Satoru grined in his usual, annoyingly handsome manner but you barely saw him through the collage of stars in your sight, "'ts too bad you've been naughty lately. Need to fuck some behavior into you."

"Gojo-", you whined, helpless against his muscular body as he was ramming ruthlessly, abusing your swollen oversensitive insides to your limits.

"Nuh-uh", he wrapped his slender fingers around your throat, putting no pressure, but redirecting your head so you looked him in the eyes and you could drown in the crystalline blue tones surrounded by thick snowy eyelashes if you wouldn't know better. "That's not my name, sweetheart."

"Go to hell, Goj-, fuck", you whined and he thrusted harder, your back was slamming against the wooden counter but he was unbothered by the echoing pounding sound that clearly was indicating what was happening in his office.

"That's. not. my. name.", he growled, accentuating every word with a particularly sharp thrust and it was enough for you to drown in the haziness.

"Sa-, uh", you tried, but his pace was unforgiving, his cock fucking you dumb but he hummed teasingly, encouraging you to speak. "'toru- fuck. Satoru, please."

"There we go, wasn't that hard now, was it?", smiling, the sorcerer lifted you up, angling his hips upwards, his cock reaching even deeper although you thought it's impossible. The blunt head kissed every spot inside you and you felt another orgasm approaching. Satoru groaned at how your walls were flexing around his girth and this time, he chased his own, the first one, the one he's been denying himself in order to drive you insane.

He was panting heavily, groaning against your neck, profanities slipping through his mouth as he twitched inside you. Suddenly he grabbed you harshly, nails digging into your trembling thighs and he lowered himself on the expensive leathery chair, giving you a slap to the tender skin, silently ordering you to work. You straddled him, supporting your hands over his shoulders and you pushed him against the back rest, surely bruising his muscles with the harsh grip you had on him. You were desperate to finish him off, to put an end to the torture he’s subjected you to for talking too much. At this point you don’t even remember what caused his composure to snap, what has gotten you into the endless spiral of agonizing pleasure with a man you despised. The man that now you were riding with the last bits of your power, fighting the mind-numbing rush of your own release to bring him to his and you could tell how close he was. Satoru’s jaws were clenched, his fingers were digging harshly into the tender skin of your sides and his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His abs were flexing, cock was twitching and his tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined with endless amounts of fucks and yeses. His eyes closed shut and he threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed at his white hair, smearing open mouthed kisses all over his throat and collar bones, and your movements stuttered with your dripping pussy squelching for the nth time. That was enough for Satoru – he gave in, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled his load into you, filling you completely with warmth and you were quick to come right after him. Your ups and downs became sloppy, uneven as you slowly ride your highs out and finally, you raised your hips just enough to have him out.

Falling back heavily against his body, you leaned your head over his shoulder in hopes to calm the panting. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage, you felt the concoction of juices running down your thigh and dripping onto Satoru’s legs, but you couldn’t care less. With his hands releasing your flesh that he was squeezing unwaveringly, you felt your body finally relaxing, your mind coming back to senses and it slowly came to you, what just happened.

Never, not even once in your life, you considered even willing to kiss Gojo Satoru. Yes, he’s annoyingly handsome; yes, his eyes are the most beautiful, magical blue crystalline spheres nature could ever create, and yes – there was a tension between you two since the day you met him, or at least everyone around always pointed that out but you never truly considered him an option and yet, you not only kissed him, but spend god-knows-how-long fucking him – or rather being fucked by him.

“You have to misbehave more often”, he teased, finally able to form his words coherently and you looked at him, eyes still cloudy but you could tell with no mistake that his lips were curled up in a smirk. You almost heard him smirking, that’s how obvious it was. You blinked, clearing your vision to take in his view. Gojo’s face was blissfully tired, he still was breathing though his mouth and the snowy peaks of his hair clung artistically to his sweaty forehead. He was stunning like this, so fucked out, he looked like he’s high and you took few mental pictures of his handsome daze. You also noted to yourself that you, indeed, need to misbehave more frequently.

» PART TWO

[daddyricsdoll]

Vanilla? ✭ Oscar Piastri

Summary: It's always the quiet ones that are the freakiest. But that wasn't what every other driver on the grid thought as they teased Oscar and you for being too innocent to know anything beyond vanilla sex. So when you guys didn't put up a fight, they figured they were right... until someone was lucky enough to see you and Oscar on the other end of the spectrum of "plain sex".

Warnings: not vanilla sex! fingering, oral (male receiving), bondage (hands tied together), spreader bar (if that even what it’s called), unprotected sex, rough because how else would you have it? Gagging and deep-throating Oscar’s huge dick 😩

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Oscar is the man who makes me wanna wake up in the morning and I love it!! I'm so obsessed with him it's making me go insane, but if I'm going insane it's fine because I'm going insane over him. Everything about him is beautiful and I wanna call him pretty and gorgeous and watch as he blushes. Then ride him and take control of him until he wants to teach me lesson and makes me pass out. (I’m just a girl) Based off of this request.

“Oscar, how would you say relationships outside of F1 have helped you grow in this sport as a driver and as a person. If they had an impact, and if not then why?” Oscar’s PR manager testing questions on him, posing as one of the many journalists trying to break Oscar’s wall that he’s been perfect at keeping up so far. He finds it amusing that they have so much interest in his life, only encouraging him to keep his words to a minimum. Well as long as you don’t come up– his cheeks immediately flush and he starts every sentence with “my girlfriend” before he looks at others and silently begs them to say something to shut him up.

“Well, everyone’s been supportive of my career. Which only makes me want to do my best, and better than that.” Keeping a straight face as he answers until he looks at you beside him then Lando with a proud grin on his face.

“Who’s everyone…? Your girlfriend?” Lando’s voice teases, like every schoolgirl talking about their friend's crush.

“I- yeah. She does a lot for me, helps me let off steam before and after races, she also-”

“Let off steam, huh? Is my Oscar making his girlfriend cum to let off steam?” Lando’s mouth wide open, making an ‘o’ shape. Both you and Oscar have mixed emotions– heat coursing through you remembering just this morning, but also shock from Lando’s unhinged question.

“You’d be surprised?” Oscar’s answer broad, but you knew. Letting Lando believe that Oscar lets you cum, when his favourite thing is edging you until tears roll down your face.

“Oscar, you probably just learnt what a clit is.” Lando having nothing better to do than tease him as his pale cheeks turn pink. 

“Believe whatever makes you happy.” Oscar shutting down the conversation before he reveals too much, a little smile on his lips as he chuckles and moves his hand further up your thigh.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

It wasn’t just Lando who would have a say about you and Oscar’s sexual life, but any driver who happened to walk into the conversation at the perfect time.

“Oh yeah, Oscar you’re vanilla.” His fellow Australian, Daniel Ricciardo, says. Joining them on their walk to wherever they all had to be next. 

“Well actually I think Oscar is a little more than vanilla. He’s vanilla but not vanilla.” Logan pops in too.

“No. Oscar is sooo vanilla. Like he’s too scared to choke his girlfriend because she’ll die and he’s never marked her so she knows she’s his.” Lando expresses his words with so much passion it makes Oscar roll his eyes but know exactly what Lando’s doing when their hotel rooms are beside each other and he’s invited a girl over. 

“Wow. Calm down Lando, I think we learnt a little bit more from you than Oscar. You definitely need a girlfriend.” Daniel spoke the words everyone was thinking. Letting Oscar finally breathe and have all the attention over to Lando and his desires.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

“Fuck, I needed you.” Oscar groans out, thrusting himself ever deeper into your mouth. “Talking ‘bout how vanilla we are. But look at us.” The position you were in was unimaginable. You lay on your back, head on the edge of the sofa as Oscar rammed into your mouth with his fingers opening you wide and making you cum. But still, that wasn’t enough, your hands tied together and a spreading bar made sure your legs couldn’t be shut, always ready for Oscar, but with a blindfold over your eyes how would you know? Each of your moans were muffled by his cock and as one of his hands played with your clit the other toyed with your nipple.

Blood rushed to your head from this position and it filled in for the loss of his hand around your neck. Oscar pounded into you, his dick making you gag as you deepthroated him. An explosion of fireworks inside of you as he continued making you cum, a loud scream trying it’s best to flee your puffy lips, but Oscar couldn’t help but enjoy hearing you struggle to make out any coherent sounds because of his cock. 

By now it was impossible to remember the amount of times he had made you release. From his mouth, fingers and dick, all you did know was that that number was only going to increase. 

Each of his moves were so intense, Oscar had you spellbound. Unable to notice anything other than him. Well that was until he pounded himself as deep as he could into your mouth and then stopped. Everything went silent.

“Oh fuck! Oscar?!” Those words certainly didn’t come out of your mouth, and when you realised who did say that, oh you couldn’t have been more embarrassed, but somehow aroused. Seconds later the door finally shut, and you could only think about the uncensored view Lando had of the both of you. 

“Fuck, I’ll deal with him later. But for now…you need to cum.” Pulling out of your swollen mouth and grabbing you off the couch to lay your shamelessly sinful body on the floor. Oscar doesn’t take his time, manhandling your legs so your feet are nearly inline with your head and then making your arms keep them back by going in front of the spreader bar.

Leaving your pussy so exposed and vulnerable that Oscar could do whatever he liked between those drenched folds. It was always a gamble with Oscar, sometimes he’d take his time to tease you, others he wouldn’t even give you time to catch breath. This was just as unpredictable as others, by now you would either be covered in your own tears from his edging or on the verge of passing out because you could feel him in your throat after coming in you repeatedly. 

You felt less of an advantage, not even being able to lay eyes on him, so you listened to your own heavy breathing until he touched you again. Fingers going between your folds and spreading them apart with his index and ring finger. Lightly teasing you with his middle one. “Looks like you’ve had enough today huh? Or can you take one more?” 

You nod your head as an answer, but it’s never enough as he asks you for words.

“Y-yes. I can take more.” You force out between breaths, in shock of how you even managed to say those words. 

“Oh really? Well that’s great.” Oscar holds your pliant body up even further and then makes a swift move of ramming himself deep inside of you. Once again it pulled all of the oxygen from your lungs and the stretch from the position couldn’t be compared to the stretch from his cock. You couldn’t complain as he thrusted in again and hit your g-spot. Bringing more tears to your red eyes.

Grunts and groans slipping past his lips and making his actions such a godly sensation. 

Oscar pounds himself into you with no mercy, finding pleasure in your moans and cries. You wish to hold him, dig your fingers into his shoulders and mark his back. Adorn his pale skin in love bites and make his lips swollen. Thinking about the way his body flexes with every thrust and how divine he would look from this position that you’ve been in many times but each new one has a different effect.

“What’d you think Lando’s telling them?” Oscar grips your thighs tighter–fingers certainly making bruises– keeping you in place as he vigorously rams inside of your overstimulated pussy. Never losing pattern or momentum.

“You think he’s telling them about how you took me so well? Your hands tied up? And how fucking good you looked between my legs.” Each of Oscar’s words having such an effect on you it could've been a trick of hypnotism. Your legs shaking and lips parted as you came. Oscar savoured the beautiful sounds leaving your mouth and he worked harder to fuck your high out and bring his in.

You clenched around him, forcing a moan to finally leave his lips and bless your ears. Oscar spasms and releases inside of you. Pushing himself so deep and his cum even deeper. He thrusts a few more times, easing both of you out and spreading his cum inside your walls. Oscar sits in you for a while before pulling out. “Fuck, that was so. Fucking. Good.” He starts untying you and helping you come undone from all of the restraints. Letting you lay flat on the floor as he did all the work.

“I would’ve been in you for hours if he didn’t come in. Can’t imagine what he said to them”

Oscar crawls up your body and plants a kiss on your lips. 

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Finally leaving Oscar’s room you both didn’t know what to expect. Well definitely not drivers surrounding a small table as Lando spoke to them all with hand actions and his face even worse. 

“Y’know vanilla isn’t even that bad. But wow Piastri, I didn’t think that.” Daniel brings all the attention to you two. Every driver turned their head with a series of reactions on their faces.

“You are freaky Oscar.” Logan couldn’t hold back and somehow Fernando was there to agree with him.

“I have to tell Charles! Now I know what you two do.” Pierre smirks, making you blush and look at the ground.

“Well I guess I was wrong, but Oscar why didn’t you tell me you sneaky boy. Because then I had to see it.” 

“It seemed like you wanted to join.” 

“No I-”

“The way you’re speaking about Lando, it seemed like you wanted to join.” Daniel once again kind of saving Oscar from these unfortunate topics.

“What? Guys this is about Oscar and how freaky he is with his girlfriend!”

“If you want to join, just ask.” You finally speak, teasing Lando and watching the way his face changes. 

“Oh you guys are so not vanilla!”

[etfrin]

⤷❝Jealous, jealous girl | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, toxic relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, fucked up thoughts, toxic! jealous! possessive reader, bondage (eyes and hands), dom sub undertones, face riding, cunnilingus, thigh riding, riding, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young! president Snow x fem! reader

⇢☾Summary: being jelly leads to sexy times!

⇢☾A/N: hope y'all enjoy this!

previous installments of AM au: the study, mine to love, the quiet gift

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

He didn't take account of your possessiveness when he decided to charm some of the elitists of the Capitol. It was his duty to keep them under his pocket whether it be with empty smiles or deadly threats. Though the latter might have been easier with how you were glaring at everyone who made a passing or suggestive comment towards Coriolanus.

Even with his arm around your waist, you pressed against him wasn't enough to satiate you. His presence wasn't enough to calm you down, not when you wanted to burn down everyone in the gala who looked at Snow with lustful eyes. He was taken. He was your husband. Yours.

Coryo didn't realize what was wrong, surely it was obvious that you were in a bad mood but that was no way to behave. He had to talk with his pet.

And he was planning on that when he entered the room, to see you on the phone, a call that you immediately cut and look at him with a smile that cut through his bones because he knew it was fake. It was a smile he had to wear a thousand times and now you were looking at him the same way.

“What was that call?” He asked roughly, his eyebrows furrowing, his fingers twitching, his mind already thinking of locking you up and wondering if you had found a lover. He- he-

“It was just-” You tilt your head, your mind already figuring out his thoughts, your first instinct was to lie. However, you knew better than that.

“I want to fuck someone over,” you said instead, blunt and straight to the point without any riddles so that your husband doesn't overthink it. He.. he felt himself calm down a bit. “Who?” He asked his mind at ease. Has someone hurt you? Insulted you? It was rare for you to take such actions, especially when Coriolanus made sure no one could mistreat you.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if you should lie. Snow hadn't seen your ugly side as much as you have seen him. But… perhaps it's about time he should and you were angry. At him and everyone who dared their lustful eyes and filthy hands on your man (You wanted to claw their eyes out, you wanted to cut their hand off for such a sin). Corio called you his dove, his pet, his property. But he seems to forget that he is also yours, your husband, your lover, your man. It was time to remind him of that.

You walked towards him until he backed up to the door, it was a position that you both knew except he was the one pinned for a change. “A bitch,” you ended up saying, your fingertips grazing his sharp jawline. His eyes widened, a familiar heaviness to his breathing and his pupils began to dilate. “Which bitch?” He said, turning his face away to focus and not kiss your pretty lips. “The one who couldn't take her hands off what's mine,” you whispered, your hands on his customized suit, pushing the fabric away from his shoulder and letting it fall. Then your fingers were busy twisting the buttons so you could see this man's golden skin, but the action was stopped when Corio softly asked, “Yours?”

Even if his tone was soft, you knew better than to believe it. Coriolanus Snow belonging to someone? He couldn't think of a worse joke, that just made you even more frustrated, so frustrated that you don't bother unbuttoning his buttons. You begin to rip them one by one. Coryo allows you to act in this manner, knowing that you need to deal with this in your own way.

“I am not yours,” he said, “I don't belong to you.” You wanted to slap the man. You never had a greater urge too before. You clenched your jaw, “You are.” Your hand goes to the pendant you always wore after your first anniversary. A necklace with his initials.

“It’s a two-way street, Coriolanus Snow. You're my husband, my man, and my lover. I am yours as much as you are mine,” your fingers grip the chain, “Or I can tear this from my neck and walk away.” Coryo was going to punish you for those words, there was no doubt about it. His eyes, those blue ocean eyes had anger in them now. How dare you threaten, Snow?

You waited for an answer, both of your chests heaving with passion waiting to explode. “Threaten to leave again, I'll break those legs of yours and chain you to the bed.” Your breath hitches from his words, the truth ringing in his voice. This insane man… you had no words to say so you didn't. You pressed him to the door, your lips clashing with his. For the first time, you didn't give in to the fight for dominance. Both of your teeth clashing, the tongues fighting in war and neither side winning but becoming a greater mess.

“You're a coward, Coryo,” you whispered as you were pushed back to the bed, neither of you giving up the fight to control the kiss. You refused to be underneath him for him tonight. Coriolanus Snow owned you and you wanted the taste of owning him. You manage to straddle him, saliva covering both of your chins from the messy kiss neither refusing to break.

“You- how dare you let her touch you like this,” you whispered, a hint of insecurity creeping into your sound. “They can look at you all they want, envy all they want but touch is reserved for me only. For me, Coryo. Next time it's brought to my attention that you let yourself be groped like that whether it be for your interests or Panem. Rest assured they won't be seeing the sun again and every inch of your skin that was touched…” You couldn't complete the threat, not when his eyes widened. Coriolanus felt like he was looking in a mirror.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, “There is a reason why we work out, sweetheart. It's not because of whatever formulas you have in your mind to control me, to have me. It's because I am just as insane as you, if not more but I have an infinite amount of control over myself.”

He was thinking, thinking of what you didn't know. You didn't want to know what epiphany had crushed the man from your honest words filled with ugly deep jealousy. You didn't want to let yourself wonder either if he would have preferred someone sane, someone less jealous and possessive. Someone opposite of him in every regard.

But Snow leans forward to kiss you. It's… delicate the kiss. A brush of his soft lips against yours, a grin blessing his face. “What?” You whispered, hesitantly. “You’re perfect,” he said, and those words did things to you, nearly enough to melt away your anger. Nearly.

“And your perfection is aggravating,” you said, with each word a kiss was pressed to his lips. “I love you,” you whispered, a wet kiss pressed to his jaw that went down the path of his neck to his pulse. Your hands shamelessly undress him. “But you truly vex me, Coryo.” you let out as you bite the spot of his pulse, sucking his life from his skin, formatting a bruise, marking him as yours.

“Calm down,” he grunts as he also undresses you, his touch on your heated skin damning you to hell. “I am here, pet.” Finally, both of you were unrestricted by clothes, lips clashing with each other as the hands roamed the body in a hurry. Neither of you was going to disappear, but the desperation as if one of you would slip away like sand clawed at both of your minds.

You didn't reply to his reassurance, you pushed him till his back was pinned on the mattress and he let you. For once you were in control and you had no idea what to do with it. You bite your lip, pondering what should be the next course. You wanted to ride him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to regret it. But most importantly you wanted him to realize he is addicted to you too, as you are with him.

So you pulled back, ignoring the flash of confusion on his face, and went to the closet to pick out two ties. One red, another black, both gifts from you. Coryo raised his eyebrows but indulged you without saying a word, knowing that he would get you back for it. You let him sit up, as you tied his hands together behind his back and then tied the blindfold around his eyes.

“Let me play with you today, Coryo,” you said, “It will be fun.” Coryo replied with a warning, “Do not cross the line.”

You were never an obedient pet. You placed your cunt on his thigh, your folds soaking with arousal, your walls needing his cock but you ignored the want as you began to grind yourself slowly against the tense muscles of his leg. “Coriolanus Snow, the perfect man, the perfect student, the perfect president. Tell me Coryo, would you consider yourself a perfect husband?” “Sweetheart,” he warns you, not ready to hear whatever criticism you want to spew. He could never be a perfect man, perfect in the sense of good and bad. He couldn't but that doesn't mean he has to face it.

“I think you are,” you whispered to his ear, causing him to relax visibly, it was rather pathetic how quickly your admission of yours made his cock fucking hard, harder than before. Your pussy continues to grind against his thigh, your hips rolling at a relaxed pace as you coat his skin in your juices. “You’re perfect in every sense of the word,” you praised him, your lips set on creating multiple shades of mark on his shoulder and collarbone.

He didn't need your words, he didn't know your praises yet a groan escaped his lips. His breath is heavier than before as your grinding gets faster. “Let me see you,” he whispered, and you wanted to deny him. You did but you knew he wanted to know if you were lying, manipulating him in any manner and you weren't cruel enough to play that game with him. You took off the blindfold from his eyes and the vulnerability that showed in his blue eyes made you so wet, your pussy clenching around nothing and he could feel the spasm on his thigh.

His eyes search yours for a hint of a lie, he doesn't find any. Both of your lips met for a kiss, knocking us breathless as you wrapped your arms around his neck and began to roll your hips faster on his thigh, getting close to a high. Meanwhile, his cock was leaking onto his abs, thick goops of pre-cum that you swipe on your fingertips and lick as you don't give any attention to his length. A sound you couldn't classify leaves Coriolanus's lips as he watches you taste himself.

It felt perfect, you teasing him like this. You are in control, despite Coriolanus' not-so-subtle attempts to get rid of the knot that tied his hands together. ‘I am in control, love,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue instead and sucked on the sweet spot of his jaw. “Wanna sit on your face,” you whispered to him.

“Fuck, fuck, dove” he cursed before he nods. You maneuver him into the position, your cunt mere inches from his greedy mouth that had already started teasing your folds with kitten licks that you mewling with need. “Coryo,” you whispered, pleading to be completely honest as you lowered yourself down onto his face. His tied arms above his head, your fingers laced with his (the safe word being three squeezes if you end up suffocating him). Your pussy finally reached its destination, finding his lips and his tongue. The slaughter of your sanity had begun.

He was so messy with this, it surprised your soul. His licks weren't long and calculated per usual but short, teasing like that had you bucking your hips onto his face. You try to be careful, you swear you do but all was lost in your hazy pleasure. You moan his name, again and again, and Coriolanus gets high off it. The power you hand him without realizing, the control you give him of your pleasure.

“Coryo!” you cry out, your movements getting fervent. You were close to snapping from riding his thigh, from the high and adrenaline of the situation. It wasn't hard to shatter, your cunt gushing out juices as your walls began to spasm. The orgasm turns your bones into jelly but you have work to do. You have shattered but you yet hadn't broken Snow.

Coryo hums against your folds, licking all the juices up, nipping and kissing your clit with such attention, it sends shivers down your spine. You pulled yourself off of his face, and your pussy begins to ache again because of how debauched he looks. His mouth gasping, his face shining with your arousal all over his chin, beads of your juices dripping down his skin. You closed your eyes, getting your senses back to you.

You let out a shaky breath yourself and you bring him back to a sitting position, one of your hands on his nape and another finding his cock. He lets out a groan of relief and pleasure as you squeeze his girth with your fist. You stroke his cock several times and coat his length with his pre-cum. “Gonna ride you, baby,” you whispered to him, your lips meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself.

You placed yourself on his lap, one of your hands going to his tied wrists, playing with the knots unaware that a lot of it has come loose. You don't even realize it as you were too busy sinking on his cock, your other hand in his hair, gripping the blonde curls rather roughly.

Coryo leans forward, pushing his face between your breasts, his tongue licking stripes of your salty skin and his teeth digging into the sides of your supple flesh making you let out a sharp moan. Your hold on his hair gets tighter, as you adjust to his twitching length inside of your sensitive walls. His lips catch the pendant, the only thing you are still wearing. You look down to watch him suck the ‘S’ in his mouth and you whimper from the sight, your pussy clenching around his cock.

By now your fiddling with his tied wrists had completely untied the knots, something you didn't realize as you became drunk on him. You place your head on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips. Snow lets you control the pace, not letting you know he is free of his bounds. He takes and takes whatever you give him even as his balls tighten with the urge to come. He bites his lower lip to stave off the urge. Second by second, minute by minute passes as your bodies get hotter and hotter, waiting to burn the brightest.

“Coryo,” you begin to whisper, “You're mine, right?” This time the insecurity in your voice was clear, something that would make you cringe later. This time Coriolanus takes control.

His hands find themselves kneading the flesh of your hips, stopping you from fucking yourself on his cock. You freeze in surprise, your eyes widening. “It’s our wedding ring I wear every day. If that doesn't hold any value to you. Don't you dare ask me that question again?”

“Now fucking cum on my cock, pet,” he said, his eyes turning into snake-like slits, “Don't think I'll forget of your behavior tonight, baby.” You swallow nervously, but Coryo says he is yours, not in those exact words but it was Coryo, he was never known for straight words anyway.

You begin to ride him again, picking up pace as you keep slamming down on his cock, his cockhead kissing your cervix from this position. Your hands go to his shoulder to use as leverage as you continue to fuck yourself on him. “My love,” you moan as you felt yourself getting close over the edge, from how his dick was throbbing inside your cunt, you could tell he was close too. He wedges a hand between the both of your connecting bodies and his fingers find your puffy oversensitive clit and he begins to play with the bud making you cry out.

“That's it, dove,” he whispered, smirking, “Cum on my cock, you're the only one in this entire universe with that privilege.” You whimper, feeling your pussy spasm on his cock repeatedly as all the tension leaves your body. He shallowly thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

You turn into jelly on his lap, your cunt twitching occasionally from oversensitivity. He turns you over so you are laid down on the bed, and he hooks up your legs on his shoulders.

He leans down, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips brush against yours and he says, “Time for your punishment, doll. You had your chance to indulge, my pet. It's my turn now.”

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[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you. 

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction. 

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.  

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly. 

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.  

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says. 

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze. 

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit. 

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement. 

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge. 

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.  

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore. 

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?” 

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm. 

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.  

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together. 

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth. 

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him. 

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth. 

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand. 

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his. 

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment. 

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed. 

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready.  But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own. 

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent. 

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both. 

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”  

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie. 

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case. 

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back. 

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up. 

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken. 

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it. 

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed. 

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

[afanofmanyhats]

One of my favorite things about Tolkien's writing is that he has a very specific, recurring trope. For lack of a better term, I'm dubbing this the Tolkien Wife-Guy.

This is mainly obvious in the Silmarillion, but Tolkien loves to write couples where the man is a notable individual- nobility, commits a great deed, or both- but the wife is at least equally notable, if not more beloved or powerful. Manwe is the king of the Valar and Eru's main representative in Arda? Everyone loves Varda more, and Melkor fears her more than his own brother. Elu Thingol is the king of the Silvan Elves? His wife is Melian, whose Girdle is the magic that keeps Morgoth's forces at bay. Beren is a chief among the Edain, who befriends animals and survives one of the most nightmarish places in Beleriand? His wife is Luthien.

Even in Lord of the Rings we see this occur, though the couples are on more even footing. Tom Bombadil is... Tom Bombadil, but Goldberry is the River-daughter, and Tom adores her above everything else, and the hobbits are completely taken in with her when she's their host. Similarly, while Celeborn is a mighty lord among Elves, Galadriel is one of the only Noldor in Middle-earth who saw the Two Trees, and her hair inspired Feanor to make the Silmarils, not to mention her own accomplishments in the war against Morgoth. Aragorn is the king of Gondor and Arnor, but Arwen is the Evenstar of the Elves, the descendant of three(?) different royal Elven lines. And Faramir becomes the Steward of Gondor and is one of the noblest men alive, but Eowyn killed the Witch-king, so you know. She got the grander moment for the saga.

But with (most) of these couples, we never get the impression that the man views his wife as Less-Than, or as a junior partner. Thingol is the main exception to this in how he dismisses Melian's counsel, and that's made out to be his foolishness within the text. Otherwise, Manwe treats Varda as his co-ruler, Beren never tries to downplay Luthien's achievements, and I'm pretty sure most of Tom Bombadil's dialogue is about how gorgeous Goldberry is. It's really sweet.

All of these examples really testify to how much Tolkien loved his wife. People rightly point to Beren and Luthien as the prime example of that, but I think you can find it in these other couples too. Even though Edith is mainly known to history as Mrs. Tolkien, it's evident to me that Jirt saw her as a whole person worthy of admiration outside of being his wife.

[lewisvinga]

the designer vs. the model | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; fans begged and begged fashion icon and designer y/n to help charles out, luckily for him, she gave him the girlfriend effect

fc; jennie kim

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

note; requested !

masterlist !

liked by yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername: cannes film festival; the design, before & after 🎀

username: AN ICON

username: i knew she’d eat this gala up😩

yourbestfriend: my beautiful talented best friendddd😻

yourusername: hehe love u xx

username: her talent needs to be studied

username: pls style charles_leclerc he needs help

username: studying fashion to be just like y/n!

username: y/n we need your talent on the f1 grid specifically in the ferrari garage specifically charles_leclerc

username: heyyy girl, u gonna need to share your styling talents w a certain monegasque 😁

username: oh i just know she’d give charles the girlfriend effect

username: STYLE CHARLES_LECLERC

yourusername: whaaaa ö

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, and others !

charles_leclerc: new profession: photographer

username: omg y/n liked!

username: we bullied him into only wearing sweatshirts and jeans omg 😭😭

username: thats what he gets for his horrendous style…

pierregasly: imagine you as a photographer 😂

charles_leclerc: hey! i’m not too bad!

username: yourusername pls help this poor man , he has very poor fashion taste🙏

username: ok this fit isn’t too bad, plain! but not that bad!

username: yourusername mother pls help father out

yourusername: i think the people want me to style you , haha !

charles_leclerc: my style can’t be that bad, no?

yourusername: it could use some improvement…

charles_leclerc: well, i’m open for suggestions!

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; don’t worry ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna make sure he has a good wardrobe 😇!] [caption 2; designing n making some new pieces for his closet 😵‍💫]

charles_leclerc uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; the forced smile after i showed her some outfit ideas…] [caption 2; her real smile after i got her a latte for being patient w my poor fashion skills😁

liked by yourusername, carlossainz5, and others !

charles_leclerc: photo dump , but do you notice any new fashion improvements ? 😁

yourusername: much better than those horrendous blue and white pants …

charles_leclerc: they weren’t that bad

yourusername: cha…… they were horrid

username: wait…. he fr looks good

yourusername: he’s got a pretty face but thats just enhanced by the better fashion sense!😁

charles_leclerc: u think i’m pretty?😊

yourusername: ur my prettiest model

username: OH HELLO

username: hes 100% dating y/n bc thats an improvement from that horrid blue outfit 😭

username: muy buenos días y que vivan los hombres 😍 [very good morning and long live men]

username: his style is improving, everyone cheered!

username: the sigh of relief i just let out

carlossainz55: mate, you have everyone relieved from your new fashion improvements 🤣

charles_leclerc: and i can see why after i looked at my old outfits…

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: the designer vs. the model 🌸

tagged; charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: where would my closet be w/o you, chérie…

yourusername: unfortunately, seen in the public

charles_leclerc: my favorite and the most prettiest designer ❤️

yourusername: you’re my favorite and the most prettiest model 💞

username: oh my goodness gracious me

username: STOPP THEYRE SO CUTE😖😖

username: she got him a good pair of glasses thank u queen y/n

username: them at the basketball game together 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username: we’re abt to get the best charles outfits thank u y/n😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

yourbestfriend: watch your back sharl she was mine first

charles_leclerc: womp womp she’s mine now

yourusername: ladies, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around ( btw yourbestfriend come over asap i need to do another fitting on u )

[sashaforthewin]

Multi-chapter fic on Ao3

Steve had been enjoying a nice relaxing lounge by the pool despite it being night. He had his hearing aid off and his fruity drink and a romance novel Robin had let him borrow. He was determined to have a good time despite the circumstances. 

Someone tapped his foot, scaring the crap out of Steve and making him drop his book and nearly knock over his drink. 

It was a fellow cruise passenger and he was saying something. Steve turned his hearing aid back on.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked why you were out here instead of at the concert,” repeated the man with a smile.

“Oh, um. I’m not actually a fan of metal music. It gives me headaches if I listen to more than one or two songs in a row,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

This stranger was still clearly a metal head, but he looked significantly less scary than most of the ones he had seen so far that day. Everyone Steve met had been nice, but Steve hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone he wasn’t a fan until now. Maybe because it was just the two of them out here and he was smiling so cutely. 

“Not a metal fan? Well damn, not to critique your life choices, but I think maybe going on a metal cruise wasn’t an ideal choice for you? I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

There were plenty of deck lounges around, all empty, but Eddie sat down on Steve’s right next to his legs. 

“Steve. So Steve, why are you on a metal cruise when you don’t like metal? These tickets were not exactly cheap and there’s no way you missed the theme, it was pretty clearly advertised,” Eddie asked teasingly.

Steve looked Eddie over, noting that he was actually pretty cute. Pretty eyes, nice full lips, dimples, and he was that type of lanky Steve was drawn to. He had good skin and his hair had some volume and texture to it, Steve could work with that. Bit of a fixer-upper, but a better starting point than most of the men that had flirted with him since his last failed relationship. He also had the vibe, so Steve decided this guy would be fine to open up to. 

“Well, Eddie, I bought this ticket for my dear friend Dustin for his birthday, but then the little shit went and outed me to my parents. Accidentally, of course, and he feels like shit about it. But still, that got me kicked out of my home so maybe I’m being petty but I decided he shouldn’t get to go on this cruise after all. I forgive him, it really was an accident, but still, gotta teach him a lesson.” Steve shrugged. “And I would’ve gotten the ticket refunded but the money would’ve gone back to my parents and they clearly don’t deserve to get anything back from me. So, instead of trying to figure out how to sell a ticket to a very niche interest cruise, I figured I deserved to just come and treat myself for four days before I have to go back to living in my ex-girlfriend’s basement. It’s actually pretty nice to have the ship to myself while all you guys are in there shaking your heads to loud music.” Steve gestured to the pool and the drink.

“Ex- girl friend’s basement?” Eddie asked.

“Shut up, I’m bi.” Steve smacked Eddie on the arm with his book. 

Eddie grabbed the book and looked at it as he replied, “Hey, just checking to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree.”

“Oh? Is that what you’re doing, barking up my tree?” Steve said, playfully.

“If you’ll let me,” Eddie flirted back.

“So how come you’re not in the show right now?” Steve asked, gently stealing his book back from Eddie’s grasp.

“Oh, I’m touring with those guys right now, I have heard them play the same set like fifteen times already. I’d much rather be out here getting to chat with you. You know you’re beautiful, right? How come you don’t live with your boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Eddie asked, quite obvious in his fishing for information.

“I’m single and yes, I do know I’m beautiful, but I still like hearing it. Are you like a roadie or something?”

“Actually,” Eddie said, “I’m the lead guitarist in the headlining band. We play tomorrow night. Can I buy you another drink? Maybe dinner?”

“The, uh, the bill goes to our cabins,” Steve answered, too shocked that an apparently famous musician was asking him out to respond appropriately.

“Baby, I’ll put your entire tab on my cabin if you’ll let me. You are the most beautiful, and dare I say cleanest man on this entire boat. Metal heads are great, but they aren’t really my type.”

Steve takes a sip of his cold drink just to make sure he’s not fallen asleep and dreaming. The ocean is calm and the moon is full and he is most definitely awake.

“And what is your type?” Steve asked. 

“Handsome men with soft hands who will let me pamper them,” Eddie said, picking up Steve’s hand and feeling his lack of calluses. He placed a kiss onto each finger tip. “These hands aren’t meant for labor, let me spoil you rotten.”

Well, Steve reasoned, even if this ended up being just a weekend fling, it was going to be worth the price of admission.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (pt 2)

This one actually is edited thanks to @basementqueercock! Thank you friend!

part 1 | Masterpost

-------

Vlad had been making a stink at the Gala about the Wayne brats taking his godson from him without his permission when the music suddenly cut out. Bruce Wayne himself stalked towards Vlad with an expression that was honestly a little intimidating, even if Vlad obviously wasn’t scared of such an empty headed pretty boy even if he was one of the richest and most influential people on the planet. He was Plasmius! He could take a rich pretty boy is he had to!

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, thank goodness! Your children have taken my Godson off somewhere! I’m sure it’s just a harmless prank but he’s a bit fragile and unpredictable so I really think that it would be best if-“

“Is he fragile and unpredictable because he’s pregnant and you knew?” Bruce asked low and dangerous. Silence spread out around them, even though there’s no way they could have heard they saw the look on Brucie’s face. He rarely got angry but when he did it was serious, when he did it usually meant someone had hurt a kid.

Vlad blanched for a moment, Danny had been so tight lipped about it, so unwilling to tell even those he trusted how did These people know?! “What? What on earth are you talking about? Of course he’s not pregnant, I mean he’s a boy!” Vlad huffed and Bruce’s jaw tightened even more somehow.

“He’s not leaving with you. Get out.” He said low and menacing, then raised his voice. “Sorry to cut the party short everyone but something has come up, a situation that really needs my attention so I’m going to have to put an end to the party early.”

“What do you mean!? He’s MY God son! MY heir! You can’t just keep him from me!” Vlad said, he knew that his eyes were starting to glow a little red but he couldn’t help it. “He’s MINE! Return him to me or you will regret it I swear!”

“See him out.” Bruce said dismissively to a handful of guards who had approached at the start of the commotion A lot of the socialites were already starting to see themselves out, now was not the time to argue, or even stick around when it looked like this might get physical.

“I will be back! I will be back with lawyers and police and the brat’s parents,” Vlad vowed but couldn’t risk fighting the guards any more than a usual old man would on the way out with so many eyes on him. Well he just needed to find a place alone. Then he could transform and come back, possess Bruce Wayne and make him do something heinous in public to ruin him for this.. this- this INDIGNITY!

-------

Bruce was having a hard time keeping his Batman expressions off his face as he saw that everyone was out of his house and he knew his children were having the same trouble. Dick looked like he was ready to bash someone’s head in and Steph wasn’t that much better. Damian was standing by the door, seeing everyone out with frosty politeness that no one would mistake as genuine. Bruce felt just a little bad, it wasn’t anyone’s fault what they had found tonight. No one else knew about the clearly abused teen they were currently harbouring, but none of the family could help it either. Bruce would send all the guests gift baskets once they could announce what was going on.

Alfred was on the phone with Bruce’s lawyers, sending them the mildly distorted audio from Danny’s earlier conversation with Cas and Dick, and the footage from Vlad Master’s outburst. That had the same sort of distortion over it too which was odd, he’d have to look into it. Cas had already informed him she thought Danny was a meta of some sort, maybe it was connected to that? Or maybe they were aliens? Though Danny being trans was currently the most plausible explanation for his pregnancy. They’d find out more later. What mattered was the footage of both of those would be enough for Bruce to get emergency custody while the family was investigated. 

Tim was with Danny in the room Alfred had fixed for him, helping him settle in and lending him some clothes. Tim was the closest to Danny’s age and also one of the calmer ones right now so he was in charge of trying to make Danny feel safe and comfortable while the family took up battle stations to deal with the legal and logistical elements of this.

Bruce made sure everyone was out, the perimeter was secure, and Oracle was at her computer watching the security feed for anything suspicious including the pattern of distortion Vlad and Danny seemed to emit. He wasn’t sure how paranoid he should be about all this, but he’d seen the way Vlad’s eyes sparked red when he was angry and Batman was sure he was a lot more dangerous then he first seemed. And not just in the way that he was apparently willing to impregnate a boy young enough to be his son.

Finally he couldn’t avoid going to check on Danny anymore. Not that he was Really avoiding it, just that he knew this was going to be an exhausting and difficult conversation and he needed to brace himself for it. With every step towards Danny’s new room he felt the weight gather on his shoulders of what this child must have been through.

He knocked, and let himself in. Immediately clocking the way Danny tensed at the sight of him. Of course a rich older man would set off his alarm bells. Bruce gave the softest smile he could and went to pull out the desk chair across from the bed Danny was sitting on, well out of arms reach so he wouldn’t seem like a threat as he sat down. He glanced at Tim who nodded and went and sat on the bed next to Danny. Solidarity, willing to stand up against Bruce if Danny needed it, safety.

“Hello Danny, it’s nice to meet you. My children told me a bit about.. your situation,” Bruce said with a small grimace. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions? I promise I won’t judge you whatever you say, and I promise I am on your side. No matter what I will try to keep you safe okay? Just tell me the truth, it’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

“Alright Mr. Wayne,” Danny said, though he was still wary.

“Thank you, please call me Bruce. So first, what’s your full name?” he asked deciding to start super easy.

“Daniel James Fenton,” Danny replied softly.

“Your parents names?”

“Doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton,” Huh the fact that he called his parents doctor like it was part of their name seemed to be significant though Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 16,” He said. A little older than he looked but still no where near old enough to have the weight of the world on his shoulders like he did.

“And you’re pregnant?” Bruce asked as gently as he could, Danny nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Danny said softly and Bruce nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Did you take a test then?” He asked and Danny grimaced making a so so motion.

“It’s not… that simple,” He said softly.

“Can you explain it to me please?” Bruce asked softly.

Danny took a deep breath and licked his lips, hesitating, opening his mouth to stat, hesitating again and biting his lip. Bruce stayed quiet as he watched the conflict on Danny’s face. “You work with the justice league right?” Danny asked suddenly which seemed like a bit of a non sequitur to Bruce but he needed. “A bunch of the members aren’t human right?” Ah, Bruce nodded again. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am Danny,” Bruce promised, soft and reassuring. “People don’t have to be human or from earth to be people. Whatever is going on with you you’re still a person, and a kid, and deserve to be protected.”

“Okay,” Danny said as he scrutinized Bruce’s body language for any sign that he was lying. “Okay. I’ve never been able to trust any adults with this shit but I can’t keep doing this on my own so okay. I’m not human, not fully anyway, not anymore. These are..” He touched his stomach. “Like if you did an ultrasound you wouldn’t see embryos more like… Hang on Here.”

Bruce blinked as Danny suddenly, reached Inside himself, and before he could panic Danny had pulled out a perfectly round object that filled his palm. It shimmered with light from within, cold and sparkling with stars. “Our kind is more energy and light then anything else. This is Us, the mind, heart, everything we are is stored in our core the rest is formed around that. I mean for most of my kind, I’m still half human.” Danny said before replacing the orb inside him. “I have two other little cores inside me right now, feeding on my energy to develop properly, you could see them on an Xray. I don’t know how long they’ll take honestly.” He sighed caressing his stomach again.

 “But I can feel them inside me, I can feel their worry when I’m scared, and their joy when I’m happy, and their love. They’re my babies.” He said with the softest most paternal smile on his lips. The bags under his eyes were awful, he was clearly exhausted and stressed, but his expression told Bruce Danny thought it was all going to be worth it for his children. It brought a lump to his throat he had to clear before he could speak again.

“Okay, do you have access to healthcare appropriate for your.. species?” He asked and Danny nodded. Though he was tight lipped still.

“There are protections for non-human species in America you know,” Tim said.

Bruce and Tim exchanged a confused look as Danny barked a laugh. “Not for MY kind, we were specifically excluded,” He said with a wry curl to his lips. “The shadow or echo left behind when a proper human dies, not sentient or sapient they say. Malicious and dangerous they say. To be captured or exterminated on sight. They would take me, experiment on me, probably put my babies in jars or something.”

Oh, oh fuck, he was shaking, eyes blank and glassy like he was heading towards a panic attack. “Danny! Danny look at me,” Bruce said as he leaned forward and Danny’s gaze flicked up to his face. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get you. You’re clearly not what they say, and anyone who would hurt a child is not the good guy in this story.”

“Who are they?” Tim asked with an expression that promised swift and vicious retribution.

Danny took another deep breath. “The GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward. They’re a government agency, they’ve been hunting in my hometown for a while. Early on we tried to call the Justice Legue, but I think they were jamming the lines or something,” Danny said looking down and biting his lip.

Fuck this poor kid really couldn’t catch a break! Bruce was sure that the ‘ghosts’ these idiots were hunting weren’t really anything of the sort, but he would look into this and see what he could find. Tim was clearly itching to as well bad he wasn’t willing to leave Danny alone with Bruce, good lad.

“And what about your parents? Do you think you could be safely returned to their home?” Bruce asked, as much as he wanted to keep Danny reunification was supposed to be the goal of fostering.

“No!” Danny nearly yelped sitting up straight. “No! They work for the GIW! They design most of their weapons. If they ever found I’d been contaminated- I don’t want to think the worst of them but even if they still recognized me as their son the babies-“ He cut off, wrapping both his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

“Okay, we’ll call child protective services, my lawyer, and the Justice League. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Bruce promised Danny. “And you can stay here as long as you need to. Is there any other family you would want to go to?” Bruce asked, just to be sure, but he wasn’t surprised when Danny shook his head and grabbed a pillow to hug.

“And I know Oracle and Red Robin will be itching to find out more about this ‘government agency’,” Tim said. “I want to go tell them Danny, if Bruce and I go will you be okay on your own or do you want me to ask Cas to come stay with you?”

“Cas please? If she’s not busy?” Danny asked uncertainly and Tim nodded. Bruce was getting up before Danny spoke up again. “I have a sister, Jazz. She knows about me not being fully human, but not about the babies. She’s a good person, and she’s almost an adult. I don’t know, I just need you to know she’s good, and I don’t want to mess things up for her,” Danny said worriedly.

“Of course Danny, thanks for letting me know,” Bruce said with a smile already making plans to get her out as well. “We’ll let you know as soon as there are developments.” He promised before both he and Tim ducked out. They split up, Tim going to find Cas and ask her to go back to Danny before they reconvened in the bat cave, they had a lot of research to do.

next>

[egcdeath]

life's a beach

pairing: patrick zweig x reader request: @diorrfairy: i can't stop thinking about patrick x reader who's an introvert, kinda shy but with a fiery temper just like him. and she knows it's better not to get involved with guys like him but she can't help it. and he's constantly teasing her trying to get on her nerves like … summary: a chain smoking tennis player disrupts your day on the beach and uproots your entire summer vacation. word count: 6.5k warnings: enemies to lovers (kinda… the reader folds like a paper airplane pretty quickly), smoking, no use of y/n, low speed police (pool security guard) chase, mentions of smoking, brief mention of alcohol, so much exposition, vague descriptions of sports, some kissing, patrick and reader are spoiled rich kids author’s note: this fic definitely got away from me, but i hope that you all enjoy it! also, i apologize in advance for any characterization issues, since i’ve only seen the movie once. with that being said, i’m still taking requests if you want to send me anything!

For all your life, the beach has been your happy place. The soothing, repetitive push and pull of the water and the endless crashing of the tide was a guaranteed way to make your loud mind quiet down. Next to the endless ocean, you were just a tiny little dot–not a girl who was a golf prodigy, or someone whose parents' financial power caused everyone around you to treat you like a delicate doll. In fact, that was part of the reason why your parents purchased the lot in the first place, as you insisted that the comfort of a semi-private beach was necessary for you to properly enjoy your vacation.

That was also what made your smoking companion on the beach all the more jarring.

You were fully reclined on a beach chair and deeply immersed in the novel in your hands when you first caught a whiff of the strong, putrid scent, which immediately left you annoyed. Turning your head to follow the scent, your face somehow fell further when it fell upon the culprit of the foul cigarette smell. The side profile of a man who was about your age, casually smoking as he stared out at the body of water across from you.

Perhaps you had become so immersed in your book that you’d failed to realize that only a few steps away from you, someone new had joined you on the sand. After all, when you sat down just an hour ago, you were completely alone. Somehow, that managed to make your mood sour even more. There was all this space on the beach, yet this man decided to sit down right next to you and smoke a cigarette!

You were sure that you were gawking at him at this point, if at nothing else, his sheer audacity. When he finally seemed to sense your seething gaze, you quickly looked back at your book as if it was the most interesting thing in the world—despite you completely losing your spot.

After a moment of pretending to resume your reading, the stale scent of the cigarette had lessened, indicating to you that the man next to you had finally stopped. Good. Maybe your simple glare had been more effective than you realized.

But nearly as soon as a self-satisfied smirk could find itself on your face, the scent returned in full force. You practically had to physically restrain yourself from uttering, “Seriously?” aloud.

Seeing as your first passive aggressive attempt at getting him to stop was futile, you decided to pull out the big guns.

With your all but abandoned novel in hand, you curled your unoccupied arm around your mouth and began to cough profusely. You put all your might into pulling out the most atrocious sounds you could muster from your lungs, and when you decided you were satisfied with this passive aggressive approach, you glanced over at your beach companion, only to find him looking back at you.

With him looking straight at you, you felt your stomach trip over itself. You’d always been a sucker for pretty men, and with one pointed look, you were sure that this would be no different. Yet, armed with the knowledge that you were the one who started this, you willed yourself not to give in to someone with good looks and cigarette breath.

You continued to stare him down, hoping that you were coming off as intimidating, rather than swooning. Though, the longer the two of you glared at each other, you swore you could see his lips mold into the look of a smirk, particularly as he took a pointedly long drag from his cigarette.

It quickly became abundantly clear to you that he wasn’t interpreting your gaze to be anything near threatening—if anything, he saw it as a challenge. Unluckily for him, you were incapable of backing down to a challenge.

As soon as you opened your mouth to form some sort of sassy remark, you were surprisingly beaten to the punch.

“Want one?” he asked, the smirk unwavering on his stupidly attractive face.

“Ew,” you replied, then immediately regretted it. Seriously? Ew? That was the best that you could do? You would think that years of dodging and delivering verbal daggers over family dinner would’ve better prepared you for this moment, but leave it to you to be tripped up by a pretty face.

You paused for a beat too long before retorting, “You can keep your lung disease, thank you very much.” You readjusted the book in your lap, still not feeling completely satisfied with your reply, but anything was better than your first statement. “Maybe go smoke somewhere that’s not right next to me, like,” you paused to gesture to the widely empty beach. “Literally anywhere else.”

“I didn’t realize that you were queen of this strip of beach. My apologies, Your Highness,” he shot back snarkily. You swore you could feel your blood boiling as it pumped through your veins.

“I’m not saying you can’t stay here,” you could feel your volume increasing as more adrenaline pumped through you, “I’m just asking that you don’t smoke.”

You watched as his brows raised questioningly the longer you spoke. “Or at least, don’t smoke next to me,” you clarified, folding under the pressure of a set of rather piercing blue eyes.

“Fine,” he agreed with a shrug, to your surprise. That hadn’t been so hard after all. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. You bit back the part of you that wanted to feel triumphant at your clear victory over this random, pain-in-the-ass man.

Once more, you pretended to read your book while in your peripheral vision you watched him grab his few items, including his box of cigarettes, and stand up to move. What you weren’t expecting to see was him plant himself just a few feet further from you, sit down, then begin to aggressively tap his box of cigarettes, just loud enough to grab your attention. Naively believing that he wouldn’t actually have the audacity to begin smoking again, you were slightly scandalized when he pulled a stick out and returned to happily chain smoking.

He briefly glanced back over at you, the smug look on his face telling you that he was eagerly awaiting your reaction. As much as you didn’t want to humor him, you clearly couldn’t hide your annoyance.

“Oh my god,” you huffed, grabbing your tote bag and towel and standing up to head back towards your beach house. Maybe the beach just wasn’t in the cards for today. At least that man couldn’t bother you in your sunroom.

——————

One of the benefits of owning and spending your summer at your vacation home was being able to have your friends stop by and spend a few days with you. Seeing as your parents were utterly uninterested in spending any of your summer break together, it was also nice that you were basically able to do whatever you wanted over the summer.

As a teenager, this mainly meant parties and intense summer flings, but as your time in college began to mature you and your friends, the novelty of doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing began to wear off. What never seemed to wear off was your love for the local ice cream shop, with its sweet dairy scent lingering in the air and a waffle cone that was nothing short of to die for.

With one of your friends’ visits coming to an end, the two of you sat on the patio of this shop, racing against time and heat as you worked on your cones. In between gossip about which one of your classmates had to attend graduation with a baby bump, you caught your eye on someone exiting the shop to join you on the patio.

You practically had to hold back your groan as you processed who it was. Unfortunately, your enemy from the beach hadn’t felt nearly enough shame, and he openly waved at you.

Upon seeing your eyes wander, your friend turned around to see what it was that caught your eye. Just as quickly as she turned around to view the asshole, she turned right back to you with a newfound excitement.

“Oh my god, you know him?” your friend asked you, shock and elation written all over her face for a reason you couldn’t understand.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, taking a bite of a bit of exposed cone. “Do you know him? Did he go to your high school or something?”

She scoffed at your words as if you were missing the most obvious point in the world. “‘Did he go to my high school or something?’” she repeated in disbelief. “That’s Patrick Zweig. He’s about to go pro.”

You tilted your head and furrowed your brows, as if to ask for more context.

“In tennis? He’s like, the thing right now,” she explained.

“Maybe that’s why he’s such an asshole,” you glanced back over at him, only to find that he was unabashedly staring at you as he licked his own cone of ice cream. If you hadn’t had such a ridiculous encounter a week ago, you would’ve thought that he was being suggestive towards you.

“What happened that made him such an asshole?” she prodded, and you swore that she leaned forward as she asked.

“Please try to look a little less excited,” you laughed, entertained by your friend’s investment in your story about someone who was a celebrity in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she apologized disingenuously. “Go ahead.”

“Well, I was just trying to do some reading out on the beach, when he sat like, two feet away from me. Mind you, the entire beach was empty. He could’ve gone anywhere else.”

“Dick,” she interjected, though the unsubtle glance over in Patrick’s direction and her overzealous body language suggested to you that she might’ve meant the words less than she thought she did.

“Right,” you agreed. “But that clearly wasn’t enough. So he starts chain smoking. Right next to me.”

“Rude,” she added, doing her best to validate you as you told the story. Her ability to only add commentary in a monosyllabic manner was entertaining you, but you couldn’t focus too much on that now.

“So I called him out. I was like, ‘Hey, you dick. I know that you want black lung, but not everyone else does,’” you explained, embellishing your story to disguise your lackluster responses.

She giggled as you explained and you continued on. “Obviously, he was embarrassed that I called him out. So he looks me right in the eyes, and-“

“And what?” she asked, her eyes practically glimmering, as if you were about to tell her a story about some wild tryst that left you with a negative impression of him.

“Babe, I don’t think this story ends the way you think it does.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a shrug and a wink.

“Well, he got his ass up and started walking away. Internally, I’m celebrating. But then, he sits down pretty close to me… and starts smoking again. And he’s staring me down the whole time he does it.”

“Ugh! He is an asshole,” she shook her head as you wrapped up your story. “But like, isn’t he kinda…?”

“He could be the sexiest man alive and couldn’t seduce me with that personality,” you replied confidently, although you weren’t completely sure of your words.

“That’s certainly not stopping him from trying,” she glanced over her shoulder once more, where he was still looking at you while very intently eating his ice cream cone.

“Gross,” you replied, feigning a full-body shudder. “You couldn’t even pay me to go anywhere near him.”

“It’s probably for the best anyway. A friend of my friend said there was some super messy relationship drama with him recently.”

“Lovely,” you replied, trying your best to look and sound disinterested, but feeling curious regardless. “I feel bad for whoever has to spend any extended period of time with him,” you popped the bottom of your ice cream cone into your mouth, then crushed a paper towel in your hand. “Wanna head out?”

——————

After that, you truly tried your best to avoid Patrick. Like clockwork, he seemed to appear on the beach in your backyard during the late afternoon. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you had watched him through the windows of your bedroom more than a handful of times, and you could almost swear that his head was on a swivel, as if he were looking for someone before he settled into his spot.

Unfortunately for you, it felt like he seemed to pop up wherever you were. As you evaluated boxes of strawberries at the grocery store, you noticed him eyeing bunches of bananas not all that far away from you. Midway through a hike, you noticed a familiar set of distractingly muscular thighs and tried your best to hide, much to your friend’s confusion. While drinking a fruity cocktail at a bar, you noticed him and finished off your drink and threw down a bill at record speed.

You guessed that you never realized how small a town was until you were actively attempting to avoid someone. In a way, it was a little bit exciting to be dodging him so vehemently, though you’d never really admit that to yourself. At least, it was exciting until it became an utter annoyance, much like it was becoming at that very moment.

After you’d decided that you’d spent enough of your summer lounging around without practicing any golf, you decided to take it upon yourself to head to your local country club and take on the familiar course. Of course, you couldn’t play any golf without fueling up first, which left you in the restaurant of the club snacking on a cup of fries when you spotted the one person you had been trying desperately to dodge.

You averted your gaze down to your phone and acted as if you were reading the most interesting thing in the world, but not even that farce lasted long, as you were met with the sound of a chair scratching the floor across from you. You looked back up and were met with Patrick’s intense, searing stare.

“Are you following me, or something?” he asked, his brows furrowed at you as he looked at you with concern.

“What?!” you asked with disbelief. “You’re the one who keeps showing up around me and keeps licking ice cream seductively at me!”

“Seductively?” he laughed right in your face, and you could feel your face immediately warm up in embarrassment.

“Shut up,” you replied weakly, though you knew what you saw. “Who even are you?” you asked, despite now having the displeasure of knowing exactly who he was, thanks to your friend and a Google search.

He began to smirk, and it took everything in you to not want to wipe that smug smile right off of his face. “I’m Patrick, and you are?”

You introduced yourself while mentally berating yourself for the butterflies erupting in your stomach over his intent gaze. Unfortunately, Patrick was even better looking than you could’ve imagined up close, with sunkissed skin and freckles that seemed to go on for miles.

“Well if you’re not stalking me, what are you doing here?” he questioned, though it was clear from his crooked, goofy smile that he wasn’t being serious.

“I play golf,” you explained with a casual shrug, though the feelings you were having inside were far from casual. “So I’m here to do that. You?”

“I knew I’d heard that name before,” Patrick began before stealing a french fry from you and popping it into his mouth. “You won a championship recently?”

You nodded with what you hoped was a neutral expression on your face, hoping to brush him off despite the fireworks going off in your stomach and the heat returning to your face. Sure, it wasn’t the first time someone had recognized you for your accomplishments out on the golf course, but it felt different coming from him.

“I did,” you replied as casually as possible, not acknowledging his fry thievery or reciprocating your knowledge of his athletic achievements. It was always better to be more mysterious with the type of person who seemed to love the chase, and it seemed clear to you that Patrick was one of those people. “Anyway, I need to go practice so I can win the next championship.”

You pushed your unfinished dish of fries towards him and stood up before grabbing the golf bag propped up next to your feet. You pushed your chair in and didn’t even spare him a glance back in his direction as you walked away, secretly hoping to yourself that he was still watching you as intensely as he’d been watching you at the table.

You tried your hardest not to ruminate over your conversation and feelings too much, but as you walked out to the first hole, you couldn’t help but over analyze everything. The first and most confusing of which being your feelings towards Patrick. Clearly, you were attracted to him. Despite your terrible first impressions of each other and having what could arguably be described as a meet-ugly, you couldn’t pretend like his good looks and charming, yet cocky demeanor didn’t have an effect on you. It was clear from the way that the butterflies in your stomach decided to stop lying dormant every time he was in your vicinity.

What you still couldn’t quite place were his feelings towards you. It was obvious that he was getting some kick out of teasing you. Hell, it was obvious from the first interaction you had with him. And it seemed like he might be interested in you, based on the way he seemed to be magnetically drawn to you, and his less than appropriate treatment of his ice cream cone, which he could deny all he wanted, was definitely a shoddy attempt at flirting. Even your friend had noticed.

Just as you began to try to make sense of your previous interaction, you looked up to find a golf cart headed your way. The cart was manned by none other than the subject of your deep thoughts, and as Patrick got closer to you, you swore you could see a fiery excitement ignited in his body.

“Play with me?” Patrick asked once he parked, despite already being off the vehicle and reaching for his rented golf bag.

You paused for a moment, as if you were considering his proposition, despite you already knowing your answer. “As long as you don’t mind getting your ass whooped.”

You made sure to deliver on this promise, beating Patrick with ease. In a way, it felt like comeuppance for him being a nuisance towards you just a few weeks ago. But that didn’t mean your mini tournament was without its downsides for you. You tried desperately to fight the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl when he said something stupid and snarky, and to quiet your screaming brain during the many, many, times you corrected his stance.

What you were also surprised to find was that Patrick wasn’t all that terrible of company to keep. He seemed to know exactly what to say to make you laugh, despite your effort to be unimpressed with him, or how to throw you off right before you swung at a ball. More than once, you had to remind him that no amount of teasing would change the fact that he had a terrible score, but it certainly didn’t stop him from trying.

With your landslide victory clear and your game over, the two of you made your way back to the rental station.

“You definitely cheated,” Patrick commented as he put his equipment back.

“You’re such a sore loser,” you replied with a roll of your eyes and a laugh. You’d been doing a lot of eye rolling and laughing while playing golf with him, and it was oddly quite pleasant.

“I’m not!” he insisted, turning back to face you as if that would somehow prove his point.

“You are, though! You’re a dirty player, too. I don’t think anyone has ever come up behind me and yelled for me to focus before.”

“Whatever,” he dismissed you casually, “You would be eating your words right now if we were playing tennis.”

“Yeah?” you questioned with raised brows.

“Yeah,” he parroted back, taking a step towards you and locking that intense gaze on you once more.

Feeling bold, you matched his step forward, practically getting in his face. “Fine then. Let’s play.”

“Really?” he sounded shocked by your proposition, and looked utterly unintimidated by the fact that your faces were practically touching.

“Sure. There are some courts over by the pool,” you turned to look in the direction of the pool, taking that as an opportunity to step away from him. You feared what you might do if you stayed that close to him for any longer than you needed to. “Isn’t that what you came here to do anyway?”

“So you are stalking me?” he joked, referencing your earlier conversation.

You rolled your eyes once more. At this rate, your eyes were going to be stuck at the back of your head. “Do you want to play or not?”

If you were a beast on the golf course, Patrick was a sight to behold on the tennis court. The brief article you read online simply did not do the man across from you justice as he served balls at you that probably would have wiped your head clean off of your body if you had any slower reflexes.

While you were able to get a few good hits in, courtesy of the lessons your parents put you in before they realized that golf was your calling, none of them remotely compared to the man across the court.

But your embarrassing loss was rewarded by hearing the repetitive loop of grunts and groans from your competitor. It was somewhat of a miracle that you were able to keep it together without bursting out laughing or squeezing your thighs together. You were also handsomely rewarded by seeing those muscular thighs in action. To be completely frank, there were more than a few moments where you lost momentum due to distraction from Patrick’s good looks.

While Patrick had proved himself to be a sore loser while playing golf, he wasn’t a terrible winner. He only gloated about crushing you once the two of you had finished playing, but he did happen to revel in his win for the entire walk from the tennis courts to the locker rooms.

Surprisingly, you weren’t that annoyed by him. In fact, you were pretty sure that you were hovering around the feeling of endearment.

You sat out in the lobby, freshly showered and playing on your phone when a familiar presence joined you once more.

“Are you hungry?” Patrick asked you as he made himself right at home and sat down across from you.

Was he about to ask you out on a date?

“I could eat,” you replied, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach once more.

“Let’s get dinner, then,” he suggested, and you tried your best not to look too excited. He was asking you out on a date. What an unexpected turn of events.

“Sure. There’s a place just up the street if you want to walk?”

The diner was slightly further than you remembered it being, but the time passed by quickly as the two of you divulged stories of your sports accomplishments on your trek over. Over dinner, the two of you instantly bonded over a similar upbringing of wealthy parents who couldn’t really be bothered to raise you, and backgrounds in boarding schools that prioritized your athletic skills over anything else.

After spending way too long at your booth and working through a spread of food that would send a shiver down your coaches’ spines, your waiter finally stopped by your table with an exhausted look on their face.

“One check or two?” they asked you.

“One,” Patrick replied before you had the chance to pipe up. The waiter turned around without inquiring anything more, clearly tired of having to serve the two of you.

“Wow,” you said with a giggle. “Chivalry is not dead.”

“I’m single-handedly keeping it alive,” he joked right along with you.

Feeling emboldened by your day of camaraderie and teasing each other, you decided to ask something. “Does that make this count as a date, then?” you asked it as a joke, though you were genuinely curious about the answer. While you’d previously found yourself intrigued with his looks, you’d now learned that he was far more than that. It was safe to say that you’d developed a full-blown crush over the span of the day.

“Do you want it to count as one?” he asked almost earnestly, and despite the fact that you were sitting, you swore you felt your knees go weak.

You shrugged nonchalantly, but the grin on your face was anything but. Fortunately, he was wearing a matching grin, and you almost swore there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks. You buckled under his gaze, and looked down into your nearly empty cup of water. “Sure.”

“Then it’s a date,” he confirmed.

“It’s so hot,” you huffed as the two of you stepped outside and into the humid night.

“Wanna cool off at the pool?” he suggested after holding the door open for you.

“Wow, you just don’t want this date to end, huh?” you teased. “The pool is definitely closed by now.”

“So?” he replied.

“So you want to break in?”

“Why not?” he shot back.

You stared at him for a moment with a mostly blank expression.

“You’re such a bad influence. Let’s go,” you conceded, heading in the direction of the city’s pool.

Once the two of you arrived at the locked gate, you stood expectantly, waiting for the next part of Patrick’s plan. You didn’t have to wait for too long, as with a brief confirmation that you were ready, he hoisted you up and over the fence. You then watched as he flung his own body over the fence, and you bit your lip as you attempted to distract yourself from how that image made you feel.

With both of you on the correct side of the fence, you took it upon yourself to shuck off your clothes—save for your underwear–before you dipped your toe in the cold water.

“How’s the water?” Patrick asked as he approached you, taking his shirt and shorts off in the process. You tried your best not to ogle too much, but his six-pack was definitely staring at you. Yeah, you were definitely ogling, and he was definitely noticing.

“You tell me,” you replied, then pushed him into the pool without really thinking. You probably wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t just been caught looking at the man like he was a piece of meat, but you had been doing exactly that, and panicked.

After a moment, he resurfaced and spat out the water that he’d swallowed from your surprise movement. Yet, as he came back to the surface, he didn’t say anything to you.

You eyed him nervously while he began to approach you in the water, and you opened up your mouth to apologize just as you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. With a yelp, you were dragged down into the water, luckily dodging the ledge on your way down.

Coming back up, spat out the chlorinated water and coughed out what you’d swallowed. “I deserved that.”

“You definitely did,” he agreed, lightly splashing you with water from where he stood.

You splashed him right back, putting a little more effort in and splashing him with slightly more force. “But you also deserved that.”

“And why is that?” that overconfident look appeared on his face once more. Just twenty-four hours ago, if you’d seen that look, you’d probably want to knock it right off of him. Now, you were tempted to keep prodding.

“Because you were being a dick about smoking not that long ago,” you replied, getting a little closer to him and matching his look with your own confident gaze.

“Huh,” he hummed. “Fair enough.”

“So why’d you do it?”

“Who knows. Maybe I just really wanted a smoke. Maybe I wanted to catch the attention of the cute girl on the beach.”

“Shut up,” you replied with clear disbelief. “I like how you try to flatter your way out of every sticky situation.”

“I mean it.”

“So you thought annoying me was the best way to get my attention?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“What if I was allergic to cigarette smoke?”

“You weren’t.”

“What if I just didn’t react, then?”

“You did,” he said.

“Must’ve been fate,” you replied dryly.

“Must’ve,” he agreed earnestly. Immediately, you felt a tension in your chest, and you wondered if he felt the same way. You didn’t have a witty or sarcastic comeback, and his face was dangerously close to yours.

Unsure of what to do, you splashed him once more.

“What was that one for?”

For making me fall for you in the span of a day, you idiot.

You shrugged, unable to come up with a coherent answer with you realizing just how physically close the two of you were. Now that you were beginning to have a bit of clarity, you could hear the pounding of your heartbeat in your eardrums. Or maybe it was Patrick’s. With your bodies this close to each other, you couldn’t be too sure.

You wondered what was going through his mind, but if the quick glance to your lips and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he gulped was any indication of his thoughts, you were sure you were on the same page.

You found yourself in somewhat of a standoff as the two of you stood there, wordless and hearts pounding as you stood together in a freezing cold pool. You shut your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them, Patrick’s nose was practically pressing against yours. But just as you began to follow his lead, you were met with a blindingly bright flashlight.

“Hey!” a new voice yelled out, pulling the two of you out of your trance. “What’s going on here?”

Patrick’s eyes widened and you were sure yours did too.

“Shit, security,” you muttered to yourself as it occurred to you what was happening. The two of you immediately scurried to the side of the pool. “I don’t think they saw us, but they definitely heard us,” you whispered.

“Do you think you could outrun them?” he asked, matching your low tone as the light of the flashlight moved across the pool without

“What?”

“Come on,” he hoisted himself out of the pool and you did the same, trying your best to be quiet as the two of you grabbed your discarded clothes.

“Patrick…” you trailed off, glued to his side.

“Come on,” he repeated as he shepherded you to the fence. “I won’t let them get you. Now,” he gestured for you to come over so he could help you climb over again, and you did. As he climbed over, the security guard’s flashlight had finally caught up with the two of you.

“Hey!” the guard repeated, lunging in your direction just as Patrick made it over.

“Run!” you yelled at him as the two of you took off. All of that tennis training clearly paid off, as he was far faster than both you and the security guard.

“Get back here!” the guard shouted as he chased the two of you.

The two of you sprinted, your bare feet screaming at you as pebbles and sticks poked your soles. Running on pure adrenaline, you swore you could hear Patrick laughing as he ran ahead of you.

The two of you ended up by his car, parked safely at the country club. You desperately tried to catch your breath as you leaned against his car door, now completely sure that you’d lost the security guard who was chasing you.

“I hate you so much,” you got out in between panting heavily.

“No you don’t,” his chest rose and fell quickly as he corrected you.

“No I don’t,” you confirmed, taking satisfaction in hearing his heavy breaths next to you and knowing that you weren’t the only one affected by the chase.

It felt as if the two of you had been transported right back into the moment you were having in the pool, a heavy, undeniable tension settling over the two of you, with the adrenaline of the chase and your hearts still rapidly pumping blood from all that running. It was almost as if one second you were standing next to each other, and the next you were pinned up against his car door, kissing like your lives depended on it.

With one of his hands up your shirt, you somehow found the willpower to use the logical part of your brain. “Wait, stop,” you reluctantly said as you pulled away for air. “I don’t want another security guard chasing us.”

“They won’t,” Patrick insisted before leaning back in to kiss you.

“They will,” you disagreed, exerting all of your willpower to dodge his advance. “Take me home?”

Patrick’s hand sat securely on your thigh for the entire ride back to the beach house. With the tension between the two of you crackling and the excitement of successfully running away beginning to die down, the two of you were mostly quiet on your way over.

After he pulled into your driveway, he looked over at you with hesitance. If you didn’t know any better, you might even say that he looked a little nervous.

“Wanna come inside?” you broke the ice, knowing that was what he was surely thinking about, and just as you predicted, he seemed to light up at your invitation.

The heat of the moment seemed to have passed, with the two of you now safely in your home, and not coming off the heels of being chased down the street. Patrick sat on your living room couch while you poured two tumblers of a criminally expensive whiskey.

You returned to the living room and sat down on the far end of the couch, passing him one of the cups before extending your legs out. You were pleasantly surprised when he positioned your legs over his lap and began to soothingly rub up and down your calves.

“What a day,” you sighed, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled in response.

As you laid there, you realized that you were actually quite exhausted. A silence settled over you once more as you yawned, then Patrick yawned not too long after you.

“You know, you’re nothing like I expected you to be,” he said randomly.

“Oh?” you replied questioningly. “Should I be offended or flattered?”

“Up for interpretation,” he looked over to you to gauge your reaction, and you playfully pushed his thigh with your foot.

“Then I’m gonna interpret it in a good way.”

“I meant it in a good way,” he said after a beat.

You smiled softly as you peered at him. “I didn’t expect you to be like this, either. I actually had a lot of fun beating you in golf and running from security guards.”

“No way you’re still talking about golf after I absolutely demolished you in tennis,” he laughed, a sound that you’d grown rather fond of throughout the day.

“It was pretty amazing watching you play golf with such bad form. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone use that many strokes on that course.”

“You wanna talk about bad form?” Patrick laughed again. “It’s a miracle you didn’t pull something when we played tennis.”

“Hey! My form is not that bad. You know I was in tennis lessons as a kid, right?”

“And how long ago was that?” he probed, looking at you with a suspicious raise of a brow.

You tried your best to do some mental math, but you were far too tired to be precise. “I mean, it was a while ago…?”

“Clearly,” he shook his head.

“Rude,” you replied, though your tone carried across you not really caring. “I’m still here for a few more weeks. Maybe you could teach me.”

“Only if you teach me how to get better at golf. I’m gonna have to impress my fellow board members someday.”

“Deal,” you agreed. Part of you wanted to leap for joy after establishing that this wasn’t some sort of one-and-done thing, and that you could at least see Patrick until you went back home.

You watched as he leaned further against the couch and tilted his head against the cushioned back of the piece of furniture, his eyes fluttering shut as he did so.

“Want to go sleep on a real bed? The guest room is clean,” you offered.

“No, I’m comfortable here,” he yawned and patted your calf. You didn’t believe him in this slightest, with his long limbs and less than ideal sleeping position. But you were quite comfortable, so you didn’t bother with insisting he leave the couch.

In the morning, you woke up in the same position that you’d fallen asleep in, with your legs draped over Patrick’s lap as he sat up and snored.

You did your best not to disturb him as you got up and went about your morning routine, taking a shower and changing into something comfortable before heading back downstairs. You were surprised to find Patrick somehow still upright and asleep on your couch, but you didn’t question it too much. It had been a long day and night.

You brewed some coffee in the kitchen, making sure to leave a portion for your guest, before you grabbed the book you’d been reading and headed out to sit on your portion of the beach.

You’d lost track of time while sitting out there, listening to the sound of the ocean and getting caught up in the contents of your book. In fact, you’d gotten so lost in your book, that you hadn’t even noticed that you’d gained a presence on the beach.

After Patrick cleared his throat, you turned to look at him. A smile grew on your face as the two of you locked eyes, and you scooted to the left on your oversized beach chair. Surely, there was enough space for both of you.

He took your invitation and sat down next to you, glancing between you and the ocean as he settled in. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and occasionally peered down at your book, but otherwise didn’t bother you. The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, your chests rising and falling in sync with each other as the two of you lost track of time.

Maybe Patrick wasn’t such a terrible beach companion after all.