#I think he wouldn’t mind Clark being one though

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Candidates for worst who-is-Batman theories that Bruce has had to read and/or hear with his own two eyes and ears:

Hal Jordan

Lex Luthor

Oliver Queen

[orchidniins]

Cupid Clarkey | Chris Dixon

Summary: George Clarke plays matchmaker for his best friend and his flatmate. Pairing: ChrisMD x f!Reader, Best Friend!George Clarke Warning: Fluff Word count: 9.3k+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! The timeline in the fic sorta jumps forward quickly (just don't think about it too much😗 ). This is my longest fic ever and I would really appreciate feedback on it! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can you get off my Hinge already, Y/N?” George's annoyed voice cut through the blaring music of the pub as he tried (and failed) to snatch his phone out of your hand.

“I'm trying to find you a girlfriend, Georgie,” you retorted, laughing as you dodged his attempts.

You were currently squished into a booth in the pub, sitting next to George, both of you a few drinks in (though you were definitely more drunk than him), swiping away on his Hinge profile and bickering like you two used to back in uni.

Having just moved to London a few weeks ago, tonight was a reunion of sorts. You were meeting up with George and a bunch of other friends from your uni days.

You and him had met in the first week of school, initially sitting next to each other in class, which turned into late-night study sessions and eventually blossomed into a close friendship.

George rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re any better at this than I am.”

“Better at what? Being single or being hopeless at dating?” you shot back, smirking.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and looked back at him. “And how long has it been since you’ve been laid?” you teased, swiping left on yet another profile.

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I get action,” George shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh please, the only action you’ve seen is from your right hand,” you said, laughing at him.

“Well, that’s a lot coming from you,” George countered. “You haven’t dated since that prick from uni.”

“I actually enjoy being single,” you said, shrugging. “All you do is cry about it. You always say you want a girlfriend, but you turn down every girl that approaches you.”

George snorted. “Say that to the pint of ice cream you finished last week in under an hour while watching that chick movie and bawling your eyes out about wanting a boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, turning back to his phone. “Oh, you got a match! I’m gonna message her.”

“Absolutely not!” George exclaimed, finally managing to pry his phone out of your hands. “Maybe if you were a little less picky, you wouldn’t be single.”

You looked at him in shock and surprise. “Really? You’re gonna talk to me about being picky?”

“You say that, but you’re the one with the mile-long checklist, not everyone can be as perfect as me, Y/N.” George retorted, shaking his head.

“If you’re so perfect, then maybe we should just date, Georgie,” you said jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

The both of you went silent for a moment, staring blankly at each other. Then, simultaneously, you shuddered at the thought. “No!” you both said in unison, laughing.

“God, that’d be like dating my sister,” George said, acting outwardly disgusted at your joke.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making a face.

You two continue your bickering, the atmosphere in the pub buzzing with laughter and chatter from your group of friends. After a while, your friends scatter around the pub, leaving just you and George in the booth. Just as you're deep in banter, an unfamiliar voice interrupts you two.

“Hey man,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a man with blonde curly hair approaching your booth. George got up to greet him, and from where you’re sitting, it’s very obvious that he was quite drunk himself.

"Chris, mate, how drunk are you already?" George asked, as if he had read your mind, with a chuckle, clapping Chris on the back.

Chris laughed, his grin widening. "Chip's pub golf videos always destroy me," he replied, his words slightly slurred as he swayed a little.

Chris glanced over at you, his eyes momentarily focusing as he took in your presence. "Hope I’m not interrupting," he said teasingly, turning back to George, flashing a mischievous grin.

George chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, mate, you're good. Go get yourself a drink and join us." Chris headed off to the bar, and George sat back down.

Chris returned with his drink and slid into the booth, his easy smile and sparkling eyes catching your attention.

“So, who’s your friend?” Chris asked, nodding towards you with a playful grin.

“Y/N, this is Chris, the flatmate,” George introduced, gesturing between the two of you. “Chris, this is Y/N, the best friend.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” you greeted Chris warmly.

Chris grinned back at you. “George is wrong, you know. I’m the best friend.”

“No, you’re wrong. I've known him longer, so I am his only best friend,” you say, as you laugh at him.

“Don’t need to fight, guys,” George interjects, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“That’s just not right,” Chris replies, ignoring George. “I live with him. Do you know how much shit I put up with? Surely that makes me his best friend.”

You chuckle, “Okay…but have you had him shotgun a can an hour before a final, puke all over your bed, and then have to clean it up and make sure he gets to campus in time?”

Chris grins, “Alright, but have you had to deal with his shit love life? Or lack thereof? And like have had to listen to him complain all the time.”

You exasperatedly add, “Yeah! Actually, I have,” you say, nodding at Chris.

You turn to George. “Honestly, George mate, you're a mess. I don’t even want to be your best friend anymore.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

George looks between the two of you, bewildered. “What the fuck is happening?”

You and Chris exchange a look. “Maybe we should become best friends and ditch George,” Chris suggests, winking at you.

“Guys, can we go back to both of you fighting over me?” George says, and you and Chris burst out laughing at him.

You find yourself feeling instantly drawn to Chris's charm. After a bit of small talk, you learn that Chris had been out for a shoot and decided to drop by the pub where George was once he finished. You had heard George talk about Chris before and all the antics they’d gotten up to, but you hadn’t paid much heed to it until now.

And as the night went on and you got increasingly drunker, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris. George already knew this about you; you always got increasingly flirty and bolder when you were drunk—a stark contrast to your sober self. 

Usually, George was always one of your victims, jokingly hitting on him to piss him off, and he also always had to keep you away from creepy men when you were drunk. But now, with Chris in the mix, George honestly did not know what to say at the scene in front of him.

(A/N: I have no game whatsoever. Even if I did pull in the past, I was so drunk that I genuinely don’t remember. I did my best I promise)

“You’re pretty cute for someone who’s friends with George,” you say to Chris, a playful smile on your lips as you take another sip of your cocktail.

Chris grins and leans in closer. “And you’re pretty hot for someone who hangs out with him.”

You laugh, inching closer to him and playfully touching his bicep. "I know, I'm just naturally irresistible," you tease, giving him a sly look that hints at something more.

Chris chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I believe it. If you weren’t George’s friend, I’d have made a move on you the second I walked in.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are just inches from his ear. “Who says you can’t make a move now?” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “Who knows, tonight might be your night.”

Chris’s breath hitches, his gaze darkening. “Is that so?” 

George groans. “You two are disgusting. Chris, stop hitting on her. Y/N get away from him!”

You brush off George, leaning even closer into Chris’s touch. “Ignore him, he’s no fun.” 

Chris says, "He's just jealous that I’ve got the attention of someone this beautiful," he murmurs back, his lips brushing lightly against your earlobe, his voice low and you hear George scoff in the back.

George rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t take any more of this. You two are unbearable.” He stands up, shaking his head. “I’m going to go close out our tab. You better be five feet apart when I get back.”

As George walks away, you and Chris are left alone, practically glued together at this point. “Looks like it’s just us now,” Chris murmurs, his hand migrating to your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile coyly, leaning closer to him. “And what do you plan to do now that it’s just us?” you tease, your voice laced with playful anticipation.

Chris chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “When George told me about you, he didn’t mention how incredibly sexy you are. If I had to be around someone as gorgeous as you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a rush of desire. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of controlling yourself so far,” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Chris’s eyes darken with desire. “Who says I’m trying to control myself?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, lips so close that they are almost touching.

Before things could escalate further between you and Chris, George returned, breaking the intense moment. "Okay, I think it's time to get you two home," he announced.

Despite your protests, he manages to pull you off of Chris. As you stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit you, causing you to stumble. George quickly steadied you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over.

Realizing it was late and knowing you were in no state to go home alone, George insisted you crash at his place, which was closer than yours and the three of you hailed a cab back to the boy’s flat. 

Once there, George quickly dumps Chris in his room, before he sets you up in his own bed. He offers you some of his clothes to change out of your outfit and he opts to sleep on the couch for the night.

As you drifted towards sleep, the alcohol slowly wearing off, you couldn't help but rethink the events of the night. All your actions start to blur now, though a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You knew there would be consequences to face in the morning, but for now your body needed sleep.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, the hazy memories of the previous night lingering in your mind. As the realization of your interaction with Chris sets in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You stumble out of George’s bed, groaning softly as your head throbs. Dressed in George's oversized clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, clutching your head, desperately in need of coffee.

As you enter, you freeze at the sight of Chris, who’s already there, shuffling around in the kitchen.

He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled and the hangover evident on his face. You catch a glimpse of his abs when he reaches up to a cupboard, and despite your headache, you can’t help but stare for a moment, your brain going to dangerous places.

Chris turns around and spots you, offering a weak smile. You look away slightly embarrassed, fearing that you were caught staring. “Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse as he clears his throat.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to muster a smile despite the awkward tension that has settled into the air.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as you both avoid each other’s eyes, the memory of your flirtatious behavior lingering between you. Chris pours himself a glass of water, and you take the opportunity to grab a mug for coffee, hoping the caffeine will help clear your head. “Do you want a cup as well?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Huh? No, thanks,” he responds, clearly drawing himself out of wherever he had zoned out to for a minute.

“So, uh,” Chris begins hesitantly, stopping for a moment when you both hear George stirring on the couch. Chris gestures toward the balcony, and you grab your coffee and follow him outside. Once you two are there, you lean against the railing, both of you awkward, neither knowing what to say.

Chris is the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “…last night…was something...I guess we were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “Pretty drunk.”

He chuckles nervously. “I don’t usually… you know, act like that.”

“Me neither,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It was just the alcohol, I guess.”

“Definitely,” he nods, relief evident in his expression. “We can just, uh, forget about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” you say a bit too quickly. But, you feel your heart drop a little, though you don’t know why. Him wanting to not acknowledge what happened yesterday (though it was nothing) makes you slightly upset, but you don’t let it show on your face. You bury your face in your coffee, avoiding his gaze.

It was insane how comfortable you two were around each other last night, and now the air was replaced with this heavy awkwardness that neither of you knew how to break. And the worst part is you couldn’t even remember all that you did yesterday (But you're sure George won't let you forget).

“So, um, any plans for today?” Chris asks, trying to make small talk and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, what? No, nothing. Just gonna get back to my place and crash,” you say, shaking your head. “You?” you ask him.

“Same,” he says. You nod in response, but neither of you knows how to continue. You both stand there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other, the awkwardness palpable.

“So I should go,” you say, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. Chris just nods, and you step back into the apartment, making a beeline for George’s room, just wanting to get out of there and back to your own space as quickly as possible.

All you can think is, what the hell is wrong with you? You weren’t usually like this with people…what is happening?

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After that day, George teased you endlessly about what happened with Chris. Each time, you brushed him off, ignoring his jabs, saying you didn’t want to talk about it or that you didn’t remember what happened, unwilling to revisit the embarrassing memories of that night.

You’d run into Chris a few times when you were over at the flat with George, but those interactions weren’t any better. Your interactions with Chris went from awkward to him just plain ignoring your presence now, and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Combined with how embarrassed you still felt about your actions, you decided it was better to just ignore him as well.

George would drop you knowing looks whenever that happened, but when he saw that you really didn’t want to talk about it, he eventually dropped the topic.

Until today, that was.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” you tell George, speaking with him over the phone.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a movie night with some friends,” George tries to persuade you.

“I don’t know, George. I’m just not in the mood,” you reply, feeling a mix of anxiety and reluctance.

George sighs, knowing exactly why you’re hesitant. “Look, I get that things are awkward between you and Chris. But avoiding each other isn’t going to make it any better. We’re all friends here. Just come over, watch a movie, and relax. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “I just... I feel so embarrassed about everything. I don’t want to make things weird.”

“See, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the both of you, but I can tell you’re overthinking it. Things are only as awkward as you make them. We’ll have a good time, I promise. And if it gets too much, you can always leave. Just give it a chance, yeah?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right. I’m just overthinking. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” George says, the excitement evident in his voice.

And that is how you found yourself sitting on the floor in George’s flat, leaning up against the couch with "The Hangover" playing on the TV.

You were bundled up in a blanket, surrounded by scattered cushions, with the smell of popcorn in the air. George was sitting on the couch just behind you, lazily flicking popcorn at your head, which you returned by swatting him on the knee.

“Seriously, George, you’re worse than a child,” you scolded, turning around to look at him as another popcorn kernel hit you on the forehead.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. You whacked him on the thigh this time, but he still threw another piece your way.

It was just George and the Arthurs for now. Despite your cold conversations with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed when George mentioned that Chris would be running late. Even with the weird energy between you two, you were kind of maybe hoping to see him today.

You were enjoying yourself, though. You’d met Arthur Hill a few times before and got along really well, and this was your first time meeting Mr. Television (as George liked to call him), and you were having a great time with the boys.

You pull your focus away from George and instead decide to just watch the movie when you hear the door open, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Chris walks in, dressed in dark cargos and a black sweatshirt, his curls messy from the day and it made him look a little rugged, and all you could think about was how good you thought he looked.

He swings his backpack onto the floor and starts taking off his coat, before he greeted everyone.

Your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly attractive he looked. Despite the cold vibes he had been giving you this whole time, you couldn’t deny your attraction towards him.

Outwardly, you were trying to be cool about it, but inwardly, you were itching to know why he was acting like this. You give him a tight-lipped smile as you make brief eye contact, but he quickly looks away, heading to his room.

George noticed the exchange and shook his head slightly. You shot him a look that said ‘stop it’, but you knew he’d bring this up later.

After a few minutes, Chris joins you all, settling on the floor next to you while the others remain on the couch. Other than the occasional instances where you pass him the popcorn, he avoids eye contact, but you can sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially when you and George bicker in loud whispers.

You reach for the coffee table, grabbing a can of seltzer, about to take a sip, only for George to snatch it out of your hand. “George!” you exclaim, swatting him on the arm before you wipe away the few drops of the drink that he managed to spill on your shirt.

You think you hear a chuckle from Chris, but when you turn to look in the direction of the sound, his eyes are glued to the TV.

After a bit, Chris gets up and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he silently hands you a drink. You take it with a small, surprised smile, touched by the sweet gesture even if things between you two are still a little awkward. "Thanks," you murmur.

He nods in response, his genuine smile making your heart flutter before his eyes flick away from yours, and you feel yourself melt.

As the credits roll on the third film, George nudges you and suddenly pulls you into his room.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Chris?” George asks bluntly, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. After that day at the pub, it’s been so weird. I don’t even know the guy, and I feel like he hates me or something. Is he like this with everyone he just meets?”

George frowns, looking apologetic. “Not really… Normally, you can’t get him to shut up.”

“I get such cold vibes from him,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice. “What did I do wrong?… Whatever, I don’t care, but its annoying.” You pause, then add with a small, reluctant smile, “It doesn’t help that every time I look at him, I drool.”

George responds, slightly shocked, “I—I’m sorry, what?”

You roll your eyes and say, “I’ve been single for so long that I’m even attracted to your shitty friend.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “He can get on your nerves, but he’s not that bad. But, he can be a little socially challenged around people he—”

George stops mid-sentence, seeming to have a moment of realization, his expression shifting. “Huh.”

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, disappearing out of the room before you can press further.

You stand there confused for a second before you return to the living room, where Arthur Hill and Arthur TV was tidying up. You decide to join them, looking around, wondering where George and Chris had suddenly disappeared to.

You help them gather the empty bottles and snack wrappers, making small talk. Just as you're finishing up, George and Chris reappear, both looking shady as hell, whispering to each other. 

You look at George, giving him a pointed look. "What was that about?" you whisper, nodding toward Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with the Arthurs, laughing about something.

George shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just guy talk."

You give him a look. "Tell me."

"Really, it was nothing," he insists.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. I need to get home anyway, it’s getting late."

George quickly checks the time on his phone. "It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you just sleep here?"

"I just wanna be back in my own bed. At midnight is not that late, and I barely live like a 15 min walk away," you explain to him.

"You can just as easily walk home in the morning," he says.

Before you can protest, he continues, "You know what, fine. But I don’t want you going home alone." He turns toward the kitchen and shouts, "Chris! Do you mind driving Y/N back home? I would do it myself…but can’t drive mate."

Chris whips around, looking between the two of you, clearly flustered at George’s request. "Uh, sure, no problem."

You quickly interject, "It's okay, I can get home on my own. I don’t want to trouble you."

Chris clears his throat. "It's no trouble," he assures you, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."

You grab your stuff and walk out the door with him. The ride down in the elevator is silent. You play with your nails, trying to avoid his gaze, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you. When you reach the car, Chris opens the door for you, and you thank him. "Thanks, Chris."

"Don’t thank me yet," he jokes as you both buckle up. "I’ve only had my UK license for a month now, so we’ll see how this goes."

You look at him, slightly alarmed. "Seriously? Get me out of the car."

He laughs, and you join in. "I know how to drive, I just haven’t driven much since I moved to London."

Some of the tension eases, and you both relax a bit. He hands you his phone. "Can you enter your address into the GPS?"

You do, and as he starts driving Chris glances at you, "So, why did you move to London?"

You smile, happy to have a conversation starter. "Work, mostly. And also ‘cause I have friends here.”

He nods. “So, you liking London so far?”

You nod, looking at him as you speak. “Yeah, I like it. But the city gets overwhelming sometimes. Sometimes I just wanna run back home.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Same, especially when I miss my family. And I get it, sometimes you need to get away from George.”

You chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Be honest with me… how have you not killed him yet?”

He laughs, responding, “I won’t lie, I’ve plotted his murder many a times.”

You both laugh, and the conversation continues, light-hearted and easy. For the first time in like a month, the conversation between you two feels natural. And before you know it, you’d reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the ride, Chris," you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No problem," he replies, his smile genuine. The air goes silent as you both stare at each other.

"Umm... goodnight," you say, quickly getting out of the car, feeling a tad bit awkward.

"Goodnight," he responds, and you gently close the door.

He waits until you're inside the building before driving off, and for the first time, you feel a warm, hopeful sensation in your chest and you can’t seem to wipe away the smile on your face the whole way up to your flat.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next day, you and George meet for dinner after you’re done with work. “I can’t believe he’s engaged”, you say as you move your food around on your plate, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why do you care?” George asks between bites of his burger. “You hated him by the end of your relationship.”

“I know, but why does someone like him get to be happy?” you sighed. “I’m just tired of being single. Why is it so hard to find someone half decent?”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” George says, trying to sound all philosophical.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

He shrugs, laughing as he says, “Maybe you should date Chris.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Chris? Really? Chris? We can barely hold a conversation!”

George smirks. “Didn’t you say you guys got along fine last night? And don’t get me started on drinks last month. And don’t lie to me…you think he’s hot,” he says, making a fake gag face.

“What? No, I don’t,” you protest. “I might be desperate, George, but not desperate enough to date your friends.”

“What’s wrong with dating one of my friends?” George mocks hurt.

“I was kinda hoping that once I got a boyfriend, I just wouldn’t have to see you anymore,” you joke.

George clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch!”

The drive with him the other day was fine, more than fine and he was kind of sweet actually. You laugh, but the thought of dating Chris stays on your mind, an idea that you might not be all that opposed to. -------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your conversation with George, and despite trying not to let it affect you too much, you couldn't deny still feeling on cloud nine after that drive with Chris (even if it was barely 10 minutes long).

You and Chris were now following each other on social media. You'd occasionally chat or reply to each other's stories, gradually warming up to each other. You found yourself craving more time alone with him, curious about what it would be like to get to know him better.

But right now, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend in, finally getting to that book you had been putting off for weeks now. With a cozy blanket wrapped around you and a hot cup of tea, you settle onto your couch, eager to dive into your book.

Just as you start to get lost in the pages, a notification pops up on your screen. You peek over at your phone and see a text message from George.

George: Hello best friend Y/N: What do you want? George: Wow. Warm welcome Y/N: Fine. Hiii Georgieeee….What do you want? George: So you know how you are the smartest, strongest person I know 🥺 Y/N: Just spit it out 🙄 George: Can you please come over and help me build that dresser I ordered for my room? Y/N: And there it is... George: So..?  Y/N: No, don’t want to. George: Pleaseeeeee….I’ll buy you food Y/N: No George: Come on, please 😩 Y/N: No….you’re gonna make me do all the work George: I won’t...and I’ll throw in dessert  Y/N: You’re impossible  George: 👀 Y/N: Fine….See you in 10  George: 🫡🙇

With a sigh, you set your book aside and started getting ready to head over to George's place. Not bothering to change out of your comfy sweats, you threw on a jacket and made your way out.

When you arrived at George's flat, you knocked on the door and waited. To your surprise, Chris answered, looking equally surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

“George asked me to come over, said he needed help building his dresser”, you explain, and Chris steps aside, letting you step inside.

Chris says, “Hmm, he asked me to help as well, after complaining for a straight 5 mins about not wanting to do it on his own.”

"That little bitch," you huffed, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

Y/N: Where the fuck are you!!??? George: Sorry emergency Y/N: What?  George: Please help a guy out Y/n: Why!? It’s your dresser! George: Chris will help Y/N: Wait George: Bye

You breathed out in frustration, realizing all too well what George was trying to do. Deep down, though, you were somewhat glad to have some time alone with Chris. Fingers crossed you'd be able to hold a conversation today.

You huffed and shoved your phone in your pocket, then turned to face Chris. "Yep, he's ditched us, the bastard," you said, looking back up at Chris who was watching you with an amused expression.

Chris chuckled, and you felt a bit self-conscious. "What?"

"The Powerpuff Girls?" he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips.

"What? I'm here to build furniture, not walk a red carpet," you replied, glancing down at your pajamas, trying to appear nonchalant but secretly cursing yourself for not dressing better. Chris just laughed, shaking his head.

“Great…it’s just the two of us." you said, catching Chris's attention as he looked at the unpacked table pieces that George had left for you.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "You act like it's a bad thing."

You chuckled, picking up a screwdriver. "Let's just survive this project together first."

"Survive? Geez…It's just an Ikea dresser," Chris teased, walking towards the scattered pieces.

"Yeah, but have you ever tried assembling furniture with George? He pulls everything out of the box, doesn’t organize anything by the way, then he just gives up and leaves you to figure stuff out," you vented, holding up a loose screw you found on the floor a good distance from the table for emphasis.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. Lucky for me you’re here to pick up the pieces," he joked lamely, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his attempt.

"Let’s just build this stupid thing," you said, walking towards the mess.

Chris chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, looking around for the instruction manual.

Chris sighed in frustration, looking through the jumbled pieces. "Damn, where did George put those instructions?"

"Knowing George, he probably already threw out the instructions with the outer box," you said, half-jokingly. You fear you might be right, shuffling through everything and not finding the booklet.

You sit on the ground and try to organize the pieces, placing everything into neat piles. Chris picked up a piece and moved to place it in what he thought was the right pile.

"No, not that one," you said, pointing to a different pile. "Put that there."

Chris chuckled. "You're a little type A, aren't you?"

You grinned. "That's not the insult you think it is." You laughed lightly, enjoying the banter.

The two of you get on with trying to put the piece of furniture together.

Chris was completely engrossed in screwing in the legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t help but notice how his features hardened with determination, and you find him extremely attractive in this moment.

"You're really into this," you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed him the next piece.

Chris glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "Of course. Gotta impress you with my handyman skills."

You chuckled, kneeling down to align a set of screws. "Impress me, huh? Well, if you can get through this without instructions, color me impressed."

“Prepare to be amazed, Y/N,” Chris replied with a grin, returning to his task.

Your eyes involuntarily lingered on his arms, noticing how his t-shirt hugged his muscles snugly. You found yourself imagining running your hands across his arms and over his chest, remembering how you felt that night when inhibitions were lower.

Chris's voice snapped you out of your daze. "Sorry, what was that?" you asked, needing him to repeat his words.

"No, I was just…" Chris paused for a moment, sitting on the floor, pausing the task at hand. He hesitated as he looked up at you.

"Go on, what is it?" you encouraged him, curious about his question.

He started cautiously, "I've always wondered, why did you and George never date?"

You laughed softly, surprised by the question. “George? I don’t know, it’s just something that never happened. I don't even think either of us ever even considered our relationship to go that way”

Chris gives you a skeptical look, "Really? Not even once?"

"Not even once," you confirmed, shaking your head. "George and I have always been more like siblings."

Chris nodded softly, as if processing your answer. "Good to know."

Though slightly taken aback by his reaction, you chose not to dwell on it for too long.

“How did your shoot go this week?” you ask him.

Chris perks up a little, clearly pleased by your interest. "Oh, it was great! But it did go a lot longer than usual. I'll blame that on Arthur and his terrible football skills. But the audience will never find out. I should probably pay my editors more for making him look somewhat competent at football."

You both laugh, and Chris continues to talk about YouTube and some of his ideas. You can't help but smile at how passionate and happy he sounds when he talks about his work.

After a while, you two pull yourselves out of the conversation and get back to finishing the dresser. 

"So, if you had to rate my IKEA furniture-building skills, what would you give me?" Chris asks, a playful grin on his face as the two of you now sit on the couch.

"Hmm," you ponder, pretending to be deep in thought. "Solid seven."

"Seven!?" Chris asks, feigning outrage, leaning in a little closer. "I thought I did pretty good."

"It would be higher, but you get distracted easily," you tell him, the space between you and Chris now barely a breath.

"Well, you were the one distracting me," Chris says, and you're taken aback by his comment. Your mouth falls slightly open, suddenly very aware of the proximity between you two.

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and George walks in, looking between the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Well, you two seem to be getting along well." You quickly get up from your place next to Chris.

You stare back blankly at George, arms crossed over your chest. "How was your... emergency?"

George's grin widens. "All sorted," he replies nonchalantly, before turning around to enter his room. "So which one of you is gonna help me move the dresser into my room?"

You and Chris exchange annoyed looks, then smile at each other, his smile exceedingly tugging at your heart, before you both scream, "Do it yourself!"

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few weeks, you and Chris had become friends, finding yourself spending time with him more often. You still couldn’t believe that just a few months ago you two couldn’t even look each other in the eye. 

However, it seemed like every time you made plans with George or any of his friends, Chris was always there, and you two would magically end up alone together. You didn't think much of it, knowing that as much as you loved George, you hated him meddling in your love life, and he knew that as well. So, there’s no way he was involved, right? (Or maybe, deep down, you hoped that all the time you’ve been able to spend with Chris was somewhat of a sign and not your nosy best friend getting involved.)

You were at George’s place yet again (where else could you be? You only had like two friends) and helping him clean out his closet, stuffing his old clothes into donation boxes.

Slyly, you asked, “Where are the rest of your flatmates?”

George replied, “You know…they’re around,” without making eye contact, his back turned to you.

“And Chris?” you asked, slightly hopeful.

George looked up at you, almost as if he was wishing that you hadn’t asked that question.

You caught his expression, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. “What’s wrong?”

George placed the T-shirt he was folding gently into the box before turning to look at you. “Okay, so don’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Before I tell you, know that I told him not to do it,” George started.

“George... speak,” you demanded, poking him in the chest.

“Chris is out on a date,” he finally said.

You feel your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach, “Oh, good for him.”

George looked at you, clearly noticing your attempt to hide your disappointment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you said, trying to brush it off and distract yourself by placing more clothes into the box.

“Y/N, come on. You really don’t think I know you better than you know yourself?” he looked at you matter-of-factly and you were struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m fine, George,” you tell him, trying to get him to drop the topic, but he only looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N. I know you like Chris”, he states and you feel your whole body freeze.

“What? No, I don’t,” you retorted, and honestly, even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N—”

“George—”

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and when he speaks, you hang on his every word,” he interrupts you.

“George, no... Chris and I, we’re just barely friends,” you try to explain to him.

“I know you two had a rocky start, well, a drunk and touchy start,” he teased, dodging the T-shirt you threw at him, “but you’ve grown closer over the past few months and I think you’re just in denial about your feelings. Plus you look like you wanna jump him every time you look at him.”

You sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute, thinking about what George had said. Yes, things were a little iffy at the start, but you had grown to like his company. He was funny, quite sweet, and in recent times, easy to talk to. Not to mention, every time you looked at the man, it was like your brain short-circuited at how hot he looked.

George carefully considered his words before continuing. “You’ve always been like this, Y/N…cautious.”

As his words sank in, it dawned on you.

“Holy fuck, George! I like Chris,” you exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. “How did this happen? I feel like I’ve gone insane. When did I become so blind to my own feelings?”

George watched you in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“But–-,” you sat up, turning to George who was now sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, “there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Eh?” George responded, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the guy is literally on a date right now,” you say, exasperated.

“So?”

“What do you mean, “So”? If he liked me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be going on dates,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Probably because he doesn’t know you like him. Just tell the guy,” he suggests, his face soft, laced with concern.

“I can’t do that,” you look at him, your voice coming out almost broken.

“Why?” George comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

You take a deep breath before you continue, “Because things just got somewhat good with him. We’re finally past that awkward phase and are friends now. I don’t want to go back to that cold phase when he ultimately rejects me.”

“He’s not gonna reject you, Y/N,” he says, throwing his arm around, pulling you into his side.

“How do you know?” you look up at him.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N, just tell the guy how you feel.” he says, as he pulls away from you so that you’re both now facing each other.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said, getting up off his bed and heading out of his bedroom.

“What, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, following you.

“Home,” you said, making a beeline for the door.

“Why?"

“So that I can go to bed and wake up and forget about all of this,” you said looking back at him, hand now on the door knob.

“Y/N…”

“Bye, George,” you said, before opening the main door and closing it behind you, confusion and uncertainty swirling in your head.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

“Here,” Arthur Hill handed you a drink, and you threw him a quick thanks, quickly gulping down the liquid. Arthur looked at you, concerned. The party was lively around you, the usual chaos of a house party at George’s place.

George had convinced you to come to the party, saying it’d be a good distraction, to get your mind off of things—things being Chris. 

George had promised you that Chris was busy tonight and wouldn’t be here, so you reluctantly agreed (though George had to beg a lot more than he was hoping he’d have to).

You had only arrived a few minutes ago, and you already wanted to leave. You just wanted the peace and quiet of your room to contemplate about your doomed love life and drown your sorrows in a pint of ice cream.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, pulling you out of your daze. “You look distracted.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a half-hearted smile and you were grateful that Arthur didn’t push any further.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink," you said, and Arthur nodded in response before you navigated through the crowd toward the kitchen.

You made yourself a drink, pouring whatever bottle of alcohol was closest to your reach into your cup, wanting something strong. If you couldn’t drown yourself in ice cream, alcohol would have to do. (Not your smartest idea, but oh well.)

You took a sip of your concoction, the liquid burning as it flowed down your throat. You turned around but just as you were about to head back to find Arthur, when you spotted him. Chris.

He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. How did he manage to get even hotter than the last time you’d seen him? (Honestly, it was torture.)

But there he was, talking to some girl you’d never seen before. The sight felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. All you wanted to do was leave. You placed your drink on the counter and set your sights straight at the door. In your haste, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings and bumped into someone. Looking up, you saw it was George.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" George asked, blocking your path.

"George, I need to leave," you said, trying to sidestep him.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but before you could answer, he glanced over your shoulder and saw Chris. “Oh, I see.”

“Just talk to him, Y/N,” he tried to persuade you. “Whatever the outcome, it’ll make you feel better.”

“George, are you crazy? I can’t” You looked up at him, and the vulnerable look in your eyes made his heart break.

“Fine, but please don’t leave. Just take a breather for a minute. You should at least stay and enjoy the party,” he insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “Just stay in my room for a bit. You can come back out after a while.”

You agreed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and turned towards his room. “Good,” he said, pushing you gently by the shoulders.

Once you were in his room, you turned to look at him. “Now stay put, I’ll be right back.” You nodded, and he headed back out of the room.

You took a seat on his bed, and before you knew it, you heard the door open. Expecting to see George, you froze when you found Chris instead.

“George, what are you doing?” Chris protested as George pushed him into the room. “Stop, bro!”

You got up and shout, “George! What the hell?”

“You two talk,” George said, pointing at both of you before quickly shutting the door. You heard the lock click.

You rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. “Bastard locked us in,” you said to Chris.

“George! Let me out!” you protested, banging on the door.

“Not until you two talk to each other,” George yelled back.

You turned to find Chris looking just as surprised as you. “Well, this is awkward,” Chris said, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I might be wrong...but I think George wants us to talk.”

You sighed, leaning against the door. “Yeah, he’s a lot of things… but subtle, he is not.”

Chris chuckled. “What gave it away?”

Your suspicions were right. That motherfucker had been playing you this whole time, getting Chris to drive you home, finding ways to get the two of you to spend time alone, locking you in his room. And you’d walked right into it. Idiot.

“That slimy little shithole,” you muttered to yourself.

You laughed out loud. “So George seems to think we would make a good match.”

“What?” Chris said, looking nervous.

“Did you not realize?” You looked at Chris, and he was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face.

“Well…” he started sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of knew.”

“What do you mean you knew, Chris?” you asked, confused.

“I mean, I knew George was trying to set us up, he sort of told me he would, that day that you were over at our place for movie night.” he admitted.

“I’m sorry…?” you ask him again, arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you were okay with it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris sighed. “I promise, I told him not to! And I just didn’t know how to bring it up..... But honestly, I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What? You liked spending time with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kind of liked you since the day we first met in the pub.”

“But that was months ago,” you said, incredulous. “Why didn't you say anything till now?”

He sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that every time I look at you, it’s like the words leave my mouth. Of course, I wanted to talk to you after that night, but I didn’t know what came over me every time. You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid my eyes on, and each time I wanted to ask you out, I’d choke up.” “But what about that date?” you asked, trying to process everything. “If you liked me so much, then why did you go on a date?”

Chris looked a little guilty. “George told you about that?” You nodded before he continued, “You can’t blame a guy for trying to move on, especially when a girl like you couldn’t possibly like me back,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “Chris, I… I’ve liked you too. I think I’ve liked you the whole time. But I didn’t think you did, especially after how everything was after we got drunk that night.”

Chris stepped closer, hope in his eyes. “You like me too?” he asked again, making sure he wasn’t wrong about what he heard.

“Yes, Chris, I like you too,” you responded.

“So we’re both hopeless in the love department?” he asked.

“Yep, looks like it,” you said, laughing. “So hopeless that we needed Cupid Clarkey to get us to finally admit our feelings.”

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Chris stopped to look at you, stepping even closer. “God, I love your laugh,” he said softly, and you looked at him shyly.

“And you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” you stepped closer as well and he flashes that gorgeous smile of his, the kind that gets your stomach in knots.

He said, “You know, I regret nothing from that night.”

You replied teasingly, “Really?”

He nodded, “Well, there’s only one thing I regret.”

You asked, “And what’s that?”

He said, “That I didn’t get to kiss you,” as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes go dark and intense, piercing into your soul.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you whispered, and with that, Chris crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything you’d dreamed of and more. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, while your arms made their way around his neck and your hand tangling into those perfect curls of his, tugging slightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss was filled with so much emotion, both of you pouring everything into it—all the pent-up feelings from the past months. It was intense, and full of passion and tenderness, leaving you breathless. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the heat between you two electrifying. It was as if the world had melted away, and there was nothing but this moment.

Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. “Me too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard a slight thud outside the door. Chris gave you a knowing look, and you raised your voice intentionally louder. “Well, George’s bed looks nice doesn’t it? I think he just put new sheets on.”

Chris chimes up, “Maybe we should use it. We’re locked in here anyways. Might as well make the most of our time.”

Immediately, you heard George unlocking the door, bursting into the room. “Okay, get out, both of you. I don’t want you two fucking on my bed.”

You and Chris burst into laughter. Chris scooped you up playfully and ran off to his bedroom, shutting the door behind you two.

Once you were in his room, he slowly placed you on the ground, then pulled you onto his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“So... I think I should ask you properly,” he said, looking up at you.

Chris leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Now that you know how I feel about you, what do you say we give this a shot? Will you go out with me?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that, Chris.” and he flashed you a smile.

“We really should be thanking George,” he said.

“Yeah, normally I hate him meddling, but this time I don’t mind. But please don't tell him that, or I'll never here the end of it,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Chris grinned. Forget about it then, I just want to kiss you again.”

You laughed, and with that, you closed the distance again, letting yourself melt into his touch. The feeling of his soft lips sent a shiver down your spine.

This moment felt perfect, like you fit together in a way that was always meant to be. His arms wrapped around you securely, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours. You hated to admit it, but George playing cupid had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to you and Chris.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bonus Fun Facts (cannon to this AU):

- George did find your drunk closeness to Chris disgusting, but he didn't really care if you snogged his friend or not. He pulled you off of Chris more out of fear of what you would do to him if he let you make any drunken mistakes while he was around. - During your conversation after movie night, George realized that Chris had a crush on you. - He and Chris disappeared off onto the balcony and he managed to get Chris to fess up that he was in fact into you. - George said he'd gladly meddle. Chris told him not to meddle. George meddled. - He knew you two hopeless idiots would not give each other a chance without a gentle push in the right direction. - George did in fact tell Chris not to go on the date, bringing up his crush on you. - Chris said that he was sure that there was no way you liked him and that you had not shown any interest in him. He did not want to make you uncomfortable by making a move on you so he decided to try and forget about his crush. - Could George just have told you that Chris liked you...yes? But did he instead choose to play cupid for his own amusement, of course he did. - Plus you hadn't explicitly told him that you liked Chris and he didn't want to dump that news on you. But then he realized that you were too thick when it came to your own feelings..so he did just dump it on you. - George realized he had to kick his matchmaking skills up to a 100 (and yes his best idea was locking you to in a room). - Of course he eavesdropped, and the next morning he did in fact not let you hear the end of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Also tell me if you liked the bonus facts in the end. I realized that there were things I wanted to include that I didn't want to put into the main fic, so I just threw them in at the end. I personally like it, so I think I'm going to start throwing them into my fics from now on.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hii!! Just a thought, would any of the yanderes baby trap a particularly difficult reader?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘-𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! GN reader, children (lmao), manipulation, coercion into parenting, delusions, slight threats, impregnation mention (it’s not the reader, though), obligatory Tim Drake warning, mentions of possible harm to children.

I’m assuming you just mean the comic book yanderes. Let’s see!

I kept the actual baby-acquisition vague. Could be one or both of y’all’s biological kid, could be adopted, could be kidnapped. Who knows! I also gave them ratings on how they would be as a father, cuz why not.

Bruce Wayne: Yes. Absolutely. This is Bruce we’re talking about. You know, the guy who’s never beating the empty-nester allegations? As long as you’re with him, you’re bound to end up with a kid one way or another. Whether he set out to baby trap you or ended up with a child by chance, he is for sure going to hold it over your head. This kid is going to have both of their parents in their life, biological or not. It’s like a new kid spawns in the manor every time you get even a little bit rebellious. (7/10 father; still has his issues, but he’s learned from his past mistakes.)

Bucky Barnes: Okay, I don’t think he’d initially see himself as a family man. Just never crossed his mind, given his life as the Winter Solider. If he did end up with a kid, it would definitely be by accident. But when that happens, he’ll start to give it a little more thought. The idea of a family… it sounds so domestic; so normal. Uh-oh. Instant baby fever. Now he wants even more kids, and he’ll acquire them by any means necessary. Doesn’t manipulate you with any children, but you may feel obligated to stick around; the Winter Soldier does NOT seem like the type to be good at parenting. (5/10 father; doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s at least enthusiastic.)

Clark Kent: This man wants the classic nuclear family life. While he wouldn’t set out to baby-trap you, it will inadvertently happen with his desire for children. He wants to be tackled by at least 3 kids every time he comes home! And if he’s already had Jon, I can see him making it his mission to find the perfect spouse; that’s how he finds you!! Oh, you’re not good with kids? Doesn’t matter. This man is delusional as fuck. It’s not like he sees you for who you are, anyway. Keep in mind that he’s projecting an idealized version of a spouse onto you. (10/10 father; amazing with kids and is willing to pull your weight when you’re being difficult.)

Dick Grayson: If it comes down to it, he will. Any form of manipulation is fair game, and hey… he’s always dreamed of starting a family of his own one day. Even if you’re not big on kids, he’s willing to play the long game to try and get you to change your mind. And if you never do? Welp. That’s too bad. You’re still gonna end up with a child somehow (Dick’s got plenty of ways to make sure of that). When he finally gets what he wants, he’s for sure using the “think of our kid(s)” card any chance he gets. (9/10 father; he’s a family man at heart, and everyone around him thinks it was only a matter of time.)

Hal Jordan: A bit iffy on starting a family. He doesn’t hate kids, he just isn’t sure if he’s ready. However, as soon as he realizes a child in your life could make you more compliant, he quickly starts to sing a different tune. Now he’s all for having kids!! He’d be obsessed with the power it gives, every interaction between you two having that subtle warning of, “try and escape me now.” Papa-Bear Hal is not a force to be reckoned with. You may find yourself not liking the consequences of trying to break up this happy little family. (8/10 father; there’s a bit of a learning curve for him, but he’ll eventually fall into the groove of it.)

Jaime Reyes: Nope. The thought of having kids makes him sick to his stomach. He knows there’s something wrong with him… god only knows what would happen to his kids. The what if’s would drive him insane, easily trumping the possible gains of baby-trapping you. Sure, it might be a bit tempting — and he’ll admit, a small part of him wishes he could one day be a father — but not only would he feel extremely guilty, he also knows that it’s a bad fucking idea. Hopefully, he can continue to ignore Khaji Da’s own thoughts on the matter. It doesn’t matter how important “continuing the Reyes legacy” is, he’s not taking that risk. (6/10 father; despite his fits of spiraling paranoia, he needs to give himself a little more credit).

Peter Parker: Honestly, it’s a toss up. He’s got his concerns with being a father, but thinking about it makes him all giddy inside. I think this would be another case of accidental baby-trapping. He didn’t set out to do it, but hey… if it works, it works. Any “but what about our kid(s)” that he throws at you is by no means intentional manipulation; he’s just genuinely worried what would happen if you left. Then again, I can also see him slightly doing it. As soon as he realizes it works, he’ll keep it in mind. A thing he’ll tuck away for later and only use when absolutely needed. (9/10 father; loves his kid(s) and would do anything for them).

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, probably. As long as he’s in a position where he can have a kid or two, he’ll go for it. Remy secretly longs for a family (though he’ll never admit it), and if starting one means earning your compliance? Well, shit… that’s just killing two birds with one stone! But again, this depends on if he’s in a position where kids are viable. Should he still have some unfinished business to attend to, he’s not gonna be dumb enough to have kids. Growing up in the Thieves Guild taught him a thing or two about why that’s a bad idea. Otherwise, you are not immune to a sudden baby-acquisition by yours truly. (7/10 father; he gives chill baby daddy vibes who tries his best to be there for his kids.)

Scott Summers: Oh, yeah. It’s guaranteed to happen. This man is committed to having a semi-normal life, no matter how unrealistic that may seem. He wants a family. He wants you to be obedient. He wants a sense of normalcy, goddamnit. Y’all are having a kid whether you want one or not. And he leans heavily towards having a biological kid. If you don’t have the means to get pregnant — or fight tooth and nail against the idea — he’s 100% impregnating someone else and stealing their baby. Yes, it’s a crazy idea. Yes, he’s willing to go that far. Don’t test him. He’ll yell and shout at you about how you need to be there for this fucking kid, even if it’s not yours. It’s in your best interest if you comply. (6/10 father; he’s chronically fighting against the absent father allegations and MIGHT be winning… results are still pending.)

Steve Roger: Poor guy wants to settle down so bad. Yes, he’d baby-trap you, but I can see him feeling guilty for it. He knows it’s wrong, and it would especially weigh down on him if you didn’t even want kids in the first place. But he wants a family so bad. He can’t help it!! And as big of a piece of shit he may feel afterwards, he’ll do what’s necessary to make you behave. You need to be here for your kids! If a little bit of manipulation makes you stay, then so be it. He’s surprisingly good at guilt-tripping, making a good case with the image he has to uphold as Captain America. What would people think if they learned he was a single father? What assumptions would they make about you if you left him? Society might not be all that kind to you. It’s best to just stay. (8/10 father; can get a little busy, but he’s definitely there when it matters the most.)

Tim Drake: Not a fan of kids. There might be a chance of him coming up with a baby-trapping scheme during one of his weird fits, but let’s hope he snaps out of it before it’s too late. Do NOT let bro be a father. On the off-chance that he does acquire a kid… pray. And I mean PRAY. His version of baby-trapping ranges from “but this kid needs you” to “I will fucking kill this kid if you leave.” A situation like this means you have to familiarize yourself with Tim’s mood swings. Be compliant at first, then when he starts to second-guess himself, try to gently coax him into giving this child a better home. Hopefully, that poor kid will survive everything unscathed. Tim wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something bad happened to them. (0/10 father; he’d actually do an alright job when he’s mentally stable, but I think everyone — including Tim himself — would agree that he’d do more harm than good raising a kid.)

Wally West: Yup. No hesitation. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he will get to scheming immediately. His goal would be to make it seem like a natural evolution, even if you’re not keen on the idea of kids. Wally is such a master at masking his manipulation, to the point where it’s unclear if he’s actually baby-trapping you or not, and by the time you’ve realize it… welp… too late. Arguing with him is absolutely frustrating, cuz Wally West does not argue; he smooth talks until makes you feel like an idiot. Wanna know how cruel he is? Those kids will grow up to be accomplices in his manipulation, whether they know it or not. No one can put a stop to his fuckery. (9/10 parent; turns out to be a phenomenal father, I just have to take a point off simply because raising your kids to be just as manipulative as him probably isn’t good.)

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Everyone Else Is No.2 {One-Shot}***

Lewis Hamilton x Attorney Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Mature 18+ Content, Angst, PLENTY OF WORDS, DIALOGUE HEAVY

Words: 15.2k

Summary: Again, nah.

Note: Inspired by that old August Alsina song "Kissing on My Tattoos". So sorry for how long it is and for the long sentences toward the end, it couldn't be any other way. Forgive the weird spacing throughout, Tumblr has a 1,000 block limit per post, and guess who reached it before correcting the spacing.

Note II: Really interested in hearing what you guys think about this one. Let me know.

As always, thank you guys for reading! I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you did enjoy this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

-Y/N-

"You're beautiful you know that right?"

You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

"Thanks."

The man sitting across from you, Darius, nodded and before he looked down to his plate you caught his eyes drop to your cleavage. Of course, you thought. This was your 2nd date with him. The first went smoothly though you'd went with little to no expectations for it to be so. Tonight, he said the right things, did the right things, and was the perfect gentleman.

He'd even chosen a great restaurant. The ambiance was perfect for a second date. So far you had only counted 2 things that were less than satisfactory, everything was on point. He was so on point that you wondered if he was acting and not being his genuine self.

You hated the dating scene. Everyone held their cards too close to their chest. No one was ever real about anything. Everyone liked to waste people's time all in the name of fun and sex. These days you only treated dating as a pastime and a way to relieve stress after long hours of working on briefs and reviewing case files.

"A woman with your track record in law. Wheeew. Was it hard?"

You shrugged then wiped the corner of your mouth, "It definitely wasn't easy. I still remember the sleepless nights, and times when I only had 1 meal a day. My parents still remember not seeing me for 3 months because of the bar and my first major case that came nearly right behind the other. They won't let me forget it."

"It looks like it paid off. You're on the partner track. Shit, you'd be the first woman under 35 to make that happen at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw," Darius said.

You bristled, but politely smiled and took another sip of your wine.

"I'm sorry I don’t mean to make this weird I'm just in awe of you."

You studied him for a few moments but found no lie. You could always tell a lie. No matter what the case, no matter who it was. It was your secret weapon and it served you well as a lawyer.

"Thank you, but enough about me. What about you? Tell me about Darius Forrester."

He smiled, licked his lips then looked you directly in the eye.

"I'm pretty much a what you see you get kind of guy. I've been at Berry & Clark for the last 6 years as a criminal attorney. The work is challenging but I do alright for myself.

You nodded. He did. From what you heard his win ratio was nearly 92% and he took upstanding cases. He was a good attorney. Normally you wouldn’t shit where you ate because mess was not your style. You did not want to walk into a courtroom or boardroom and see the opposing counsel was an ex. That one thing gave you nightmares.

So dating lawyers was out of the question. You dipped in every other career field, playing it safe. The further they were from a law career the better. However, after a conversation with your other lawyer girlfriends about limiting oneself in the already limited dating pool, something clicked, and you decided to try it once but only if they weren't in your firm. Darius was your first attempt.

As he continued to tell you facts about himself you listened, but he didn't have your full attention. There was another person who held your attention, a person who though was usually out of sight was never really out of mind.

You heard your phone sound from your clutch resting on the table and both your eyes shot to it. Darius spoke before you moved.

"Go ahead please."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm an attorney as well, Y/N I know you come attached to it."

You smiled, held up your finger to him silently promising it would be quick, then took your phone in hand. You expected it to be Kemi, your paralegal, with files you were expecting, but it wasn't her name on your screen.

MSG Lewis: What're you doing tonight? Going over an endless to-do list of contracts and briefs?

You smirked.

MSG: Not even close.

MSG Lewis: Wow did someone finally decide to live a little and cut loose?

MSG: This sounds an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black.

MSG Lewis: Plead the 5th.

MSG: The Lewis Hamilton out maneuvered. Say it ain't so.

MSG: I'm close to your place. Just got back in town. Can you be ready in 10?

Your eyes flitted to Darius across from you who was taking the time to check his messages as well. You looked over him slowly, noting again how great he looked in his suit and how you liked the effort he had put in the last 2 dates down to the flowers he brought you and the activities you'd done. Things could progress if you chose to allow them to.

MSG Lewis: Is that a no?

MSG: I'm not home.

MSG Lewis: Okay. Where you at, the office? I can come pick you up.

MSG: I'm not at the office. I'm actually on a date.

You waited a few seconds, but he didn’t reply. Why didn't he reply?

"Everything ok?"

Caught off guard, you looked back up to Darius whose eyes were already on you. His brows were knitted with concern.

"Uh--yeah. I uh--I think so."

"A case?"

You thought about it and technically he was right. You were Lewis' entertainment lawyer. You were his personal attorney who reviewed the contracts after the company attorney said they had. You gave it to him between the eyes, never sugarcoating, and told him what was made with his best interest and what was made to capitalize off of him. However, when your services weren’t needed you were friends. Had been for practically a decade now.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you’d known each other that long. You’d known him since he was just another F1 driver rather than the greatest. He knew you when you were going through school always on an empty tank all in the hopes of rising above the tax bracket you were born into. A decade later and he was dominating F1 and you’d more than risen yourself several levels past the tax bracket you’d been born into.

You were on the partner track at one of the largest firms in Europe. You brought in more revenue than most of the attorneys at the firm thanks to your high-class clientele. You'd both worked your asses off to get to this level and enjoyed the spoils of your labor often. You clubbed together, went to dinner, and sometimes did the vacation vibe together. You enjoyed one another’s company.  

"A client."

"Oh. Everything cool or---," Darius said.

Another message came in just then. "Everything is cool."

Darius smiled. "Good. I'll be right back, men’s room."

"Yeah."

Darius stood then walked off leaving you with the perfect opportunity to check your phone.

MSG Lewis: Is that right?

MSG: Yeah. 2nd date. Well technically 3rd if you can have 2 dates in one day.

MSG Lewis: Cool. Is it going well?

MSG: Yeah. He's made it this far.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

MSG: When he drops me home Ill text you. Come get me then.

Several moments passed before he replied. Again, you wondered why.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

The remainder of dinner you were distracted. Darius played all his cards right, even scoring himself the green light on a little hand-holding action. You had to admit he was smooth. When he pulled up to your condo building he walked you to your door then went in for a kiss. You hadn’t expected it, but rather than pull away, you allowed it to play out. It wasn’t a bad kiss. He hadn’t been too overzealous, only slipped you a little tongue, and had kept his hands respectful. All in all, for a first kiss it was a solid 8.

With a promise to call to set date number 4 sometime next week, you went inside and allowed yourself to come down. The dating scene was not something you enjoyed often. You always felt like you were performing, like men wanted a certain kind of woman, the perfect woman who they could prance around on their arm to make other men envious and that took its toll.

You never felt you had to perform with Lewis. Never felt like he wanted the perfect you. He made fun of you whenever you were perfectly put together for work meetings and said many times he liked you out of the makeup and heels. After another sigh, you took your phone out and texted him.

~~~~~~

-Lewis-

The ceiling looked like every other ceiling he’d ever seen but that didn’t stop him from focusing most of his attention on it like it was the most interesting piece of construction ever. His eyes should have been focused elsewhere but they weren’t. A loud 'slurp' echoed in the mostly quiet room reminding him again that he wasn’t alone.

"Mm. Why are you so distracted tonight, bae?"

Julissa's voice was as smooth as honey and as seductive as ever. He lowered his eyes to where she was kneeling between his legs and took her in. Her lips and chin were wet as she gave him her bedroom eyes. This was not the first time between them. Usually, it would work but not tonight. Tonight he was struggling to even keep his head in the room.

He watched her tip her tongue out and lick from the base of his dick to the glistening tip. Once there she swirled her tongue around him then sucked his head into her mouth. He’d have to be dead for it not to feel nice but that’s all it was--nice.

He sighed then brought his attention back to the ceiling. "Work."

"Aw babe, when you’re with me work should be the last thing on your mind," Julissa said before lowering her mouth down his shaft. When he felt her tonsils he groaned. His body wanted to like this wanted to give her the reaction she was working so hard for, but something was holding him back. Julissa's mouth bobbed up and down his cock sucking and slurping to her heart’s content trying to get him off, but he knew she had her work cut out for her.

He thought back to your text from 2 hours ago. You were on a date. Well shit, he hadn’t seen that coming. That was the last thing he had expected you to be doing tonight. It wasn’t because you weren’t desirable, or he thought no man would want you. For fuck's sake, you were beyond desirable, you were gorgeous and so damn intelligent. He couldn’t figure out which of those made you more beautiful, your looks or your brains. You also worked hard to be where you were, and you deserved all the praise and attention you got wherever you went.

However, sometimes he wished you got a little less male attention--x that, a lot less male attention. He sighed again. This had been going on for 10 years now. Your friendship had only strengthened but along with a strengthening friendship came a lot of other stuff. Stuff like him taking notice of the fullness of your hips or being tempted to peek when you’d been changing in the backseat of his car, or being painfully aware of how your breasts felt against his chest when you hugged.

That coupled with things he had picked up from you, made the unspoken and ignored things that much more—confusing. There were times when the way you stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking spoke volumes or the way your hand always lingered on him for a few seconds longer than necessary but not long enough for it to be inappropriate, or the time you'd fallen asleep together on the couch and he'd woken to you wrapped around him using him as your personal body pillow and mumbling his name in your sleep.

Yeah, there was a lot of extra stuff, stuff neither of you ever addressed. The only ones who assessed it were his friends. Miles told him on several occasions that he should be careful before he or you fucked around, and someone ended up hurt. That stuck with him, but not in the way Miles had probably meant it. Rather than taking it the way Miles meant, he used it as a means to keep himself in check, a form of prevention from him crossing the line. He knew if he did, neither of you would be able to go back. It would be impossible and was one fuck up worth a decades-long friendship?

So friends were where you stayed until he added another facet--professional. Years passed, dates passed, flings, non-labeled encounters on both your parts passed and through it all your friendship remained, and nothing changed. Except today there was even more extra stuff.

The feel of Julissa’s lips wrapped around his balls sent his hips jerking upward as a curse left his lips. Julissa moaned and giggled.

“Daddy likes that?”

He knew how he would like it more. As quickly as he revved to that thought he steered away from it. That was when his phone sounded.

MSG Y/N: I’m home. Whatdaya you wanna do? Should I change?

His eye caught the time. 1am. Almost 3 hours from your last text and you were only now getting home. Clenching his jaw he took a deep breath. He had no right to be mad or annoyed right now. He knew where this was coming from. You’d been on a date, and you said it was going well. A date going well had a chance of making it upstairs. He closed his eyes squeezing them tightly. He hoped to God that you hadn’t just gotten it in.

MSG Y/N: Hello?

MSG: You don’t have to change. How about some treats and a view?

MSG Y/N: Okay. Still 10?

MSG: Make it 15.

Pulling himself up he reached down to stop Julissa. She looked confused.

“I gotta go J.”

Now she looked even more confused. He didn’t owe her an explanation, that’s not how this worked between them.

“With your dick out?”

He scoffed then fixed himself as he stood.

“Lewis this’s never happened before. Are--,” she began before he cut her off.

“All good, just—not in the mood I guess.”

She looked offended now. “I’m sorry J. We’ll talk.”

He walked to the door then left her apartment without a glance back. He didn’t feel any way about it because both of them knew what their relationship was and wasn’t. She’d agreed. Once he was in his car, he zipped through the London streets maneuvering the quickest route to your place. Thanks to the time it was an easy drive with minimal traffic. 15 minutes on the dot he swerved around to the front of your luxury condo building then sent you a text letting you know he was there.

A few minutes later, he peeped you from the corner of his eye. You walked off the elevator in a short and tight black dress, impossibly high strappy black heels, and a flowy robe-like jacket that danced behind you as you walked.

“Fuck.”

You were beautiful. Just then the thought that you’d gone on a date dressed like this rubbed him wrong. Some other man had seen this view, a view you gave willingly. Clenching his jaw, he looked through his windshield as he tried to push all those thoughts—all that other stuff to the side as he’d done countless times before. He looked back just in time to see you open the door of his car then climb in. His eyes dropped to your legs but seconds later he corrected that.

“Hi!”

Your smile was bright as if you really were as happy to see him as your voice indicated.

“Hey.”

You reached over and pressed your cheek to his for a bougie kiss. The only thing he could think was that you smelled like a treat all by yourself.

“How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Wow, what’s it been? 2 months?”

He shrugged as he shifted gears and took off. “Something like that.”

“Mercedes sure knows how to keep you busy,” you teased.

He tried to focus on the road but from his peripheral, he could see you crossing your legs displaying even more skin.

“What were you doing? You smell like fruits.”

He chastised himself because he hadn’t done a bit of cleaning up before he came. His only thought was you. Julissa’s fruity lip gloss still stained his dick that he couldn’t manage to get hard for her.

“Nowhere special. Just kickin’ it.”

You didn’t press further which said you knew just what he was doing. He clenched his jaw again, this time annoyed with himself. As he drove to the dessert place you told him about what was going on in your life while he shared some bits of his with you. Like always conversation flowed like a calm river. It was something he loved. It didn’t take long for him to pull up to the drive-thru of the vegan dessert shop. When it was his turn at the window he tipped his hat lower and left the ordering to you.

You ordered damn near everything on the menu. You didn’t care if it was cake, cupcake, ice cream, brownie, or whipped cream. You ordered at least 2 of everything. It took the staff a good 5 minutes to prepare it all and when he loaded them in the backseat it was completely filled. When he looked at you with an “are you serious right now” look, all you did was giggle. Fuck, he thought. There went all that extra stuff again.

“There is no way we can finish all this,” he said looking at the bags they’d moved to the front since parking at their destination.

“Speak for yourself. I always have room for sugar, sugar.”

He snorted then shook his head. “Mad whack.”

Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and you looked too fucking adorable. You sifted through the bags until you found the dessert you wanted—the vanilla bean cheesecake. Your eyes lit up as you gawked at the large slice that was topped with white chocolate shavings. “It's so pretty,” you gushed.

He watched you snap picture after picture of the treat before you took your first forkful. When you did, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a completely indulgent, hearty, and dick-hardening moan. The fuck, he thought as his dick spasmed to life. Quickly he moved one of the bags to his lap and looked out the window.

“This is so good,” you obliviously said still munching on cake.

He pulled out the vegan chocolate truffle cake and took a bite. It too was good.

“That looks good. Is it?”

“Try it,” he said holding out a forkful to your mouth.

You paused for a split second then cut off a piece of your cheesecake before you held your fork to his mouth.

“You try too.”

The image that came to mind was that of a new husband and wife feeding each other wedding cake and with it, his throat went dry. He knew if he tried to speak he’d sound like a pre-pubescent boy, so he wrapped his lips around your fork taking the piece of cake then fed you his. Your eyes lingered on one another for a few moments nut when you moaned again his dick spasmed again. with that he turned his head so fast that he was surprised he hadn’t snapped his own neck in the process.

“So good,” you repeated.

The two of you sat there commenting on the desserts you went through in record time. He didn’t indulge in sweets often but when he did he found it was usually with your sugar-addicted ass. You said there were 4 things in life you would never give up, sugar, your favorite perfume, your favorite underwear set, and sex. He believed you on all points. When there were only a few pieces of cake left the silence in the car stretched.

“So—a date huh.”

“A date.”

“I thought you gave up dating.”

You took a deep breath then slowly released it before turning your body at an angle facing him. The hem of your dress hiked a little higher and he forced himself to look away.

“I did. Then I got bored and he asked.”

“What does he do?”

You didn’t answer automatically, instead, you took another forkful or 2 of cake, then you spoke.

“He’s an attorney.”

“I thought you didn’t date attorneys.”

“I don’t but me and the girls were talking, and it clicked that by x-ing out a whole career field greatly decreased me finding someone who could stick around.”

He paused. Stick around? This was new.

“Stick around? Are you—are you looking for something—serious?”

You took a beat then shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the other day, I have everything I have ever wanted. I am on this partner track, I make very high 6 figures, I have a great condo, my mental health is amazing, I have no debt, no baby daddies or drama, I—I’m kinda a catch but I go to sleep alone 98% of my nights. I come home to an empty place, I have no meaningful text exchanges, there is—nothing fulfilling in my life. I began to wonder if it was time to change all of that last bit.”

Silence stretched again as he thought over your words while studying you. This was the first time he’d heard you speak like this. Usually, you changed the subject or downplayed having any other thoughts than fun, sex, and work. Now hearing the vulnerability in your voice he knew you’d come to a point where all of this, intention-free dating, pastime sex, stress-busting flirting and all the meaningless interactions were unfulfilling and empty. You wanted more, you wanted love, a life, a husband, kids, vacation homes, and retirement funds, you wanted the quintessential definition of it all. He also noted you now found everything he was currently partaking in meaningless and unfulfilling.

Dropping his head, he stabbed the cake still in his hands. The more puncture holes it picked up the less and less he wanted it.

“Fuck, maybe I’m just bored and need a really, really, good fuck.”

He snorted but it was humorless.

“Don’t downplay what you feel, Y/N. Don’t—make what you feel insignificant, so you feel less vulnerable. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s you and me here.”

“It’s just—you—I know those are things you don’t necessarily want and you’re happy with the--.”

“Who said I don’t want those things?”

His tone was sharp and defensive though he hadn’t meant for it to be.

“Uh—you did.”

“No. I said it’s not something I can afford right now with my schedule and my contract extension. I didn’t say I never wanted it.”

You looked away from him to out the window. “Yeah, but your actions say a lot different,” you mumble.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, look at me. What does that mean?”

You sat quietly for a few moments then just when he was about to ask again you blurted.

“There is a difference between I don’t want it now and I don’t want it ever. Someone who wants it someday would leave themselves open to it rather than boxing every interaction they have into--other things.”

“What if I don’t want to open myself to it?”

“That’s clear Lew.”

“No. You don’t get it. What if I don’t want to open myself to it because I don’t want to find the perfect thing—the perfect woman and then be fucked because it’s too soon and too hard to keep her in my world to wait until I can make those commitments because my world is fucked—I’m fucked because I want the world and will actually keep going until I get it anyone else be damned.”

He could feel your eyes on him, and it was his turn to feel vulnerable and exposed.

“You think because you put everyone in one box it stops what’s meant to be from—being?”

He glanced at you with a pained expression, he knew it. He was actually feeling pain.

“Also—you’re not fucked because you want the world. I want the fucking world. Am I fucked?”

“To be determined.”

You both busted out laughing then. You laughed for a good minute then smiled as it tapered off.

“Aren’t you the tiniest bit lonely in the other side of your life—away from F1?”

He didn’t need to think about that. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to tell you. The facts were that he was lonely more times than not. That was when he called someone to come distract him or make him feel good. He’d become an expert in the art of distraction. In his life, he only had time and the capacity for low stress and no mess. He had enough of both already.

He felt your hand creep into his and squeeze gently. Suddenly, there was all this other stuff again. The feel of your smaller hand in his larger one was something he really liked. Usually, when either of you took the other’s hand it was in passing or for a second, but the moment lingered and stretched, and still you kept your hand in his swirling your fingers against his palm and other fingers. He liked this too much.

“You can tell me. I won’t judge you. In fact—I’m lonely.”

His eyes slipped to you. Your head was down staring at your hands. It had now moved to trace the tattoos on his hand with the point of your nail as if his flesh were an adult coloring book. He watched you trace the rose on his pinky, then the planets on his ring finger. When you got to the lined arrow down his middle, he was having trouble swallowing again. Slowly, you traced the spaceship then went up across the sword until you reached his wrist.

He didn’t know if there was rhyme or reason to your movements or if you were just absently doing it. Goosebumps peppered his skin when you went up his forearm. He looked at you just before your eyes met his.

“You are?”

You nodded. “I am,” you whispered.

The air was on but inside the car easily felt like a sweltering 99 degrees. He didn’t know if it was from your touch or if it was the shift in the air between you. Did you notice it too?

“I think it’s okay to be lonely especially looking at how we live. We’re always working, always pushing ourselves to and through glass ceilings and when we do there is no one really there to share it with, not really, not in the way that fulfills,” you said.

Your face was closer to his now. Had he moved closer or was it you? Your eyes met again, and the temperature kicked up again. Fuck, he thought as his dick recklessly spasmed, begging for attention.

“I’m never lonely with you,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth.

A small smile lit your face, “Me too. Never with you.”

The smile slipped. “Well—not always.”

He turned to you more now, curiosity filling him. “What do you mean?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments but kept tracing his skin with your nail.

“There are times I can’t—guess what you’re thinking. Times I can’t—figure you out.”

“Then ask me.”

“Would you really tell me?”

He leaned closer. “I’d tell you anything.”

You searched his eyes, but you didn’t move back.

“Anything?”

He nodded slowly. His head felt hazy like you had him under some sort of spell with nothing more than your presence and the tip of your finger and all he truly wanted was to touch you in return. So he did. Reaching across to your exposed knee, he circled his finger around the smooth skin there. You sucked in a breath the moment his finger touched you and that one action nearly had him pulling you across the partition right onto his lap. Nearly.

So there on a hill that overlooked London, in his car, sitting near enough to a lone road light, you trailed your finger across his forearm while he did the same to your knee. The low light that illuminated the car bathed your skin in amber making him feel like you were on a whole different plane of existence rather than this real proven and tangible one. Your eyes held him in place to the point where he felt like he couldn’t move though he wanted to.

Without even realizing it you were mere inches from him. In fact, you were so close he could make out the hidden colors in your eyes, so close he could smell the fragrance on your skin that went deeper than perfume. This was your essence and by God he was intoxicated. Unable to stop himself, he inched his hand higher gripping your inner thigh. A soft moan fell from your lips and that was all it took for him to press his forehead to yours like the sound was tethered to his very core.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

The sheer might it was taking to keep himself restrained was becoming too much. At this point, it wouldn’t take much for him to abandon those restraints and give in.

“Lewis,” you whispered.

Your voice was raspy and dripping with what he dared label as desire. Fuck, he thought as he squeezed your thigh. He was so close, mere inches and it wouldn’t take much to close the gap between his fingers and your core but still, he fought himself. He was so wrapped up in his own battle for control within himself that he didn’t even realize when your hand rested on his upper thigh. You were dangerously close to kicking the lid off the box of other stuff that he’d worked years to keep shut. Half of him silently begged for you to keep going and kick it off so everything would be out in the open and it would be do or die but the other half of him hesitated still. The unknown was a powerful and sobering drug.

Your hand inched higher, then closer to what was the rock-hard physical evidence that deep down, now closer to the surface than ever before, he felt more, wanted more than what was. He wanted more than he could possibly afford. Still, his hand persisted, it inched higher making your hips jerk forward. The knowledge that he’d hit a sensitive spot sent his system into overdrive making a deep moan from his lips fill the car.

On cue in response, your legs opened a few inches more, making way for his hand. Jesus Christ he thought. There was his consent, you wanted him as he wanted you. There would be nothing wrong with him slipping his fingers underneath whatever underwear you wore. Fuck, he hoped they were lacy and strappy. There would be nothing wrong with him letting your hand slide to the aching dick straining against his pants begging for your attention. Shit, he bet your hands would feel incredible wrapped around him. There would be nothing wrong with him moving closer and finally claiming your lips as his. Damn, he just knew they were as sweet as they looked, that they felt amazing. There would be nothing wrong with him pulling your body against his for more than a clothed hug. There would be nothing wrong with him cupping your breasts and swirling his thumb across your nipple just to see the reaction it elicited. God damn it, he knew your moans would destroy him. There would be nothing wrong with him finally learning what you tasted like, nothing wrong with him finally smearing your wetness across his lips. Holy fuck, he knew you had to taste like pure sugar and cream.

His cock spasmed again then your hand made the move for him. In the same breath with his eyes squeezed tight, he lurched for your hand, gripping you by your wrist stopping you just before you touched him. As he did that his jaw clenched, the only thing he could do to stifle the moan at the tip of his tongue. It came out as a half groan and growl instead. The strangled whine that left you said you liked it, and he knew he had to end this here. It took him some time to find the smallest bit of control to open his eyes, but he didn’t possess enough control to look at you. There was no way he could.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, voice low and so close to a whisper.

He tried to keep the longing, regret, and hope from it. Slowly he removed his hand from your thigh hoping with everything in him that you grabbed it and nudged it higher. You didn’t though, so he turned forward readying himself to drive. You didn’t move for several long moments; you remained there half facing him with your thighs still tempting him to go back and take things further. With his hands on the steering wheel, he trained his eyes forward. He could feel all the antsy energy bouncing off every cell of his body, he could feel all the need in him wreaking havoc on him telling him to stop being a pussy and do what he really wanted to, say what he wanted to, take what he wanted.

His hands squeezed so tightly that the creaking of the leather echoed in the intense silence in the car. Just when he was about to say fuck it, you turned away from him. You softly cleared your throat then buckled yourself in. Sighing, he pushed started the ignition then swerved out of the parked spot they were in taking the route back to the city. As he drove you didn’t speak, you didn’t even move. You kept your head turned away from him looking out the passenger window with your legs crossed away from him. Your body language sent a completely different message now. Before you were open and so close to him. Now, you were so far he wondered if he’d turned Miles’ words into truths.

~~~~~

-Y/N- 8 Months Later-

The loud ‘pop’ of a champagne cork echoed just behind you making you spin in that direction. A group was just behind you laughing and toasting to something you guessed was momentous. You sighed then turned back to the painting you were currently studying. The abstract lines and swoops looked so similar to the slopes of a body. The longer you stared at it the more it felt like an erotic image than some random lines and swirls. There was something about it that stirred something in you, something that you’d ignored and buried so deep, something you hadn’t felt for 8 months.

You drained your champagne glass then squeezed your eyes shut. It had been a long 8 months. You’d worked your ass off times ten taking on more and more clients than before. You brought on 12 celebrity clients and 4 major corporate ones which brought Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw to the top of the field in revenue. You brought in so much money that you’d gotten 7 poaching offers from firms in different parts of the country.

Thanks to those offers that you hadn’t necessarily kept confidential, the interest in you for partner rose to unbeatable levels. Anyone you were competing against for the position paled in comparison. Those 8 months of ass-busting work led to your name being signed on the paperwork titling you as the new partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw. It was so much of a done deal that your bank account proudly embraced your new status.

With that new status came an increase in the events you had to make an appearance at as thee number 1 entertainment and criminal attorney in London. Your calendar quickly filled with meetings, speeches, appearances, court appearances, dinners, and more. You were so booked that the next time you had any schedule free time was 6 months away. You’d catapulted so far out of your original tax bracket that you’d shattered the glass ceiling that tried to confine you and now you wondered if you’d aimed too high.

“Looks like I’m right on time.”

You looked to your right and found Darius holding another glass of champagne for you. Smiling, you took it.

“That you are, thank you.”

“Of course. To you, the youngest and newest partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw and in the greater London area.”

You smiled as the man who’d stuck around through your insane schedule, your hot and cold behavior, your pull you close one minute, push you away the next, your disappearing acts, your reluctance to place a label on your interactions, your give me sex then get gone rule, and more for the last 8 months.

“Thank you, Darius,” you said leaning toward him and pressing your lips against his.

Darius moaned and reciprocated the kiss, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close. You felt like you were thanking him for much more than the toast and the fresh glass of champagne. You felt like you were thanking him for taking your bare minimum and it made you feel like shit.

Darius pressed his forehead to yours and instantly you had a flash back to the last man who’d done that to you. In a split second, your heart rate spiked, and an intense feeling gripped you.

“You don’t have to thank me, love.”

Your reaction to the action ricocheted through you making you pull away from Darius. Turning back to the painting, you gulped down the champagne.

“It’s crazy that your firm has so many celebrity clients and that this many are here to welcome you as partner,” Darius said in hushed tones.

“It is crazy.”

All night you’d been rubbing elbows with actors, musicians, models, athletes, and more. All of them congratulated you on your promotion and wished you greater success in the future. It was touching but a little bit overwhelming. You couldn’t let on though, so for the entire night you’d been performing, and you were nearing the limits of your stamina for it. You’d been performing for the last 8 months. Shit, you’d even been performing with Darius. You’d been performing ever since you were dropped off in those early morning hours those 8 months ago.

“Y/N,”

To your left, your paralegal now turned assistant, Kemi touched your elbow drawing your attention to her.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, you look incredible,” she said.

“Stop saying that please, you’re gonna blow my head up so big I just might start thinking I deserve a higher position.”

She giggled but gave you a look that said “well ya’ do.”

“The big wigs are asking for you, although you’re now one of them so--.”

You snorted while rolling your eyes. “Then doesn’t that make you the big wig assistant?”

She posed then making you laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to Darius as you walked off to find those big wigs.

It didn’t take long before you found them surrounded by a group of about 10 people. When they saw you they waved you over with large smiles on their faces. You took a deep breath and approached them with an equally large smile.

“There she is ladies and gentlemen!”

The group smiled, patted your back, and welcomed you with friendly banter.

“Everyone!”

The music died down and someone handed Malcolm Boyd a microphone. He was your biggest fan, a black man who’d made unfathomable feats in the field and became an incredible mentor and second father to you. He put his arm around your shoulder as he always did.

“I am filled with great happiness and pride calling this woman the new partner here at Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw!”

Everyone began applauding then, drowning out his next words so he paused and allowed them a few moments before continuing.

“She has been with us for 6 years now and in those 6 years she has accomplished incredible things and when she was done with those incredible things she moved on to outstanding things. Y/N has reminded many of us of what it means to be determined and persistent. She tackles every case with poise, confidence, and grace and that confidence has given her that 99% win record.”

Again everyone clapped. You softly smiled at them half embarrassed by the praise but half so damn proud of yourself and happy that your accomplishments were being recognized.

“Just as Malcome said, “Patrick Halsey began placing his hand on Malcom’s shoulder, “Y/N more than deserves this promotion and I expect her to blow all of our minds in the coming months and years. We just might have to add another name to the plague.”

Many in the audience hollered and hooted at that and you couldn’t lie that the greedy ambition within you salivated at that possibility. You still wanted more. You exchanged a look with Malcome who gave you an all-knowing look. You just found your next accomplishment. The founding partners took turns praising you and giving reasons why you’d earned this promotion then raised their glasses to you for the ultimate toast of congratulations. You humbly thanked them and gave a quick appreciative speech before lifting your glass to the audience.

As you drank down the tart liquid, your eye caught sight of a figure you hadn’t seen in person for almost 2 months—Lewis. He stood at the back in a black suit that clearly was made for him. His braids were pulled back in the way he liked when he was tackling more professional events. He looked as good as ever. He lifted his glass of water to you and in response you gave him a tight smile.

The same thing happened that always happened when you met one another ever since that night. Your body went through this strange cycle of reaction, excitement, confusion, hurt, anger, annoyance, and disappointment. It was exhausting. Because of these feelings, you regretted that night. You regretted allowing your thoughts to go so astray that you opened up your ‘what if’ box. You regretted every whisper, every lean in, every almost touch, every lingering look, everything. You even regretted getting out of his car when he pulled up to your condo instead of pulling him by his hair to you and telling him to go upstairs with you. you didn’t know what you regretted more.

The worst part was that you had to continue on like always. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem because that night was not the first night there had been many ‘what if’ nights over your decade-long friendship. The common factor was that both of you moved on and slinked back into the basics of your relationship—comfort and friendship. This time is difficult, so difficult you contemplated passing his case off to another attorney. If it hadn’t been for Malcome talking you out of it he would have been someone else’s responsibility. Instead, you put on your big girl panties and a mask and did something you never thought you’d ever do with him—performed.

When the crowd thinned out and everyone returned to what they were doing you began making your way back to Darius in the opposite direction. You were ready to leave. Before you got far Lewis stepped in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

Smiling, you thanked him.

“You look--,” his words stalled as his eyes roamed your body. You noted the conflicted look on his face before it disappeared. “Incredible,” Lewis finished.

His compliment made your body warm and something like hope filled you. Chastising yourself you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. You look nice too.”

Lewis scoffed softly then nodded. You then tried to slip by him, however, Lewis wasn’t having it. Again, he stepped in front of you.

“In a rush to get away from me?”

“Why would you say that? Have you done anything to me for me to want that?”

Silence stretched and Lewis studied you his jaw clenched tightly. Instead of speaking, he looked down, an act of defeat.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

“We’re talking right now.”

He gave you an unamused look, but you kept your nonchalant, innocent one. Unexpectedly Miles approached then.

“There she is--partner lady. Congratulations Y/N.”

You smiled then hugged Miles. “Thank you!”

“This is incredible news, Y/N. So happy for you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you for coming,” you replied.

“You know me, always this fool’s plus one.”

You smiled then the silence returned for a few seconds before Lewis spoke again.

“Maybe we can go somewhere—quiet after this?”

“Unfortunately I don’t think I can.”

“Why?”

Just then Darius approached and wrapped his arm around your waist resting his hand on your hip. You watched Lewis’ eyes drop to that hand and continued to watch as his jaw turned tight as if it filled with cement.

“Oh wow. Lewis Hamilton,” Darius said turning to you, his voice awestricken. “Babe it’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You nodded as a soft smile played on your lips. “Let me introduce you. Darius, this is one of my clients, Lewis Hamilton, and his best friend Miles Chamley-Watson fencing champion and Olympian. Miles, Lewis this is my—.”

You hesitated and in the same second, you felt Darius’ eyes on you filled with hope. Two other pairs of eyes were on you--one giving complete double eyeball emoji and the other searing you almost daring you to continue. The longer you didn’t speak, you watched Darius’ hope turn to disappointment. Glancing back at Lewis you found his eyebrow up with a curious and confrontational look while Miles was the epitome of if ‘well this is awkward’ was a person.

“This is Darius Forrester.”

You felt even more like shit now. Darius shook Lewis’ hand first then Miles’. While he did Lewis looked him over sizing him up. You knew he was wondering if he was the same man from those months ago when you’d told him you were on a date.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan,” Darius said to Lewis.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I can sign something for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at his underhanded jab while a half chortle escaped Miles. Darius on the other hand leapt at the opportunity, handing Lewis the only thing he had, an art bidding ballot. Lewis signed the back but kept his eyes on Darius’ hand on your hip.

“Bidding on some art tonight?”

“I am. There is a piece this gorgeous angel has been staring at all night, it’ll be my gift to her for her promotion,” Darius explained rubbing your hip.

You smiled at him then kissed his cheek. Lewis now looked entertained while Miles’ eyes widened as he finished the drink in his hand.

“Ehm, anyway. So I’m sorry I can’t pencil you in tonight but if you call Kemi and make an appointment she’ll get you on the calendar for a different day for that talk,” you said.

“Plans tonight,” Miles guessed looking between you and Darius.

“Absolutely. I’ve had way too much to drink and plan on taking advantage of that.”

You leaned closer to Darius kicking up your performance another notch. Lewis smirked but also clenched his jaw to that. Miles whistled while nodding his head.

“Go on then Ms. Partner, fly by the seat of your panties or no panties,” Miles teased making you and Darius chuckle while Lewis gave him an unamused look.

“Well, enjoy your evening gentlemen. Thank you again for coming by,” you said before you made a move to walk off with Darius.

As you walked away you placed your hand over Darius’ and slyly slipped it lower to rest on your ass. You knew Lewis was watching and decided to deliver the last blow. Was it petty? Yes. Was it fair to Daius? Not at all.

The next hour or so passed with you roaming around the gallery looking at the art while Darius flirted with you. As you roamed, no matter where you went you saw Lewis from the corner of your eye and no matter how much space was between you, your skin reacted as if Darius’ touch was his. The more you felt that way the reality that Darius’ touch was in fact all his own annoyed you making you feel even worse. You knew what needed to be done and knew it had to be done soon.

The only way you could distract yourself was with glass after glass of champagne. As you emerged from one of your countless trips to the bathroom you bumped into Miles.

“Funny bumping into you here.”

You smiled warmly, “Still here? I thought you and Lewis left hours ago.”

“You knew we were still here,” he accused.

You tried to give an affronted look but failed. He was right. Sighing, your act fell for the first time that night.

“Wow. Feels good to not perform huh.”

You looked at Miles and wondered just how much he knew. He didn’t keep you in suspense long.

“What a twisted web we weave when we practice to deceive.” He scoffed, shook his head then continued, look, I am going to tell you the same thing I told Lewis.”

You perked up then but tried to play it off.

“You better stop playing before somebody gets hurt and by the looks of it, it’s gonna be your homeboy Darius if not all three of you.”

You took in his words then put your mask back in place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do, just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

Your curiosity peaked then. “What are you talking about Miles? What do you think you know?”

He scoffed. “I’m a straightforward kinda guy so I’ll say I know everything. As the neutral 3rd party who is both on the outside looking in and the inside watching this train wreck, I know everything. I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Your eyes lingered and the longer they did the more you got his meaning. Glancing away you tried to pretend like his words meant nothing, but you knew you were failing.

“I get it, I really do; 10 years is a long time to put at risk but are you really putting it at risk knowing all you know? You have 10 years of proof. Man up.”

Miles leaned in, kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Let homeboy go so he can find someone who really loves him, someone who can love him. Your corner is full.”

With that, he walked away leaving you speechless and confused. Your corner was full? You had no idea whatsoever what that meant, and you were tempted to follow Miles and get some clarification, but you decided against it remembering the last time you chased down the rabbit hole. When you found Darius again his expression was somber when he told you that the painting he’d been bidding on was outbid and that he didn’t have it to gift you. After assuring him you were fine, you decided you were more than ready to leave.

Darius got the car as you waited outside allowing the cold air to cool your skin. You didn’t care that you were risking illness because it served as a needed distraction. When you felt a fabric drape over your shoulders you bristled at first but then Lewis’ scent circled you and your body relaxed. Even that annoyed you.

“I don’t need this. Darius will be back soon anyway.”

Lewis snorted. “8 months, is that a record?”

“I think it’s a record for you, but I’ve gone longer.”

He scoffed then shook his head. “No doubt, remember Y/N. I will be here long after you get bored with them all. I’m always here.”

Your eyes locked and his should have been radiating cockiness that matched his words, but instead, they were gentle, open, and vulnerable.

“Will you?”

There was no time to reply because a car horn blared drawing your attention. Darius waved at you as he got out of the car to walk around to the passenger side.

“Good night Lewis.”

You walked away from him then slipped into the passenger side. As you waited for Darius to get in and drive off, you stared at Lewis who hadn’t budged from the curb where you left him. Miles’ words echoed back to you then.

“Just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

“You have 10 years of proof.”

“Your corner is full.”

The word ‘full’ echoed over and over as Darius pulled off. Bullshit, you said to yourself in disbelief.

When Darius pulled up to your condo you sat there marinating in all your thoughts throughout the nearly thirty-minute drive. It wasn’t until you felt Darius’ hand on your exposed knee did you realize he was still there.

“Are you okay? Want me to come up?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “We need to talk Darius.”

When you looked at him his expression said he knew just what you were about to say. Being as gentle as you could, you ended things. Although the old “it’s not you it’s me” line fit the situation perfectly. You dug a little deeper and gave him and heartfelt reason without revealing you were and had been in love with your best friend for 10 years and didn’t realize it until his feelings were already on the line. When you finished, Darius remained the good guy he was and told you he understood and that he’d expected this sooner or later. You thanked him for being good to you then began making your way to the elevators.

Halfway there you dug into the pocket of the jacket you wore and froze. When you took your hand out you held a note with your name sprawled on the front in Lewis’ handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve thought for months about what to say to you because there is so much to say, so much that has gone unsaid for so long that I don’t know where to start—how to start. 10 years is a long time especially when neither of us has been 100% honest with the other. I want to end that. Please.

-Lewis

You read then reread the note over and over hoping you would know what to do next but no matter how many times you did, you had nothing. So you walked back and forth in the lobby. When your phone sounded, you found a message from Lewis.

MSG Lewis: Ball’s in your court. I’m outside your building.

You froze then slowly turned and saw his car. It had been months since you’d been in a car with him and the thought of doing it again freaked you out a little. Your eyes met at that moment, but he didn’t move. He was giving you the time to decide for yourself. You turned your back to him then walked to the elevators but stopped halfway. After a few moments, you turned back around and walked to the doors only to stop halfway again and repeat the whole cycle. Still, Lewis didn’t budge. He just watched as your internal debate played out physically.

After ten minutes you stooped down and put your down, completely exhausted by your indecisiveness. Taking a deep breath, you held it and allowed your lungs to adjust. It was an action you often did to help you think and calm down. As your oxygen levels decreased your heartbeat would slow and as it did, there was always one particular beat where you figured it all out. It usually came right in the nick of time.

So you allowed your heartbeat to slow and though you should have panicked you didn’t. You thought clearer than you’d ever thought before.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Miles’ words came back to you again and it was then you gasped filling your lungs with air. After a few breaths, you stood then turned to the doors. It worked all the time. With your head high and back straight you walked toward them then climbed inside Lewis’ car. Without a word, he pulled off then turned back onto the streets.

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later you walked into a penthouse suite right behind Lewis.

“Why here?”

“Thought neutral ground would make you more comfortable.”

You scoffed and beelined right to the bar, tossing his suit jacket over the back of one of the bar stools. As you mixed yourself a drink you tried not to focus on him, but you did. No matter where he went you knew. You were hypersensitive to him at this point. You’d only meant to make a glass but ended up making a whole shaker cup. You kicked off your heels, climbed onto the bar stool then plopped yourself on the countertop. Once comfortable you crossed your legs and sipped your drink.

“Where’s Darius?”

“Not here obviously.”

“You and I are so alike it’s insane,” he said as he approached you, but he didn’t come close. He stopped at the sectional couches in the middle of the large living area and then sat.

The silence in the room was thick for such a long time you began thinking about leaving altogether.

“Congratulations again. I’m so fucking proud of you. You saw something you wanted and didn’t stop until you got it. You deserve this.”

Your stomach flipped hearing his praise. More than anyone he knew what you’d gone through to get here. It touched you. Looking away from him, you cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

His eyes remained on you as if daring you to look back at him. It was a dare you had to accept. Your eyes locked and you instantly felt it. There was so much to say. Just behind him, you saw something familiar. Squinting, you made out the painting you’d been staring at all night, the painting Darius wanted to bid on for you. It clicked then, the reason why Darius couldn’t win it was because Lewis claimed it first. You scoffed, the man was competitive and dominant to a fault. You couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture though.

Lewis sighed bringing your eyes back to him, “I don’t even know where to start,” groaned, rubbed his eyes then spoke again. “Maybe I’m sorry is a good place.”

You studied him for a few moments then took a mouthful of your drink. “For what?”

“You know for what.”

That night.

Those words hung in the air, and you did your best to remain aloof. Scoffing, you shook your head. “It’s all good Lewis.”

“You’re lying and you know it. I thought attorneys believed in the truth.”

“Who are you to tell me what my truth is?!”

You hadn’t meant to shout it, but you did.

“Because more times than not our truths match up and I am sure that what happened was not all good to you because it wasn’t to me.”

“And what exactly wasn’t all good to you?”

“The way we—I left things,” he quietly said.

You waited for him to continue because there was no way in hell you were going to make this easy for him. He wanted to talk so he’d talk. Lewis shook his head then hung it backward. He sat there staring into the ceiling for almost a full minute before he looked back at you.

“I just—flipped when we were—you were—you wanted--,” he stuttered.

You scoffed again, “Don’t flatter yourself, Lewis,” you said slipping into the barstool and spinning it around so your back faced him.

“What?”

“You and I both know that none of that meant anything to you. It’s all good.”

“Now who’s telling who what their truth is?”

You didn’t take the bait, instead, you kept your back to him and finished your glass.

“You forget, I know you, Lewis. 10 years of friendship and I know you so well that it was my own damn fault that night.”

“Whatdaya know?”

After refilling your glass you turned back around then hopped off the stool and walked toward the large floor-to-ceiling window. “I know that that you were with one of your rotation chicks before you came to pick me up. I smelled her on you. That fruity aroma was all her. I know that because of that tidbit of info, none of it meant anything.”

Leaning against the window you stared down at the view of London. Lights glistened down below, and you imagined everyone scurrying to where they had to go so wrapped up in their own thoughts or existence to even suspect that it all was fleeting.

“Okay, I’ll own that bit. Yeah, I was with one of them but that was only after I found out you were on a date.”

“So it’s my fault. I was on a date living my life, so you decided to get your dick wet. Okay.”

You took another sip from your glass not liking the direction of this little talk he wanted to have.

“I never said it was your fault. It’s just a fact. I texted you because I wanted to see you, wanted to spend time with you and you were spending time with someone else, someone you probably did God knows what with hours before you saw me.”

And with that, you were done here. Finishing the glass you turned and walked to the door.

“Good night Lewis.”

He scurried in front of you blocking your path. “Wait, please. Shit! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Two sorries in the span of twenty minutes, cool. Get out of my way.”

“No, Y/N, please wait.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’ve waited 10 years!”

“You’ve waited? I’ve—.”

Lewis threw his hands up then walked away grunting and talking to himself. He looked insane and it kind of made you pleased seeing it. He always appeared so in control, so aware of himself and his actions at all times. It had all gone to shit now. You stood there debating if you should just leave and let things remain how they were until the day you both just stopped talking and checking in and it ended up going on for another 10 years until you were just people who used to know one another, people who’d missed out on something. It was then you realized you weren’t wearing shoes.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“I wanted you that night. I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anyone, including anyone in the rotation. Do you know what I was doing while you were on your date?”

“Getting your dick wet. I know.”

“I was lying on Julissa’s bed as she gave me head.”

You scoffed, “Of course you were.”

“She’d been going for 40 minutes and still I was barely hard. No matter what she did, no matter the tricks, no matter how nice it felt, barely hard. I was lying on her bed with my dick in her mouth thinking about you on your fucking date.”

You looked at him then. Those were words you hadn’t expected.

“My mind went crazy thinking what was happening. The longer that went by without you texting me the thoughts killed me. As soon as I got your message I left. No other thought, just you. I prayed to God that the date didn’t go well enough for you to let him upstairs. Then I saw what you were wearing, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous. I was jealous.”

“Why?”

Lewis looked at you then. “Because he got to see you like that. You’d dressed up for him, wanted to turn him on with that outfit. He’d spent the entire night with you. He’d had what I wanted.”

Well shit, you thought before walking back to the bar. Rather than making another drink, you took up a bottle of champagne and brought it to your lips.

“Do you know what it feels like to want someone so bad that it fucks with you and everything you do? To want someone more than you’ve wanted anything. To want someone in a way that is new to you, so new that it scares you. Do you know what it feels to have this crippling fear every time that someone is in your grasp, but not being able to resist the temptation, the desire to make them yours? Do you know what it feels like to know that you only burn this bright, this hot, this dangerous with one person, and the burn is all-consuming?”

He looked almost hysterical now. “Do you know what it feels like to want the perfect someone for you? I’m talking molded for you in every way while knowing it’s not the right time for you because you both want too much from the world and because you know that because you burn so hot, so bright that you’ll burn each other if either of you ever let go and let it happen? To know you are so similar that you will either destroy each other or ruin one another for anyone else.”

The look on his face was so damn relatable. He’d just said everything you’d thought over the last 10 years. Everything.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me.”

He was practically ranting now. Spewing every single thing that he’d ever thought, confessing it all.

“So because of all that you try to keep up pretenses that you’re friends and nothing more though you have countless moments where you slip up and stare at them too long, or hold them in your arms from a hug for half a minute too long, or let your hand linger in theirs or around their waist to test boundaries because you just can’t not touch them, or even find reasons to do every single thing together. You take those 2 steps forward not realizing you do because the pull is too strong, then you freak out and leap back 5 steps. You do this for weeks, months, years until 10 of them have passed and you have this huge box you’d filled with all the other stuff between you that you can’t express or fess up to until that box just gets stirred by one action, one moment--one night.”

His eyes were locked on yours. Somehow he’d traveled across the room to the bar and was standing right in front of you. Somehow he’d locked you in the frame of his arms leaving you nowhere to run. Somehow he’d managed to inflate your chest with hope right beside your thundering heart.

“Then suddenly—everything has changed, and nothing can be the same ever again,” he finished, his voice a whisper in the completely silent room.

You watched his eyes lower to your lips and your gut flipped again.

“Do you know what any of that feels like, Y/N?”

There were only mere inches between you now and the sheer proximity of his body to yours made you shiver.

“H—how long—have you—felt this way?”

Your voice quivered in a way that made it obvious to him what his nearness was doing to you.

“10--fucking years,” Lewis replied eyes glued to yours.

He took one step to you, “I’ve spent the last 8 months cleaning my life, cleaning my circle because I’ve gotten to the point where I could no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. You’re number one, Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to say, and even more unsure what to do. He was right, your truths usually did line up and this was no different.

“And I know it scares you, shit it scares me too. All of this does. I know my life is insane and yours is about to be even more so, I get you still have things you want to accomplish; I saw your face when Halsey mentioned adding your name to the plaque. You want it and I want it for you as well as the world for both of us. Our timing can’t be any worse, but something has got to give, love, because I can’t take another year let alone 10 of this.”

You took a deep, ragged breath.

“Where--,” Lewis began before stopping and chewing his top lip.

It was a nervous tick. “Where do I—stand—with you?”

For 10 years he’d been so hard to read, so nearly impossible to gauge, and here right now in the darkness of the room you could see him as clear as day. He was oh so transparent and scared you’d reject him. Scared you’d decide he was more trouble than he was worth. Scared he’d just showed you his heart and ruined your friendship in the process. Without realizing it you were crying; you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Sniffling, you wiped it away, “Ehm, I broke up with Darius tonight.”

Lewis looked shocked. Clearly, he thought you were still together.

“Why?”

You wiped the other tear that fell from your eye then looked away from him. All of a sudden the room felt smaller than it was, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. Lewis cupped the back of your head cradling your skull in his palm making you look him in the eyes.

“Why?”

“For the last 8 months, I’ve been hot and cold with him, I pulled him close one minute then the next pushed him away, I disappeared a lot always using work as the excuse. I was busy, yeah, but it wasn’t work. I was always so reluctant to put a label on what we were doing, every time he brought it up I changed the subject never giving him the answer he wanted. Even when we had sex--.”

Lewis took a deep breath, dropped his head, and harshly released it, clearly displeased with confirmation that he’d had you that way, but you continued.

“Even then it was usually always on my terms, and I always wanted him to leave right after. I was—I was always thinking about someone else, something else instead of him, and for 8 months I never felt anything remotely close to what I felt that night with him. over the months every time I saw you it hacked at whatever was going on between me and him until tonight seeing you again it just--.”

You flicked your five fingers indicating an explosion. I’ve become hypersensitive to you, and I don’t know when it happened. It dawned on me that—I was using Darius and it wasn’t fair.”

Lewis searched your eyes not hiding the hurt in his. You took a step towards him. “You’re right about a few things. Our timing couldn’t be any worse.”

He nodded.

“Our truths usually always line up.”

Lewis looked hopeful then.

“Your life is insane.”

The hope faltered.

“I do want my name on that plaque, and I will get it.”

A small smile crooked his lips.

Another tear rolled down your cheek and again you wiped it away, “I can also no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. Always has been because you’re my number one.”

He clenched his jaw then and the emotion that washed over his face rocked you. Like an earthquake rocking the Earth’s surface.

“I am scared.”

As this tear rolled, Lewis was the one to reach out and gently wipe it with the pad of his thumb. Your lip quivered.

“I’m so scared.”

Lewis pushed forward then, crashing his lips to yours in one swift move. Once your lips met neither of you went slow. The kiss was frenzied from the beginning, both of you wanting it all and not wanting to waste any more time taking it. As his tongue rolled with yours you closed the space between you pressing your body against him. Lewis softly moaned, wrapping his arms around you. When you bit down on his bottom lip he groaned then walked you backward until your back collided with the edge of the bar. Trapping you there once again, he kissed you without holding a thing back and your body responded to him instantaneously.

In a matter of seconds, you both were moaning against each other and completely wrapped up in the new feelings that were consuming you. Lewis cupped your face as he kissed you then ran his hands down to your neck. You couldn’t deny that this felt even better than you imagined. Moaning, you clutched his waist but when that didn’t suffice, you slowly slid your hands up along his toned abs, over his chest taking in the bulge of muscle there. When you wrapped them around his neck, Lewis pressed more persistently against you.

“Mmmm!”

Lewis tore his lips from you and put his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I don’t want to get too carried away. I’m sorry I should have asked first.”

“Consent fucking given,” you said before you crashed your lips to his.

This time you took control. Swirling your tongue with his you didn’t give him time to react or gain the upper hand. You wanted to taste him, and you refused to wait any longer. Teasing his lips, you nibbled his bottom one, taking your time to sensually suck on it until he moaned against you. The vibration shot through you making you feel like you’d only now just begun to truly feel. Lewis’ hands roughly gripped your hips, holding you steady so you could feel that you weren’t the only one finally feeling for the first time.

Heightening both if your pleasure, you sucked his tongue until he groaned. The next thing you knew Lewis’ had you by the hips lifting you onto the bar top. You wrapped your thighs around him and nearly came when you felt his hands pry your legs apart. The heat radiating off of his hand on your bare thigh reminded you of the night in his car and you prayed he didn’t stop again.

As if reading your mind, Lewis met your eyes while he slid his hand higher and higher and higher until his fingers crawled to your inner thigh. Softly he raked his manicured nails against your skin forcing a whimper from you. You bit down on your bottom lip and silently willed yourself not to cum from the anticipation. Suddenly the back of Lewis’ fingers brushed against your sex. Your gasp was loud, breathy, and stretched out as he took his time moving centimeter by centimeter until he’d trapped your clit between his pointer and middle finger. Your jaw dropped all the while he held your gaze.

When he tightened his fingers and rubbed against you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You knew then he was dangerous, and you were going to cum.

“F—ha—fu-huck!”

Your back arched, head fell back as your body moved like it were possessed. Each spasm of pleasure had you bucking against his fingers until you could hardly breathe.

“My god you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum, love.”

You giggled and moaned as the tremors worked their way through you. “Mmm, orgasms and compliments, a girl could get used to this,” you cooed.

“Good. This is your future.”

Lewis moved his hand, brought them to your thighs then lifted them. As he planted your heels at the edge of the bar, you knew what he wanted. Your eyes dropped to his lips then you moaned. Pulling your dress away from your legs you allowed them to fall back to the bar showing him not only gymnasts were flexible.

“Oh fuck,” Lewis groaned.

You watched his eyes drop to your sex and the look on his face was unlike any you’d ever seen. No one had looked at you like this before. He stared where your thighs met like it was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen, the first of its kind and something he wanted to completely destroy. You now felt like prey spread before him like this, like at any moment he was going to pounce on you.

“Mmm.”

Lewis came closer and closer until he rested on his elbows and was just inches from your sex. The anticipation was killing, and he had to know it.

“I knew you were a lacy knickers kind of woman,” he muttered.

“I take it you’re a lacy knickers kind of man.”

“On you, fuck yes.”

With that, Lewis hooked his thumbs in your underwear and pulled them to the side. He blew out a breath in reaction to seeing you bare for the first time and that breath fucked you up all over again. You threw your head back trying to calm your anxieties, but just when you met his eyes again you found his tongue out sliding against your wet folds.

Oh—my—goooood!”

Lewis moaned and did it again and again until he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Mmmm.”

Lewis pressed your thighs back keeping them spread then went to town. If you’d ever doubted before that his mouth game was incredible you didn’t now. He licked, flicked, and sucked along your flesh making your back remain in a prolonged arch. Within seconds you were whining and writhing as his tongue worked literal fucking magic. The sound of Lewis’ slurping echoed in the living room and that was when your hands grabbed his head. Pulling his hair free you held on and bucked against his mouth.

“Mmm.”

He stuck his tongue out and let you take over. With every buck against his tongue, you called his name and the more the tip of his tongue flicked your clit the more out of control you felt. Your release was so close your body moved more wildly needing it at all costs.

“I’m gonna cum Lewis.”

“Cum for me, Y/N!”

You didn’t need to be told more than once and when you were right on the precipice you felt Lewis slid two digits inside of you. Just like that, your orgasm morphed from a toe-curling release to soul snatching one. You screeched as your body convulsed but he didn’t stop then, he pumped his fingers in and out of you then added a third finger stretching you wide.

“Uuuugh fuck!”

You barely finished your words before Lewis threw you over his shoulder, keeping his fingers inside of you. As he walked through the suite his fingers kept fucking you, readying you for him. When your back met the soft sheets of the mattress, Lewis still hadn’t broken contact. He watched you now as you lay there unable to control your body.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Pulling his fingers free he cleaned two of them off before you sprang to your knees to claim the third. As you sucked his finger you kept your eyes on his. You could see how badly he wanted you, how much he wanted from you, and you couldn’t believe he’d held back all this time. You took your time sliding each button through its slot until his shit was wide open. When you pushed it off of him you took in a sight you’d seen plenty of times only now it was different.

You brought your hands to feel across his torso marveling at each defined ab muscle and each tattoo. When you intentionally rubbed against his beaded nipple you noted the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. How had you never noticed your effect on him? How had you never taken it seriously? Bringing your hands back to his waist you undid his pants. You brushed your palm against the protruding mass straining against his pants which made him shiver as he grunted.

“Oops.”

Lewis scoffed then licked his lips and that was all it took for him to claim back some of the control you possessed over this exchange.

“Of course, you’re a fucking tease.”

You innocently smiled. “I haven’t even begun to tease you.”

“I bet.”

Lewis snuck forward kissing you one peck at a time, over and over.

“Mm, can you take it?”

“Any other night my answer would be yes, hell in an hour my answer will be yes but right now--.”

He cupped your sex with on hand and the back of your neck with the other.

“Mmm.”

“Right now, I have no control left. I’ve remained in control around you for 10 years and right now I just want to let it all go. I want to bury myself so deep inside of you there is no mistake that we belong to each other bad timing or not. It’s you and me, Y/N.”

You groaned as his words only increased the wetness between your legs. You kissed him again, then you turned your back to him and swayed your body against him. Lewis dropped a kiss to your shoulder as his hand crept around to cup the underside of your breast. You leaned forward getting on all fours with your ass poking out to him.

“Undo me?”

He didn’t move for a few moments, and you waited for him to enjoy the view. When you felt his hand rub against your ass you dipped your back lower which only made your ass poke out more. Lewis trailed his hand along your spine that the backless gown proudly showed off. Then he went to your tailbone and lowered the zipper of the dress. Peeping over your shoulder, your eyes locked as you allowed the dress to fall away from your body.

His groan was low—primal. It was all you needed to hear to know he liked the strappy number you wore that was made of fine lace. You expected him to take his time but instead, you felt him peel off the garment leaving you completely naked before him for the first time ever.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N. So wet and so fucking perfect.”

You spread your legs further then stretched your arms over your head using your head to hold you up. As expected, Lewis flipped you onto your back making you giggle. You roamed your hands over your body, cupping your breasts then sliding them down your abdomen to your dripping core. The entire time, Lewis kept his eyes on every move you made while he pulled his pants and underwear off.

When he stood bare before you, your surprise could not be masked. You didn’t know what you’d expected in your late-night thoughts about what he was packing but you had no way of expecting this. Lewis gripped his length then slowly stroked it as he pressed a knee onto the mattress.

“Scared?”

You bit your bottom lip as you gawked at what the good lord blessed him with. It was unfair and completely intimidating.

“Now I see why everyone in the rotation was so happy being one of many.”

He snorted, bringing his other knee to the mattress between. Slowly he stalked closer like a predator with a deadly weapon in hand.

“There is no rotation anymore.”

“Oh yeah. The LH44 Harem has been disbanded?”

As he crept closer, you slid backward.

“You’re not funny.”

“So am I the first to usher in a new era—a new harem?”

Lewis grabbed your ankle then pulled you back to him making the backs of your thighs slam into the fronts of his. He then hovered over you before dropping an opened mouth kiss on your nipple. Sucking the peak into his mouth he sucked raising your back off of the bed.

“You’re in no harem. I told you, it’s you—and me,” he said nibbling your flesh.

Stared at him letting it all sink in. You brought your hand to his bearded cheek and rested it there.

“Are we really doing this? Like—for real?”

Lewis boxed your face in with his muscular arms and stared into your eyes. “I’ve told you where I stand, Y/N. I’ve told you everything that’s in here.”

He took your hand and placed it over the roaring lion etched on his skin keeping his hand over yours.

“It’s time you tell me what’s in here,” he finished placing his other hand over your left breast.

“You,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Before you could react or even respond Lewis thrust forward sending the tip of his hardness inside of you, stealing your breath, and every thought. A breathy gasp filled the air. Slowly he pushed forward, leisurely filling you giving you time to adjust to his size.

“Haaaa.”

Lewis kept his hand over your heart while holding yours over his as he filled you inch by tortuous inch never taking his eyes off yours. Your entire being was on fire like he was pouring molten lava inside of you with every inch he gave you.  

“Oh fu—Lewis,” you panted.

From the way his jaw was clenched, and eyes focused intently on you, you could tell he was feeling everything you were.

“How are you so tight?”

Digging your nails into his chest you tightened your leg around his waist and as if that was his last straw, Lewis flicked his hips forward filling you completely and tearing a scream from both of your lips. Neither of you moved for several moments but with every second that passed by your body blazed. Bucking against him, you slid your hand up to his throat and then gripped it.

“I love you. Fuck me. Now!”

Those words would be your ruin because he did just that without mercy and complete recklessness. Your moans and whimpers melded together rising in decibel and power until the entire room shook with the power of your screams for one another. As he plowed inside of you he didn’t go slow, he followed his basal instincts that were imprinted in his DNA, a need to claim, and dominate.

You’d never felt so out of control in your life. No matter how he fucked you, you couldn’t get enough. No matter how deep he went you wanted him deeper. No matter how he called your name you wanted him to scream it. You wanted every fucking thing he had. You wanted to leave him in shambles. When he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, he held your ass in the air and fucked you so thoroughly you’d lost track of how many times you came. It didn’t matter because you wanted more.

He must have been able to read your mind because there was no way he could tell what you needed this soon, you thought to yourself as he grabbed your wrists and pulled you back, so he had your upper body hovering above the mattress.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming Lewis! Ooh shiiiiiit!”

He took advantage of this new angle and circled his hips as he jackhammered into you, fucking you as you did something you’d never done before—squirted. You screamed from the force of your release, but Lewis didn’t stop, he fucked you through it then torpedoed you into another one that you knew would tear you apart. Racing for it, you slammed yourself back into him relishing the mix of pain and pleasure that only intensified when Lewis bit down on your shoulder.

“You got one more for me, darlin? Cum for me. Soak this dick, pretty girl, drench me so I can fill that pretty pussy up.”

“Aaah!”

You clenched around him as you lost yourself and fell off the cliff and into an endless pit of pleasure. You felt Lewis spasm inside of you before he cursed and shouted his release doing just what he promised. Filling your pretty pussy up.

When the two of you finally collapsed on the bed Lewis held you to him spooning you while still being nestled inside of you. Bit by bit you came back to your body and slowly your body went from violent shakes to subtle tremors and a hazy feeling washed over you. Lewis peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder nipping your skin every now and then.

“Mmm. Oh my god!”

He snorted. “You good?”

“Good? Am I good? Are you—at the risk of swelling your head even more than it already is that was--.”

“Was?”

You searched for the words but couldn’t find the right ones. “It was,” you settled on making him laugh as he held you tighter.

“Naw, I was alright, you—you were,” he said making you snort.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being for real for real. It’s a miracle I held on that long, you feel unbelievable, so good, too good. You—are!”

You giggled then moaned, sleepiness creeping up on you.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, I’m nowhere near done with you.”

His manhood inside of you lurched nudging your g-spot and just like that your eyes snapped wide open.

“Watch yourself, I know your weakness now.”

“You?”

“Nope, this pussy.”

Lewis snorted then flipped you onto your stomach again. This time he straddled you as he slowly pulled out of you only to plunge right back in.

“Mmm.”

“Still so damn tight,” Lewis groaned.

“You’re welcome to try stretching me out.”

Lewis jerked his hips forward delivering a bruising thrust as punishment for your your sassy mouth. It was a thrust that took your breath and made you go cross-eyed.

“Mmm, yes!”

“Oh, aren’t you full of surprises. Pretty girl likes it rough and hard.”

He did it again and again, making you hit the bed each time as you buried your face in the sheet to muffle your screams.

“God yes, Lewis!”

“So fucking alike,” Lewis said before lowering his lips to your ear. “Remember I love you 'cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Not waiting for a reply he held your arms to the bed then delivered on his promise. Everyone else was number 2 compared to you being each other’s number 1. Nothing else mattered.

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

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[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt; weird Kryptonian bonding rituals.

“This just not how I expected to become a dad,” Lois mutters under her breath, putting her hands in her hair. “Seriously, I was going to get a Pulitzer first. How am I supposed to be a dad without a Pulitzer?!” 

“You were ever expecting to be a ‘dad’?” Jimmy asks, raising an eyebrow at her. Lois glares back at him. 

“You know what I mean, Jimmy!” she hisses. “A parent! Any kind of a parent!”

“What’s a Pulitzer?” Conner asks curiously. 

“The Pulitzer Prize!” Lois says, gesturing dramatically with both hands and starting to pace. “It’s one of the most distinguished awards in journalism! It’s been going since 1917! It’s a huge honor and a major achievement and–!”

“What’s it have to do with being a dad?” Conner interrupts, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Lois . . . pauses. 

“Um,” she says. 

“Probably nothing,” Jimmy says with a shrug. “Like. Almost definitely nothing.” 

“Then why’s it matter?” Conner asks, still looking puzzled. Lois puts both of her hands over her face. 

“Oh my god, I am my dad,” she says despairingly. “I think my career matters that much? Seriously?! Conner’s not gonna care if I have a Pulitzer or not if I’m a bad dad to get a Pulitzer! Oh my god, what am I doing with my life?!”

“Having a crisis, apparently,” Jimmy says. “And, like, some serious reprioritizing.” 

“I don’t think taking pride in your work is a ‘bad dad’ thing,” Clark says. Though having a kid is a reprioritizing-level situation, he thinks. Definitely when they’re a surprise kid. “That’s setting a good example for Conner, really. Just, you know . . . don’t ignore him to kidnap and illegally detain people because you think they might have something to do with a theoretical invasion, and I think you’ll probably be fine? Probably?” 

“Yeah, the invasion thing really seemed important to, like. Everybody who was working on me,” Conner says as he sneaks another honey bun. He’s adorable about it, so Clark doesn’t stop him. “They kinda suck, though, sooooo . . . I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you were gonna invade them a little. Just saying.” 

“No one’s doing any invading,” Clark says immediately, then feels awkward because, well, technically–“I mean, I don’t think anyone’s doing any invading. I’m not! I’m very much not doing any invading! Ever!”

“Are you sure?” Conner looks disappointed. 

“No alien invasions until you’re eighteen,” Lois says. “. . . or until we figure out how old you should count as being.”

Conner pouts. 

. . . they could probably invade just one dubiously-ethical lab, Clark thinks, if Conner really– 

“No, Clark,” Jimmy says. “I know that look, man. We don’t need any more angry government dudes or MIB-types after you, we’ve got enough of those already! Like, way too many!” 

“I think any is ‘too many’, in this case,” Lois says, looking sour.

[rev-wrath]

I've seen a piece of fanart about the in-universe Gothamite's guide to ships Bruce is part of and it got me thinking about that with the albatross duo (who are looped together cause have u seen them interacting with each other. like they'd ever break off their bond). The average Gothamite discusses the duo's potential/speculative third on at least a bi-weekly basis cause there's literal no other gossip in the god-forsaken city-

I think the most popular person that they're shipped with is Harvey- both pre & post Two-Face. Older Gothamites remember seeing the three of 'em running about the city when they were all pups and younger ones saw pictures and tabloid articles about Harvey and Bruce and R. Post Two-Face tho... it's childhood friends + doomed lovers and just tragedy all around so it's still a popular ship I think.

Some other ships include- one with that Metropolitan Journalist, Clark Kent- who's the only one to have gotten an interview with both their pathetic lil mew mew Bruce Wayne and his knight R, at the same time. And the fact that he left the grounds of R's mansion wearing very different clothes from when he first came to the city really didn't help. (Batman needed help from Superman for a thing, and one event led to another and ruined all of Clark's clothes. It was only by pure chance that R had spare clothes in the man's size in the storage.)

Another one is with Batman, the city's Dark Knight. Now, R and the Bat think they're being subtle but everyone knows they chase each other across the city's roofs. Some people speculate that R's being unfaithful to Bruce but that's like a minority opinion (Alfred laughs at that when he unwittingly comes across those kinds of posts).

Post JL formation though, the duo- as they're the main investors for the League ofc- would get shipped with. So. Many. Of. The. Heroes. Superman? Yeah, everyone's seen the way he carried Bruce Wayne out of a building princess-carry style. And the way he caught R whilst they were falling from a high place. Wonderwoman? She curls around protectively around the both of them during press conferences. The Green Lantern? The Flash (Barry and R have a laugh at that)? They all play into it tho. Maybe there is an underlying attraction there somewhere or maybe they're focusing the attention (of being many superheroes' 'weaknesses') on R + Bruce bc they can protect themselves.

Post Damian introduction tho, I feel like Talia would become more and more of a popular candidate for their third. She does linger around Bruce and R often, and later on it would be more of a public knowledge that Talia is Damian's birth mother so they all speculate that the three of them were in a secret courtship when Bruce and R were both out of the city.

The kids all have their favourite candidates and they make their picks known on Twitter.

(Did u know I had this ask in my mind last night and I wrote in my notes tell myself to send it to you in the morning bc I know that our short timeframe together is around that time)

I love all of this.

Everyone not involved has a stake in it. R gets dragged into YouTube compilation with Bruce. “The Prince and Knight of Gotham being the IT COUPLE for 6 minutes”. Then it expands into “A Deep Dive into Gotham’s It Couple” which then continues into who they’re potentially dating or hooked up with up. There’s a casual comment from the commentator about how they wouldn’t mind being a third.

The kids hang it over each other’s head anytime something happens. Jason would vote Diana but thinks she’s too good for Bruce so he’s with Damian in the Triple Parent team. Dick is with Clark and always has been. As a bit they do also say Batman isn’t any good for their parents, knowing that Batman is literally one of their parents.

[jesncin]

MAWS’s outfit designs are weird because, despite being a cartoon, seems to be influenced by considerations of live-action adaptation. Only the main superhero can have his outfit look as colorful in the comics- every other person must have “tactical” “realistic” outfits that wouldn’t look out of place in a Zack Snyder film. It’s asking the audience too much to accept different origins for superpowers/tech- they must have 1 single origin as if we have to fit this all in a 90 min origin film.

I don't think this is the case, especially since MAWS as a show posits itself as a rebuttal to the Snyderverse, with their version of Clark being optimistic! Cutesy! Red Underwear! Smiles More, etc (though I would argue in their contrarian approach to this they only ended up repeating a lot of Synderverse mistakes). We have characters like Mxy, who are suited for animation more than live action- and not forced to be a grounded concept. Even mech characters like Parasite transform into Godzilla later on. Keep in mind that the MAWS crew do keep mentioning in promotion that they had very little pushback and were encouraged to do whatever they wanted with Superman lore. That's why the origins are so out of the box for the rogues.

The simplest reasoning is probably the truest one: the showrunner, Jake Wyatt, is really into mechs and robots. He co-created Peni Parker. It's expected that when given the choice, he would turn all the characters in MAWS into robots or robo-adjacent mech stuff. As for the rogues having the same origin? Honestly he probably thought he was being cool for combining all the origins into a bigger plot instead of letting the villains individually carry their own themes. It's a failure of creativity. He's also a weeb in a very American way cough-

[amadouers]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here, are you? i figured because you totally just missed milena “mila” bukowski walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who she is ? they kind of look like savannah lee smith and i could be wrong but i think that they might be 26 years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last 2 years. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of jackie burkhart from the 70s show. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at cove wellness center as a receptionist. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the airhead of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty materialistic at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty vivacious to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that 2 bedroom apartment beside me over in sunny shores. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

statistics  .

full name: milena grace bukowski nickname(s): mila, miley age: 26 years old date of birth: august 10th, 1998 hometown: miami, florida living arrangement: sunset villas #2b, sunny shores sexuality: heterosexual occupation: receptionist @ cove wellness center

biography  .

born and raised in miami, but visited palmview during summer break to spend time with her grandpa. mila had a close relationship with him, who often spoiled her rotten growing up. not that her parents didn’t (being the youngest of two siblings made it easy for mila to be the favorite, but they often reminded her that it’s important to stay humble), but she totally got grandpa wrapped around her little finger and anything mila wants, mila gets.

she had it easy for the most part  –  everything had been spoon fed to her since day one so she never had to worry about a thing, which made her come off as shallow and conceited. still, people find her endearing, for that she was never a mean girl despite being a part of the popular crowds at school, having joined the cheerleading team since she was a freshman.

(death tw) her grandpa passed away right before her high school graduation. it took her a while to get over his death, but her parents had been there for her throughout it all. mila stopped visiting palmview since then and stayed in miami with her family, only moving to california when she’s ready for college.

just like in school, mila was thriving in college. maybe not academic wise, but she’s able to make the most of her time there. after all it was daddy dearest’s wish to have her attend his alma mater, and mila only obliged because what else what she supposed to do? most of her friends were going anyways, so she decided she’d go for the experience.

she moved back to miami once she graduated. her parents let her stay for a bit, but eventually suggested that she should learn to be independent now that she’s old enough. mila knew her parents meant well, and although she didn’t like the idea of having to do things by herself, she finally made up her mind and moved to palmview in an attempt to be independent.

it was her brother who fueled the need to prove herself  –  something about the way mila couldn’t survive without her parents’ help  –  so she could rub it in his face and tell him that he’s wrong when she finally made it on her own (granted, she’s struggling, but there’s no way mila would let it show so she powers through like the big girl she knows she is). it’s why she chose palmview in the first place, knowing that the familiarity of the place and its people would make it easier to get by.

connections  .

best friends with noa braunstein and nell mason

former best friends on rekindling phase with lana barsi

close friends with marley clark and winona morris

friends with alyssa lockhart, daniel de luca, dustin de luca, poppy nolan, charlotte james, celeste james

unlikely friends with clementine shephard and maeve finnegan

[mdhwrites]

Why Can’t Clark Kent Control His Strength?

TL:DR: This Supes is only NOW starting to actually get used to his powers. He spent years fearing them and so when his nerves are high, he doesn’t have control because he used to be purely afraid of them. Afraid of what this other side of him can do and what it might do to others, despite his nature meaning that naturally he wouldn’t harm a fly which is a GREAT bit of characterization to go with the seemingly main theme of the show of “Who am I?” Who is Clark Kent, especially as he figures out who Superman is as well.

Spoilers for the first two episodes of My Adventures with Superman:

So this has been one of the topics I’ve seen thrown around about My Adventures with Superman (MAWS). In the first episode we get a couple cute and silly moments of Clark not quite controlling his strength and breaking something. He breaks his alarm clock when he wakes up, is practicing on his sink how to shake hands with Perry White before Jimmy yells at him, at which point he breaks it and then he also tears off the handle to a push door when he tries to pull on it.

However, the first scene of the show lets us know that probably around ten, and he’s probably in his early twenties during the current day, he gains his powers. That’s a LONG time to go without mastering your powers or at least being 98% in control. So what gives? Is this just a throwback to other superheroes? Just a cute gag? What?

Well first... He is 98% in control. Most of the time he doesn’t have any issues with his powers because when he’s not thinking about them or relaxed, they’re fine. In fact, in two episodes we’ve really only gotten this montage showing Clark not having control over his super strength... And only his super strength which actually makes a lot of sense, at least for Clark. Yes, he doesn’t want to be caught and superspeed would ruin his identity... But the strength hurts people.

And this Clark Kent doesn’t do that. Period. In fact, helping is so ingrained into his being that using his powers to help others is the most natural thing he can do. We see this with saving the cat, which he does fine, and we see it when at the end of the first episode, he has to rush out of nowhere to push Jimmy aside before a giant robot can kill him. Is Jimmy even hurt? Nope.

Because it’s natural to Clark. His body IS adapted to his powers, his mind just isn’t. So when he’s not thinking, not worried or doing what comes naturally to him, the powers don’t go out of control. They are perfectly fine for him and he can do what is necessary to help others.

And this actually makes a LOT of sense with how episode 2 begins. Episode 2 shows us that when he tried to get answers as a young boy, those answers almost hurt his parents. Not only that but scared the ever living shit out of him at the same time, reducing him to tears and never wanting to see the pod again, at least until as an adult he sees the true good, and potentially the necessity, of these powers. With that as context... Why the fuck would he have trained? Why would he be 100% with his powers? He has avoided using them as much as possible for over a DECADE.

So here comes one of the most important days of his life, he’s only just woken up, and he’s trying to calm himself. So he puts a little too much oomph in turning off his clock. When his buddy distracts, he yanks on the thing he was holding. When he forgets which way a door to a gas station opens, he accidentally puts too much strength into it. Buuuuut he doesn’t saving a cat because that’s how natural saving people is to him.

And this plays into the question posed three times in the first two episodes: “Who am I?” Clark doesn’t see these powers as an extension of himself yet. They are the scary specter that makes him abnormal. That makes him potentially hurt people if he messes up, or scare them with his oddity. Superman is not a part of who he is yet, even though who Clark Kent is is exactly why Superman exists at all as the paragon he normally is.

Could it just be for the gag? Absolutely. A good, lighthearted way to introduce Clark, and even have a parallel gag with Lois failing to turn off her alarm, while also implying that Clark is early in his powers and strength. That plays into the concept of the show and is charming. But I like that it can be read in a way that plays into the greater thesis and really emphasizes how this writing team is tackling early Superman.

And I think that’s super personally.

=======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[triscribeaucollection]

JLU plays W&W

“You can’t be serious.”

“Sure I can,” Clark grinned. “Come on, we’ve all been meaning to spend time with each other off the clock, so why not schedule a game night? At least once a month.”

“That part I understand,” Bruce rumbled, perched in the monitor station’s chair and not bothering to look over his shoulder. “But a roleplaying game?”

“I thought you of all people might enjoy that.”

“Hn.”

“At least look over the game itself before you come to a decision, alright? Most of the pre-made campaigns feature mysteries for players to investigate, and the rules are pretty quick to pick up. I had to explain tabletop RPGs to J’onn and Diana, but they’re both interested, and Wally said yes even before I finished speaking...”

His grin grew wider as Bruce let out a small, almost unnoticeable sigh. “What’s it called.”

“Wolfen and Warlocks,” Clark told him, and blinked when his friend’s fingers paused on the keyboard. “It’s based on this book series called Stories From Sarant - I picked the box up off the shelf because I remembered reading the first one when I was in middle school-”

“Wolfen’s Rage,” Bruce said softly, and then it became Clark’s turn to pause. “I’m familiar.”

Despite giving him a moment, the other man didn’t add anything else. Feeling a little more cautious, Clark went on, “Well, I still need to check with John and Shayera, but so far I’m thinking next Thursday? We can use our usual meeting room here, or get one of the smaller rec halls, or I could host at my apartment in Metropolis.”

His friend grunted, hands once more tapping across the station controls. “Watchtower would be better in case there’s an emergency. And then you wouldn’t have to cater.”

“True.” Clark let his head tip to one side, half wishing (not for the first time) that his x-ray vision would let him see the thoughts inside people’s heads, and not just their physical brain tissue. “Well, in that case, I’ll get you the introductory player’s guide to look over beforehand. I figured we could all roll up some characters together, maybe play a sample encounter to get a feel for things before we schedule a full campaign run.”

Another grunt. Slightly lighter, though, which he took to mean yes, fine, now go away and let me work.

“Alright, then. See you later, Bruce.”

---

Thursday rolled around, and Clark fully expected to need to engage in more careful cajoling to bring all six of his oldest teammates into the recreation room he’d reserved for the afternoon. Instead, he got to feel pleasantly surprised, walking through the door with J’onn to find Bruce, Diana, John and Shayera all present, Wally zipping in on his heels with an armful of snacks. 

“What?” The speedster asked, when a few eyebrows were raised in his direction. “You can’t have a game session without junk food!”

Clark started setting things up with a small smile, listening as the others teased and bickered with one another. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time all seven of them settled in the same space that wasn’t their private meeting room to discuss League matters - if the game worked out and became a regular thing, he’d have to thank his Pa again for the idea.

“Alright,” he eventually called, sliding paper and freshly sharpened pencils around the table. “You all looked over at least the intro booklet, right? Who wants to start with what they’ve got in mind for a character?”

“Goblin,” Wally immediately said. “I’m gonna call him Bert, but with a ‘y’!”

Clark dutifully wrote down Goblin, Byrt

“I think I’d like to try a minotaur,” Diana went next. “With a background in hand to hand combat.”

Minotaur went a line below Wally’s goblin, even as Clark said, “Remember this is a chance to experiment with being someone other than ourselves, guys.”

“Whoops,” Shayera said in a dry tone. When Clark raised his eyebrows, she shrugged. “I want to play a harpy.”

Wally promptly choked on his mouthful of potato chips, and John snorted. “Let me guess, with a mace and some of those Close Combat moves?”

“The level one inventory options don’t have a mace,” the Thanagarian huffed. “I picked the heavy walking staff, instead.”

“That’s still impact damage-”

“And what did you want to play, Stewart?”

For a brief moment, John looked embarrassed, before doubling down into a stubborn scowl. “Human. With elemental magic.”

Shayera immediately leaned forward, elbow braced on the table and hand tucked below her chin, smirking. “Light magic?”

“Look, the Break of Dawn and Gleaming Prison spells-”

“I have decided to create an anonian character,” J’onn cut in, thankfully before the pair of exes could really get rolling. “One of the Forest type, with an innate paralytic touch ability.”

“And also green scales, if I remember right,” Clark couldn’t help but say, even as he added to the list with a renewed grin: Harpy, Human, Anonian (Dragon-folk)

“I think I’d like to know what you’ve chosen for yourself before you throw any further stones, Clark.” Diana folded her arms with an expectant expression.

“Orc,” he promptly shot back.

“Which kind,” Bruce rumbled from his seat.

Ah. Well. “...meckle orc.”

His friend smirked. “So a farmer, then.”

“What’s your choice,” Clark asked instead of answering, ignoring how some of the others snickered. Bruce’s smirk stayed in place as he produced a short stack of index cards from his utility belt, each covered with scribbled notes. He plucked off the top one and held it out, letting Clark see- “A fairy?”

“Based off the moth species melanodes anthracitaria,” Bruce somehow said with utter sincerity, even as John coughed to hide his amusement and Wally let out an almost inhuman wheeze. A small square photograph came out of the stack of notes, paperclipped to a card with a simple sketch of a humanoid figure with wings the same shape as the real moth. Black, of course, with silver-grey markings. “His name is Thomarwyn. I’ve done some research on the novels and put together a basic background and family history in line with what the author’s written about her various cultures.”

“Size category, Tiny,” Shayera read from her copy of the intro player’s guide, lips slowly curling up into a wicked smile. “Not going to be able to punch very many bad guys when you’re only two feet tall.”

“No, but I’ll be able to get in and out of places the rest of you won’t.”

And that was when it clicked for Clark. “You’ve made him a detective, haven’t you?”

“Hn.”

On the other side of the table, Wally got enough breath back to say, “Bat-Moth!” And promptly start wheezing with laughter again.

---

(I've been giggling non-stop since coming up with this idea yesterday; first five pages are written and will probably get posted to my AO3 account sometime this week while I work on more. And yes, Wolfen & Warlocks is a real game in beta-testing mode created by yours truly - when I don't have very many people to help me try it out, I figure the next best thing is to toss it to some fictional characters to see what shenanigans they can come up with!)

[nerdzzone]

Worlds Apart

Chapter Three

Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?

Series Masterlist

-----

To say that Bridget was nervous would be an understatement.

She knew that there was really no need to be - she’d already been in Chris’ company several times and they’d spent almost the entire day together on Saturday as he helped her paint her house - but there was something different about the fact that he was taking her on an official date. Even though he’d done nothing to encourage any stress, she felt like there was more pressure on the evening ahead of her than any other time they’d spent together. She was amazed that he’d even wanted to take her out and she knew that she wouldn’t be getting another invitation any time soon if she blew it.

She was trying not to worry too much as she’d clearly already made a decent enough impression to have him willing to go out with her in the first place, but it lingered in her mind just how different their lives were. “I think you’re pretty great” had been his response when she’d called herself boring, but while she had been half-joking, it was a valid concern. He was a movie star. His life was - at least some of the time - filled with the glamour of Hollywood, parties with some of the most famous people on the planet, and attending events that she had only ever watched on television from the comfort of her couch. Whereas she spent most of her time surrounded by books, trying to coax children into discovering the joy of reading or hanging out with her four year old. She was content with her life, but it was wildly different to his and she was skeptical that once he realized just how ordinary she was that he would still disagree with her use of the word ‘boring’.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror of the staff room bathroom at the library didn’t give her any extra confidence. Considering she was meeting him straight after she was done at work, she hadn’t had time to change. She’d planned her outfit for the day with the knowledge that she would be seeing him after, but she had to keep it practical for the library too and as she looked herself over she wondered if she’d made the wrong choice. She looked nice enough in the black turtleneck sweater and black jeans that she’d picked out and paired with her long black coat so she would be warm enough if they happened to be walking any distance, but the simplicity only added to her fear of being unremarkable.

However, she didn’t have time to go home and change so she knew there was nothing to be done about it and while she wanted to make a good impression and show the best of herself to Chris, she wasn’t really willing to put on much of an act to entice him. If the mundanity of her life wasn’t something he could accept then she figured it was better to know that sooner rather than later.

Pulling her out of her thoughts, her phone vibrated on the counter next to the sink as a message from Chris popped up on the screen.

Hey, I’m outside!

It sent a flicker of nervous excitement down her spine and after giving her hair one last tousle to make sure it looked okay, she hurried out to meet him and found him leaning against one of the pillars outside the main door. It was amazing how well he really could blend in and go unnoticed as people wandered by him without batting an eye - especially when he caught her attention so quickly. Of course, she had been looking for him, but he looked so handsome that she was surprised that anyone could pass by without being distracted by him.

“Hi,” he greeted her as he noticed her approaching him. “Wow, you look great.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” she informed him, matching the smile on his face. “But I hope we’re not going anywhere too fancy, my work clothes might not be up to five star standard.”

“Wow, five star on the first date?” Chris raised an eyebrow as his smile shifted into a smirk. “You have high expectations.”

“I really don’t,” she assured him. “I’m not really ever a five star kinda girl. I prefer to stick to the cheap stuff so I don’t get a taste for finer things than I can afford.”

Her words were said with an air of jest and Chris chuckled as he shrugged his shoulders.

“The finer things usually aren’t worth the price,” he admitted. “But how about we go for something in the middle? Is Italian okay?”

“Yeah, Italian sounds great.”

“Perfect,” Chris nodded before leading her down the path towards the main road. “I know a place nearby. The food is great and I trust them to be discreet.”

“Oh, you trust them? Is this where you take all your other dates too?”

“There you go again, making your assumptions.” Chris playfully rolled his eyes and Bridget bit back a grin as he sarcastically replied, “Yeah, I’m there every month for a new first date.”

“I knew it,” Bridget let out a dramatic sigh. “At least you must know what to order by now, I guess.”

“I can recommend a few things,” he chuckled with a nod. “But pretty much everything they have is a safe bet.”

Trusting his judgement, Bridget felt another flush of excitement - this time from the thought of getting to know her new town. Spending time with Chris was obviously the best part of the evening, but after living there for almost two months, she was happy to finally be finding some nice local places to enjoy. She’d had several recommendations from her co-workers, but she’d been so busy settling into her new house and her new job that socialising had taken a bit of a back seat. So, as Chris held open the door to the busy restaurant and she was hit by the mouthwatering smell of unmistakably Italian food, she felt a renewed sense of gratitude that he’d suggested their date.

As promised, the staff were happy to be discreet and quickly led them to a table towards the back of the room - away from most of the prying eyes of the seating area and anyone waiting to be seated - and after a quick browse of the menu Chris ordered them each a glass of wine and a serving of his favourite pasta dish. They made small talk as they waited with Chris asking about how her work day had been, but once their drinks arrived they moved onto more personal things.

“This is my Ma’s favourite wine,” he informed her when she complimented his choice. “I usually order it whenever I see it on a menu.”

“She has good taste,” Bridget commended. “I normally lean towards white wine over red, but this one’s really nice!”

“She does have good taste, she’s a wise woman.”

The affection in Chris’ voice rang out clearly and his obvious love for her tugged on Bridget’s heart.

“You seem really close to your family,” she observed as she sipped her wine. “At least, with your sister and your mom.”

“I am,” Chris nodded, even though the smile that slid onto his face would have been answer enough. “We’re all very close. Carly’s my older sister, but I have a younger one too and a younger brother. We all try to get together as often as we can.”

There was a pang of jealousy in her stomach, but Bridget forced it down as she matched his smile.

“That’s really nice. What about your dad?”

“We’re close too, but my parents are divorced and I don’t see him quite as often as I see my Ma,” he admitted. “But what about you? Are you close with your family?”

“Not really,” Bridget shrugged, hesitating slightly as she knew a more accurate answer would have been ‘no, not at all’. “My dad’s a surgeon, my mom’s a lawyer, and I was an accident. They really didn’t have much time for me with their busy careers.”

She kept her tone nonchalant despite the heaviness to what she was saying. It was something she’d accepted long ago and while the distance between her and her parents still stung, it wasn’t something she was eager to dive into on the first date.

“That’s rough,” Chris frowned. “Any siblings?”

“Yeah, one brother,” she informed him. “But he’s thirteen years older than me which is probably another reason why my parents struggled with me. They’d already done the whole kid thing by the time I arrived.”

“That seems a little unfair to you…”

“I always thought so,” Bridget agreed with a sad smile. “But Gavin - my brother - always tried to be supportive so we kept in touch and we’ve been trying to get closer over the last few years. And my best friend Molly is like a sister to me. We’ve known each other since we were ten so her and her husband are like family now.”

“Sometimes the family that you make yourself is just as good as the one you’re born with,” Chris mused wisely. “Some of my best friends I’ve known since I was a kid too and they’re just as much like family as my real brothers and sisters.”

“That’s really sweet, I think those relationships can be just as important as family,” Bridget nodded. “It’s good to have people who choose to stick around because they really love you and not just because they’re family.”

Having just discussed how Chris was close to his family, she knew he could easily argue that not all families only stick together out of some sense of obligation, but she resisted the urge to blurt out a quick clarification and was relieved when he voiced his agreement.

“Absolutely,” he insisted as a soft smirk slipped onto his face. “And they can help in ways your family might not want to, my lifelong friends are the best at keeping me humble. They’re always quick to crack jokes or remind me about some of my more embarrassing moments if my ego starts getting too big.”

“Wow,” Bridget smiled. “That must be a full time job for them.”

Chris chuckled and shook his head at her teasing dig.

“Nah, it’s more of a hobby,” he insisted. “They get too much joy out of it for it to be considered work.”

“That’s a fair point,” Bridget giggled. “But it’s good that you have people like that, we all need people who just see through everything else and know us for who we really are.”

“Oh, for sure, and I give as much as I get so it all works out,” Chris agreed before shifting the conversation back to her. “So, does Molly live nearby?”

Bridget couldn’t hold back the grin that slid onto her face at the opportunity to talk about her friend and eagerly explained that Molly did live fairly close as she lived in the downtown area of Boston, but that she was hoping to convince her to embrace the small town life as well. Their food arrived and briefly interrupted the conversation, but after thanking the waiter and taking a moment to taste the food - and compliment Chris for the amazing recommendation - Bridget circled back to what she was saying by adding that she was hopeful that her friend would be more willing to leave the big city life behind when she was ready to have kids.

“Is that why you wanted to get out of the city?” Chris asked. “Because of Landon?”

“That was the biggest reason,” Bridget nodded. “Part of it was selfish - because I was just tired of all the noise and chaos - but it does give him so much more freedom. I love that we have a backyard and there’s so many outdoor places we can explore.”

“There’s a lot of great places to hike around here, I can show you a few of them sometime if you’d like,” Chris offered, earning an enthusiastic nod from Bridget. “But what about Landon? Does he like it here so far?”

“I think so,” Bridget smiled. “I don’t think he’s noticed a huge change, but he seems pretty happy here.”

“That’s great, he seems like a really good kid.”

“He is,” Bridget agreed, her pride shining through in her voice as she was unable to resist gushing about the child she’d been missing all week. “We got really lucky with him. He’s just so much fun and I genuinely love spending time with him. He can be a little wild - he’s definitely a super high energy kid - but he’s smart and funny and always super enthusiastic about whatever activity he’s doing.”

“Sounds like Little League will be perfect for him then,” Chris chuckled. “Has he started yet?”

“No, it starts next week, but he’s so excited. He set up bases in our backyard and was practicing running around them. He’s actually pretty fast so as long as he can actually hit the ball, I think he might be pretty good at it.”

“Hitting the ball is the hardest part,” Chris nodded before admitting, “It was my downfall when it came to baseball.”

“It is a pretty key element,” Bridget giggled before confessing, “Sports are definitely not a natural talent for me though, so any skill that Landon has will have to be credited to his dad.” 

“It’s not something that everyone is cut out for,” Chris shrugged. “I think I tried most of them when I was younger, but nothing really stuck. As far as hobbies go, I was always way more into the acting and musical theatre side of things - just to give you a clear idea of how cool I was.”

His words were said with a self-deprecating chuckle, but Bridget leapt to his defense.

“Hey, you’re talking to someone who spent at least seventy-five percent of her teenage years reading in a library,” she reminded him. “Musical theatre is my kind of cool.”

“Not many people agree,” Chris smiled. “So I appreciate that.”

“Well, I bet people think it’s cool now that you’re such a big star,” Bridget teased. “Did you always know you wanted to be an actor?”

Chris happily launched into an explanation of how his career came to be and the passion in his voice had Bridget feeling relieved. It was a question that she was sure he’d answered a million times in various interviews over the years so while it was something that she would rather hear from him than read on the internet, she expected it to be a topic that he was tired of discussing. However, the enthusiasm he spoke with pushed any doubts out of her mind as she was engrossed in his answer and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at the success he’d found after getting started by simply working hard and chasing after his dream.

For the rest of their meal, the conversation flowed just as well as it had at the start. Bridget was surprised by how easy Chris was to talk to, especially considering she usually thought of herself as awkward and overly self-aware around people she didn’t know. But with Chris, it was like she’d known him for far longer than the couple of months that she had through their brief encounters. He put her at ease and charmed her with his humour and beautiful smile and made her reluctant for things to come to an end as they finished their main course. That was why she had another suggestion when Chris asked if she would be interested in splitting a dessert.

“There’s an ice cream place just around the corner that I’ve been wanting to try,” Bridget admitted. “But I know it’s still kinda cold so feel free to tell me that it’s a dumb idea…”

“I don’t think ice cream is ever a dumb idea,” Chris insisted. “Especially when I know the place you’re talking about and know how good their ice cream is.”

“Really?” Bridget eyed him suspiciously, feeling like a child as she didn’t want to get her hopes up too high. “Even though it’s like forty degrees outside?”

“Trust me, that ice cream is worth the risk of frostbite.”

The sincerity in his voice had a laugh slipping from Bridget’s lips as he flagged down the waiter to get their bill. They bickered briefly over who was going to pay, but even though she was more than happy to pay her share, Bridget quickly relented knowing that there wasn’t much chance that Chris was going to let her contribute. She settled for simply thanking him profusely and insisted that dessert was on her to which Chris reluctantly agreed as he followed her out of the restaurant.

The ice cream parlour really was just around the corner and only took them a few short minutes to walk to. If the surprisingly large number of customers inside was anything to go by then Chris was right about it being worth the risk of frostbite because it seemed half the town had the same idea that they’d had. Despite Chris’ general level of comfort in his hometown, Bridget could see the increase in tension as he pulled the collar of his coat up a little higher and seemed more aware of his surroundings than he’d been throughout the earlier part of their evening so - considering it was such a clear and calm evening - she suggested they take their dessert to go and enjoy the beginnings of spring.

“I still can’t get over how many stars there are out here,” she mused as they strolled down the sidewalk. “I mean, there’s probably as many stars in the city but there’s always too many lights to see them. I never noticed what we were missing until we moved here.”

“It is pretty spectacular,” Chris agreed as he licked a drip off the side of his cone. “I get lost looking up at it all sometimes. It’s pretty humbling to know we’re so small in such a vast universe.”

“It’s terrifying,” Bridget corrected, earning a chuckle from Chris.

“Not a fan of space?”

“Not really,” she wrinkled her nose. “It kinda freaks me out, if I’m being honest. I’m very happy staying safely down here on Earth and doing all my space adventuring through books.”

“It can be a little overwhelming to think about everything that might be out there,” Chris admitted. “But I’d love to go if I ever got the chance. I’m kind of a huge space nerd so it’s like the ultimate dream.”

“Well, you’re braver than I am,” Bridget conceded. “But if you ever do get the chance and you’re allowed to bring a partner then I’m sure Landon would be more than happy to keep you company.”

“Yeah? Is he into space?”

“Recently, he is, yeah,” Bridget nodded. “We watched Toy Story for the first time a few weeks ago and he fell in love with Buzz Lightyear so we spent almost all our free time that week learning about astronauts.”

“That’s really cool!” For a moment, Bridget thought his words were sarcastic, but when she glanced over at him she could see the intrigue sparkling in his eyes. “I remember how amazed I was when I first learned about all the other planets and everything that might be out there, it must be great to get to watch your own kid go through those mind blowing moments.”

There was an awe in his voice, mixed with a hint of longing that tugged at Bridget’s heart. Introducing Landon to all the fascinating things in the world was one of the joys of parenting, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that she would have expected a bachelor like Chris to be so interested in. It was such a simple observation, but it just solidified Bridget’s belief that there was more to the man beside her than being the Hollywood hotshot that she’d assumed he’d be before she got to know him.

“It really is, it can be pretty magical,” Bridget agreed. “But my knowledge is limited, I think he was a little disappointed. If you wanna come over some time and share in his space excitement then please, feel free.”

Chris seemed a little surprised by her offer and she realized that they hadn’t had any kind of conversation about how Landon would come into the mix if they were to continue seeing each other. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she worried she’d overstepped, but Chris jumped in before she could backtrack.

“I’d really like that,” he informed her, flashing her a smile that he quickly hid behind what was left of his ice cream. “Has he ever been to the planetarium? I haven’t been in years, but it’s a really interesting place.”

“He hasn’t been, but I bet he’d love it. We should go sometime.”

“That would be really fun.”

He sounded so genuine that Bridget couldn’t hold back the grin that slid onto her face as her heart fluttered in her chest. It was such a relief to her that the idea of doing things with Landon wasn’t something that pushed Chris away. Even though it wasn’t something she was eager to admit, their date that night was her first foray into dating since Landon was born and she’d often worried through the years that he would be a hurdle not many men would be willing to overcome. She’d been clear when he asked her out that Landon would always be a priority to her, but hearing that Chris was eager to make a connection with him as well did a lot to ease her anxiety.

They walked in silence for a couple of blocks as they enjoyed the quiet and the last of their dessert, but as they finished and threw their napkins in the closest garbage can, a shiver ran through Bridget’s body that she knew hadn’t escaped Chris’ notice. She’d tried to hide it - not wanting the cold to prematurely wind up their evening together - but she was pleasantly surprised when Chris held out his arm for her to hold and pulled her close against his side when she accepted the offer. She could feel the warmth radiating off of his body as their close proximity suddenly had a whiff of his lingering cologne surrounding her. She was so distracted by his intoxicating scent and the feel of the hard muscles under the sleeve of his jacket that she didn’t realized he’d asked her a question until she caught the questioning look he was giving her.

“Sorry, what?”

She cringed as the question fell from her lips, but she suddenly found it hard to think clearly.

“I asked where you parked,” Chris informed her, his amusement dancing in the smile on his face. “Is your car nearby?”

Bridget took a moment to take in their surroundings and puzzle out what block they were on before she came to a disappointing revelation.

“It’s pretty close,” she admitted. “Just across the street.”

She pointed in the direction they were already walking to the parking lot near the library. Chris nodded and continued to lead them down the sidewalk, but after another moment of silence, he spoke again. However, this time the nervous edge to his voice had Bridget feeling unsettled.

“So, there’s something I should tell you,” he admitted. “Something I probably should have mentioned before we went out tonight.”

“Hmm,” Bridget mused as she flashed him an anxious smile. “Well, that’s never good…”

“It’s probably not as ominous as I made it sound,” he admitted as they crossed the road and entered the parking lot. “But I have to go away for a while, I probably won’t be around much at all for the next couple months.”

She felt the knot forming in her stomach tighten as a wave of disappointment washed over her. He sounded genuine, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t enjoyed their evening as much as she had and was looking for a convenient way to get out of seeing her again any time soon.

“Where are you going?” She asked, hoping to sound unaffected by his admission before diving into her usual defense mechanism of cracking a joke as she added, “Are you sneaking off to see your secret family?”

Her question had Chris’ shoulders shaking as he chuckled and shook his head.

“I can be pretty discreet when I need to be, but I’m not sure that I could hide a secret wife and kids,” he pointed out before giving her the real explanation. “I have to go to L.A. for the premiere of the new Captain America movie and after that we’re headed off on the international press tour. I should have told you sooner, but I lost track of how close it was and I was just really excited that you agreed to go out with me.”

There was a sheepishness to his confession that had Bridget relaxing slightly despite the fact that his news was still disheartening even if his reasoning was understandable. It was bad timing considering they barely even had a solid friendship established before he had to disappear, but the fact that he seemed as displeased about it as she was did at least give her some hope. She took a moment to take in his explanation until they made it to her car and she leaned back against the hood as she nodded her head.

“That’s okay,” she assured him. “I have to admit that I’ll miss you since I’ve gotten kinda used to running into you around town, but we’re supposed to be taking things slow anyway, right?”

Of course, she hadn’t meant one date every two months when she’d requested that they ease into things, but a little bit of distance certainly wouldn’t hurt their attempts to pace themselves. As long as they could stay in touch, it could provide a good way for them to get to know each other in other ways before they got too romantic. However, the way Chris leaned in and rested his hand on the hood of her car by her hip as he left only a few inches of space between their bodies had her suddenly wondering why she’d ever decided they shouldn’t just fall into bed together.

“I’ve been wondering about that,” he admitted, his voice suddenly low and huskier than it had been moments before. “How slow is ‘slow’ exactly? Am I allowed to kiss you?”

Bridget felt her breath catch in her chest as the question had her tracing her tongue along her lips until she managed to gather herself enough to nod her head.

“I think that would count as slow,” she decided, glancing up at him from under her long eyelashes. “Especially since you’re going away for months, one kiss before that seems pretty reasonable to me.”

“I thought so,” Chris smirked, lifting a hand to cup her chin and tilt it up towards him. “But I thought it was polite to check first.”

Before Bridget could get another word out, he closed the space between them to press his lips against hers. Immediately, she melted against him as her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to relax enough to let herself do what came naturally. It had been an embarrassingly long time since she’d been kissed at all and she doubted if she’d ever been kissed with as much carefully measured skill as Chris was currently using, but she knew that overthinking it wouldn’t help. Luckily, thinking at all was not an easy task as the way Chris’ lips moved against hers had her in a daze. Her hands gripped at his shirt like she was scared he was going to disappear and when he finally pulled away she felt herself chasing his lips for a brief moment until she regained a little bit of sense.

Letting out a quiet hum, she slowly opened her eyes to meet his as he rested his forehead against hers.

“That was…nice.”

It was a weak way to describe the moment they’d just shared, but his lips had left her too stunned to think of any more descriptive words and he chuckled at her obviously distracted state.

“It was nice,” he agreed. “Hopefully it’ll be enough to keep me on your mind while I’m away.”

“I think it’ll do the trick,” Bridget nodded as a soft smile slid onto her face. “But will I be able to reach you at all while you’re gone?”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll have my phone with me even when we go to other countries.” However, his eager assurance was followed by a grimace as he took a step back, reluctantly moving his body away from hers. “But I’ll be honest, I might not be great at answering. The press days are long and pretty exhausting so with the time difference getting in the way too, it can be difficult.”

Reading between the lines of his answer, Bridget felt her heart sink.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to bug you,” she assured him, hoping he couldn’t hear the disappointment in her voice. “I know you’ll be working, I don’t want to distract you.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant,” he quickly insisted, the shock in his voice easing her concern. “I’d love the distraction, just wanted to warn you so you don’t think I’m being a dick if I don’t answer as fast as I should.”

He flashed her a smirk that had all the doubts sliding from her mind as a smile of her own slid onto her face.

“Okay, well, I promise not to hold it against you if you ignore me because you’re too busy being adored by your millions of fans.” Her tone was teasing and earned an eye roll from Chris before she asked, “When do you leave?”

“Friday.”

The word fell from his lips as a sigh and Bridget realized that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again before he left. There was another wave of disappointment, but she tried to look on the bright side.

“Well, I’m glad we got to do this before you leave.”

“Me too,” Chris smiled. “I had a really great time tonight.”

Bridget agreed as she pulled her car keys out of her purse and after another quick hug and a kiss on her cheek, she found herself climbing into her car feeling a little bittersweet.

The date had gone well - better than Bridget had even let herself expect it would - but the knowledge that she wouldn’t be seeing him for at least the next couple of months was a stark reminder of why she needed not to get ahead of herself. It was easy to get swept up in anyone at the start when everything is new and exciting, things are carefree and no one’s baggage has started to interfere. Dating someone as charismatic and attractive as Chris, it was even easier to let her heart run away before her head could catch up and while Bridget would admit that she had begun to let herself wonder what the future might look like if they kept seeing each other, his time away might provide the perfect opportunity for her to make sure she’s keeping a level head.

After their date, she knew he was something she wanted to pursue, but she knew she needed to take some time to think about what that might look like and if it was realistically something that could work. That is, if Chris was even still interested after he spent the next few months touring around the world with all his Hollywood pals with no time to think about her.

But Bridget tried to push all the negative thoughts from her mind and as she drove out of the parking lot - waving to Chris in her rearview mirror - she let her mind linger on the way the heat had pooled in her stomach as he kissed her and her heart fluttered every time he laughed. He made her feel giddy and giggly in a way that she hadn’t in a very long time and she had a feeling that spending more time with him could lead to something that was worth a little risk.

[lealdern]

How To Stay Conscious When You Drown Ch2

Explicit content further on: Minors please DNI.

Dick x Reader She/her reader AO3 Link

First - Next Chapter

Summary: Dick Grayson is going through hard times, you see that on his face before you even know his name. You reach out a hand to offer comfort without realising he’s a man treading water.

Chapter 2: Home

That first time you sat together in the coffee shop was the first of a few times where you both found respite inside of the warm café. At first it was pure coincidence that you or Dick would be in there when the other turned up. Some days you’d stayed in your seat just a little longer, cradling the cooling mug just in case he walked through the door with the sound of a bell above his head and his blue eyes scanning the room to find you there, but most times he didn’t.

You wouldn’t know but sometimes he did the same, lingering just in case today would be a day when your paths crossed without the awkwardness of wanting to text you to see if you wanted to meet up.

The times you did cross paths the sun was low and heavy in the sky, like a ripe orange on a branch. The sunset filled the café for a short while, before passing between two tall buildings further inward of the city.

You’d always have a baked good sitting waiting, but the thing he looked forward to most of all was the easy smile you had for him.

There was something about his life, the way he lives, Dick thinks, that has him with his guard up all the time, even when it doesn’t need to be. That smile though? It’s disarming. He feels his soul put down its weapons, almost wearily, as he slumps into the seat opposite you with a gentle, “hey,” and the sound of a wrapper being opened as you ask him how he is.

Bathed in the hazy orange glow of the setting sun one evening he feels like you’ve found a crack in his wall and he can’t help but sigh.

“I’ve been… Fighting, with my- He was my guardian.”

“That sucks,” and honestly, it’s all he wanted to hear. Clark often tried to give advice erring on the side of giving Bruce leeway for being emotionally constipated, but Dick’s sick of doing that. He couldn’t go to Alfred without feeling guilty, without being on Bruce’s turf, and anyone else was too ready for gossip and pumped him for details that had him regretting he’d even said anything in the first place.

“Yeah… It does.” He takes a sip of his coffee as you tuck turn your hand on the table, soaking in the warmth of the setting sun that paints your palm amber.

“Is it a fight worth fighting?” you look up at him, “or is it that you’re both angry about something else altogether?” Dick thinks for a moment. He looks troubled, same as he did when you’d first seen him in this café those weeks ago. He looks tired.

“He just treats me like I don’t know what I’m doing,” there’s frustration in his voice, in his eyes as he stares down into his hot coffee, fingertip tapping on the side of his mug, “like he didn’t go off on his own when he was my age and try to find a cause, an identity of his own.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing when he was doing the same,” you tilt your head, the fading light of the sun on the horizon setting in the west sending splashes of colour through the loose strands. “and he thinks the same of you, because he doesn’t know otherwise,” Dick huffs and you give him a gentle smile.

“Every time I go home we just fight,” even now, a fair amount of years into being in Bludhaven full time he misses home, but sometimes he wonders if it’s the memory of what home was that he misses. When he walks through the halls of Wayne Manor it doesn’t feel the same as it used to even though nothing has changed.

Well… Maybe Dick has changed.

“If you went home, and he wasn’t there to fight with, would it still be home?” you ask over your mug as the last of the intense orange light of dusk kisses your skin before it fades.

Dick mulls over your words, turning them over in his mind in the companionable quiet. You watch him as he thinks, recalling how easily you could read him that first time you saw him, and now it’s much the same: There’s a softening that comes over his brow, through his eyes, the grip on his mug relaxing as his shoulders sag.

The hollow sound of your mug being placed on the table brings him out of his reverie and he realises he’d been quiet for a while, but now he feels lighter, less bothered.

“Let me walk you home.” He says, grabbing his coat after finishing the last generous mouthful of coffee.

“Alright.” You smile. He’s never asked before, you’ve just parted ways in the shop and linked up again some unset time. As the clouds above turn to cotton candy pink and finally grey you walk through Bludhaven. Conversation is relaxed now as Dick fills you in on the last couple of weeks, and you talk about your own as well until you come to a stop outside of your apartment building.

“So… Are you going home?” Dick knows you’re not asking him if he’s going back to his apartment, and there’s an open curious expression on your face that lets him know you won’t judge him either choice he makes. “Yeah, I’m going home.”

A/N: Like the others in this story this chapter was inspired by a song, this one was Far from home by Daniel Gad and Sal. I just wanted to expand on their relationship a bit more before it became more familiar. Updates Fridays (or Saturdays).

[wizardofahz]

WIP game:

I am curious about "A Question of Identity" and "Monsters in the Mirror" if you please. Thank you!

Sure thing! You picked some angsty fics to ask about. 😈

A Question of Identity is a WIP in which tragedy makes the Danvers sisters do a lot of assessing and rebuilding of their senses of self. I suppose it's kind of an alternate ending to season 3. I've posted a couple of sneak peeks in the past (1, 2), and here comes another one.

Kara hears the entrance of the Fortress of Solitude open. There’s only one other person who can open that door. For a moment she considers leaving. She doesn’t have the energy to interact with anyone. She doesn’t in the end. She also doesn’t have the energy to care if her lack of resolve worries Kal. “I thought I might find you here,” Kal says from behind her. Kara doesn’t bother turning around, just asks, “What do you want, Kal?”  “I wanted to see how you’re doing and to ask if there’s anything I can do,” he offers. Many people have offered Kara the abstract “anything.” It’s a nice sentiment, but Kara has found little solace in it thus far. “There’s nothing anyone can do.” “Kara,” Kal says as if there must be something he can do but quickly pauses when nothing comes to mind. The name elicits a laugh from her that surprises them both. Perhaps calling it a laugh is generous. It’s more of an escape of helpless emotion. Kara.  That’s her name.  But what does it mean? Is she Kara Zor-El? Is she Kara Danvers? Losing Krypton had been traumatic. In some ways though, the necessity of total reinvention had helped. Kara Danvers held little of the trauma of Kara Zor-El, no hints of alienness, invisible by design. It had only been in recent years between becoming Supergirl and a reporter that she had started to let the latter seep into the former. Who is Kara on Earth? Who is she without Alex?  Once upon a time, Kara thought about moving to Metropolis to be with Kal. Alex had protested being left behind. But Alex is gone now. Kara could move to Metropolis. But all she wants is Alex back, Alex who made this planet home. “There’s never been a Kara Danvers without Alex,” Kara says out loud.  The non sequitur has Kal looking confused. “There was only Kara Zor-El,” Kara continues and, without realizing it, switches to Kryptonian. “There is only Kara Zor-El, who has lost her family, her culture, her planet. Kara Zor-El, who does not exist on this Earth. Kara Zor-El never had an Alex Danvers. Except that’s not quite true, is it? Because Alex did know me. All of me.” Kara only realizes she’s switched to her native tongue when she looks at Kal El, looks at Clark Kent, who has only ever known this planet and looks apologetically lost. “Do you understand anything I am saying right now?” she asks. There’s no malice in her voice, only sadness. “I--” Clark begins sheepishly in English. “Only some of it. I’m sorry.”  “It’s not your fault,” Kara says tiredly because it isn’t.

Monsters in the Mirror is about guilt and facing the consequences of one's actions. It's set in season 2. I do have an old sneak peek, but to be honest, it could do with more editing. Here's a more updated sneak peek.

In her apartment, M'gann watches Alex pace back-and-forth, full of unsettled energy. In the end, it's no surprise when Alex changes course and heads for the door. “You know what? Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.” “Before you walk out that door--because if you really want to, I won’t stop you--I just want to say one thing," M'gann says. To her relief, Alex stops with her hand on the doorknob. She doesn't turn around, but M'gann senses hope that maybe her words of wisdom will make a difference. M'gann continues, “If you want to keep running, that’s your choice. But I don’t think you do. You came to me for a reason. You could have gone to Kara or J’onn. You know they would welcome you with open arms at any time"--at this, Alex's head dips in guilty acknowledgment--"but you came to me instead. Kara and J'onn know guilt, of course they do. But they know the guilt of surviving what has been done to them. You chose me because I know what it's like to live with the guilt of what I have done. So don’t tell me I won’t understand.” Alex slumps. She rests her head against the door. She stays like that for a while until she finally musters up the words. “I killed my dad,” Alex says quietly. M'gann wants to believe that she misheard. She knows enough about J'onn and the Danvers to know how important family is. No wonder Alex has been spiraling. M'gann waits for Alex to continue, knowing a break in momentum may mean the rest never comes at all. “I always knew that I would do anything to protect Kara. I just... I never thought that would mean killing other people that I love." Alex pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath. "And maybe the worst part"--She hesitates again. Clearly what's coming next is the part she really doesn't want to face--"is that I’d do it again. For Kara, I would. What does that say about me? If I’m capable of killing my dad, then what won’t I do? Who wouldn’t I hurt? J’onn? My mom?”

And thus ends our double dose of angst.

Thanks for the ask!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @my-perfect-storybook-love; the one where Kon is in the wrong Gotham, and so are a whole heck of a lot of other people.

The aid workers and Mallory’s parents come to an agreement, and they all come back for the Mallorys, who throw themselves at this reality’s version of their parents and cling to them. Their dad scoops them both up, and their mom puts her hands on the local Mallory’s shoulders. 

“Thank you,” their mom says to Kon, who doesn’t really know how to answer her. 

“No big,” he says. “I like kids.” 

He does not, actually. He doesn’t dislike them, they’re fine; he just doesn’t love them or anything. But he definitely, definitely knows how it feels being a stranger wearing someone else’s face and brand-new to a huge and intimidating world that you don’t know jack shit about. 

And he’s still a Super, wrong reality or not. Still can’t let people in need down, if there’s something he can do for them. 

The Mallorys and their parents go to check in properly, and one of the aid workers spares Kon a grateful smile and starts to open her mouth to say something, and then gets interrupted by a van pulling up to the parking lot a few yards away. 

That wouldn’t actually be an interruption, if not for the refugees being let out of it. 

Kon never knew Jon Kent when he was ten, but he’s seen pictures. He looks nervous and afraid, unlike all the photos of him grinning on Ma and Pa’s mantel and walls and in Clark and Lois’s apartment, and unlike the determined expression in the action shots the newspapers published a few times, but he’s still unmistakeable. 

And also, the kid takes one look at himand bolts right for him. 

“DAD!” Jon cries, and throws himself at him and his arms around his waist with definitely Kryptonian strength. Fuck, Kon thinks as he reflexively grabs onto the kid, and curses every single idiot at Cadmus who decided he had to look exactly like Clark. 

Then again, he guesses it’s better than looking like Lex, so never mind. 

Apparently this Jon is not from a reality with a Conner Kent in it, though, and now he’s got to explain himself to the kid without blowing Superman’s secret identity in the middle of a fucking interdimensional refugee camp, so fuck his life. 

“Sorry,” Jon mutters, flinching back. “Sorry, I know you’re not. I didn’t mean to–to call you–”

Thank fuck, Kon thinks in relief, then immediately switches into work-mode and scoops him up into his arms, stroking a hand down his back reassuringly. Okay, the kid does know him, then, he was just freaking out a bit. Kon doesn’t blame him. He is also freaking out a bit, personally.

Or more than a bit, maybe. 

“You’re okay, kiddo, I’ve got you,” he promises. “Are you hurt or anything?” 

Jon blinks twice, then just bursts into tears and clings to him, burying his face in his shoulder and shaking with sobs, and Kon immediately and instantly swears himself to full custody of his interdimensional . . . nephew, or whatever Jon technically is. Whatever, this kid is his kid until further notice. Who else is gonna take care of the only other Kryptonian-human hybrid in this refugee center anyway? 

Nobody, because Kon is not letting anybody else do it.

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals to Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Three - Dream Clark |

Pairings: Clark Kent x AfabBlackPlusSizedReader

Warnings: Smut (yes, I know, FINALLY), minors DNI, thirst, morally gray Clark, jealousy, dream sex, overstimulation, angst, breaking your own heart, sex toys, language, typos, hint at reader being plus size

As usual, say it with me now: If you don't like it, don't read it

“Why are you fuckin with me like this?” Clark all but groaned, the game now a distant memory in his mind.

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely just realizing your attempt at catching his attention was working. Ironically, long after you'd given up.

“Don’t play with me, mortal,” he softly snarled, dark eyes floating over the light yellow fabric of your night gown, the light of the television highlighting your thick silhouette under it. A small pair of lacy panties lay beneath it, daring him to rip them off. It wouldn’t take much. “I’m tryin to be a gentleman.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be.”

“Careful,” he warned again with a gravelly laugh, the silhouette of his own thickness settling atop his thigh, betraying his words. He was already horny, that was without saying. But whether or not he was about to bend you over and fuck you blind on your own sofa was what he was trying to determine. Or rather avoid. But fuck it. “C’mere.”

You hesitantly obeyed, approaching him and standing in front of him, truly not knowing how to give yourself to him. He pulled you forward by your hips to straddle him, which you seamlessly did, the soft buttery scent of your sugar cookie body wash tickling his senses. You were really going for it. Your heart was beating out of your chest, but you were holding your ground and going for it. He respected that. The annoying clamoring of the news program behind you distracted him for the last time, switched off with a simple flick of his thumb. Then it was quiet.

He let you squirm under his leering stare for a bit, watching you try to think of something to do or say in that moment. Much like a virgin trying to make use of herself during her first time. It was adorably sweet, something he’d have to make a mental note of later. Despite your put-together, tough, abrasive attitude, you were, at your core, awkward and nerdy. To see you thrown off was a rare treat. It made him impishly impatient. His grip on your ass tightened a bit.

“What? You thought I was gonna do all the talking? What do you want me to do? Use your words.”

You rolled your eyes at him, sitting back. “I mean. I dunno-“

“Yeah, you do. You're bossy as hell.”

“Shut up, you know I’m new to all this,” you laughed, unable to meet his eyes.

“I can’t lie. Shy is a cute look on you,” he snickered, guiding you to look at him, “Tell you what. I bet I can read your mind. You want me to take these off.” His broad hands slid under your panties, cupping the soft flesh of your ass once again.

“Mmhm.”

He breathed a laugh against your chest, dipping his head to peck it. The corruptor in him was incredibly pleased. You were adorably intimidated by him. As though you'd never known him before. He was the same alien you knew and loved. Your Clark. Your Superman. But you were shaking. Actually shaking on top of him. Nervous out of your mind. He shouldn't have been as delighted as he was and yet... Fuck. You felt small snaps at your sides and realized he'd just ripped the thin seams of your panties and was disposing of the wet scrap of fabric. Leaving nothing to stop you from making a generous mess on his slacks. His work slacks. His favorite work slacks. You were getting them dirty. Wet. Covered in your arousal for him. You bit your lip. Something in you loved it. It seemed to set him off, his hands lifting you with supernatural ease, as though you were a feather on his thighs. "Messy girl," he breathed, laying you down to watch him rid himself of his glasses and unbutton his shirt. More like rip open; more than one button flew off in the process. "Look what you're doing. Do you see the mess you've made?"

Your eyes floated to the generous outline in his slacks, much thicker and larger than you thought, making his slacks painfully tight and in the way. You felt your fingers twitch to reach to palm it, and before you realized that's exactly what you were attempting, his large hands stilled you.

"I don't think so. That's a reward," he smirked cryptically, fingers ripping open the short, thin fabric of your already ruined nightgown, exposing your bottom half to him entirely. His eyes glazed at the beautiful sight of you, swollen and ready. Undoubtedly wet and warm and tantalizingly tight. "Yeah."

He hovered above your mound as though entranced, tongue running over his lips. "Since you ruined my slacks, it's only fair."

Your eyes watched him quietly, curious as to what he meant by "fair". It almost seemed as though he were trying to justify what he was about to do to you aloud. Not particularly to you. Just aloud.

Truthfully, you didn't care as much as you were dying with anticipation of his descent, and in the back of your mind your reporter's senses were telling you that was exactly his intent. His mouth was suddenly on you and you arched as he mercilessly swirled and sucked, making out with the sensitive skin of your clit until your throat was dry from needy gasps. You swallowed and exhaled a new string of groans, each one hungrier and more wanton than the last. He was rock solid in place as he fucked you with his mouth; no amount of clawing and grasping in his hair bothered him. It truly was superhuman.

It was merciless. It was...so fuckin good.

BUZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

You stirred awake at the sound of your ringing, vibrating phone falling off your nightstand. You squeezed your thighs together, falling short of the delicious, sleepy orgasm that was now eluding you. Fuckin dammit. This was your day off. Whoever the fuck it was deserved the worst side of you this morning. At least after you got up to find your fuckin phone. The ringing eventually stopped and you groaned, your mind on the fresh bit of business you'd just subconsciously made up.

This wasn't the first time you dreamed about fucking Clark.

Especially in the past couple of days

In fact, it was a secret bit of you time that you looked forward to after spending time being his boo

The man haunted your dreams, your thoughts, your whole being. It was troubling

You could tell yourself seven ways to Sunday that you were still annoyed by him, and truthfully you were

But it was because you were falling hopelessly and helplessly in love with him and...

Well...

He didn't love you back

It stung

You didn't quite break out the Sade box set yet

But you were in the Toni Braxton - Unbreak My Heart/Mariah Carrey - My All 90s Heartbreak phase

Yes, gurl. It was that deep.

You fumbled in your side drawer--that you sensibly named your Sex Drawer--past all the condoms and assorted bottles of lube for your favorite sex toy. The only one that could bring you back to the wonderful fantasy of Clark's mouth on your still needy clit.

"Yeah...It's only fair..." his words still echoed in your head as you lined the hole to the head of your clit.

'Yeah. It is', you thought greedily, holding the button, still holding to the illusion, 'Torture me, Superman. I deserve it.'

It always startled you when your toy sprang on. You were never ready for it. You couldn't help but liken the anticipation to Clark's hypnotic fixation to always keep you guessing and waiting before he plunge. His amazing ability to make you cry out just as you did then, breath caught in your throat, sweat gathering on your thighs as you greedily chased your release.

Dream Clark made you forget yourself. Dream Clark made you selfish and greedy. Needy. He kissed you places many men didn't have the privilege to. He smoothed his hands along your curves as though he molded you himself. For his use only. He shamelessly used you and loved you and had to have you just to make it through the day.

Dream Clark needed you.

You came quickly and tormented yourself a bit more, dragging the sucker along the sides of your clit, the yummy feeling of your orgasm prolonged and pulling you into a state of ecstasy that brought tears to the corners of your eyes.

Dream Clark would lick those tears away. Coax you to give him just one more. Just for him. Wet his dick just a little longer. His dick, his fingers, his tongue...whatever he felt like fuckin you with that day. Just. Come for him.

You practically sobbed out another orgasm, gasping his name into the physical world as your body jerked from being spent. It startled you a bit. You were whispering his name now. Out loud. It was cemented. In place of Luke, you were saying his name out loud now.

Honestly, Luke who?

As you showered and got ready for the day, you had to wonder: If Clark was Superman, that meant he had super hearing, right? If you masturbated and said his name aloud and he was flying by, would that mean he would hear you?

Much like the if two trains left station A vs B scenario

It was ridiculous, but your shower thoughts made you incredibly curious and maybe even a little paranoid

Superman was really popular

Did he hear that kinda thing all the time?

Hmmm

You tuned out the morning show playing in the background as you mulled on the thought and made yourself some breakfast that morning. Clark had been the one that called, but he didn't leave a message. You were certain he'd call again if it was an emergency, but he never did.

A bit of grease flew from the pan and hit the back of your hand, making you wince a bit. It had occurred to you that you never asked Clark if he could even cook. True, it was a cooking class, but if he thought he was gonna fumble through it and pass most of the time trying to woo Lois, he had another thing coming. You loved your progress and he wasn't about to ruin that.

You looked out the window and imagined what it'd be like to hear a knock and see him out there, floating in place, flannel flapping in the breeze, box of donuts in hand. Damn. You really wanted some donuts now.

Your phone lit up out of the corner of your eyes and you took a few seconds from breakfast to unlock and scroll through it.

4 unread messages

When the hell did that happen? All from Clark.

"dsjndfsfwji" Whatever the fuck that button mashed shit meant. It was sent late, while you were asleep.

"Sorry. Drunk dial" and "Make it up to you later" were both sent together, also at later times. Drunk and Clark didn't seem synonymous, but you made a mental note to taunt him about it later.

"Look out your window" Sent just now.

You froze, your heart doing a flip. After hazarding a look at your window, you didn't see him floating there, but you crept to the sill and saw him standing below. Business casual. Rolled sleeves. Box of donuts in hand.

(Part 4)

(Part 2)

[witchthewriter]

𝑆𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 @moonie14.

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑃𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑎 𝑀𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑘! The sweetheart, the kindest person in all of Panem... I ship you with him because I think you work well with people who do show their emotions, who are open with their communication and thoughts. Peeta does this and more, and always in a graceful way. 

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Still looks up at you with these shy eyes; almost like they’re peaking through his eyelashes. He never gets over how stunning you are, and it makes him all giddy inside

You like to paint his nails - and he doesn’t mind it at all. He thinks it’s fun. He suggests it when you’re feeling down. That’s when he lets you add sparkles. 

Would definitely be the type of boyfriend to randomly surprise you with a pet. Probably a dog, even though in the Districts dogs were seen as a hassle - you adored them. And Peeta always loves getting you things you adore. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The King by Sarah Kinsley

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Chaotic Dumbass Duo

Calm bf x Hyper gf

When Two Of The Sweetest people In The Room Are In Love

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

That you love romance - it means he can spoil you as much as he wants and you happily receive it. He gives you flowers, pulls out your chair for you, opens doors for you, and it goes even further than that. Protecting you, (letting him protect you). 

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅  

Is definitely Katniss and/or Johanna. With your ENTJ personality, I think you three would be an intimidating trio. No one would mess with you, even though they wouldn’t even dare think it. They too have trouble opening up and showing their true emotions. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟏𝟎𝟎

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝐽𝑜𝘩𝑛 𝑀𝑢𝑟𝑝𝘩𝑦! Underneath all that bravado was a guy who just wanted to be loved. Yes, he was quite the menace in the beginning but over time he’s proved himself again and again. I think that’s the other type of person who works well with you - the asshole with the hidden heart of gold. 

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Your are like ... the only person he’s nice to. Everyone else is too much of a bore, or he can’t be bothered with them. So everyone asks how you and Murphy get along, because he literally hates everyone else. 

Treats you like an absolute Princess - you never want for anything. He will literally kill to get what you desire (a bit far? Idk upto you...) 

Hates when people question your relationship. No it isn’t fake. No he isn’t forcing you into anything. So he takes it to heart when you stand up for him. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Heat Above by Greta Van Fleet

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

"Being With You Makes Me Better"

Emo Loser (John) x Also Emo But Is Way More Likeable (You)

Black Cat (John) x Golden Retriever (You)

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Aside from your personality, he absolutely loves that you can do impressions. You will laugh together for hours, making fun of the people who do so to you during the day. 

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅  

I think Clarke or Octavia ... or both. You’d definitely be an OG member of the 100. And you grew close with both women because of the trauma that you endured. But also because you came from the same home. 

𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝐿𝑦𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛! As I said with Murphy, I see Lydia under the same sort of character trope. She’s a bully at first, but underneath her fake confidence is a wounded and sensitive woman. I think you two would work well together because she would protect you no matter what, and you would show her the kindness and love that she deserves. 

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Loves that you love pink! She’s the type of significant other who wants to match with her partner. It might be a piece of jewellery, some clothes, maybe even a pink candle that she got you so that whenever you light it, it reminds you of her 

Would be totally obsessed with your style - possibly even see you as a fashion icon because it’s so individualistic 

Loves the sound of your laugh. Everytime she hears it, it’s like happiness incarnate. She can’t help but feel better. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Cherry by Lana Del Rey

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Childhood Friends to Lovers

Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Lydia) x The Top (You)

 You're The Only One Who Understands Me

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Your personality as a whole; it’s so multidimensional. She loves that about you - there’s this happy go lucky side that every sees, but when the two of you are in private, she gets to see another aspect of your personality. She feels privileged. 

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅  

Stiles! Who wouldn’t want Stiles as a best friend? Oh and is he jealous of your relationship? Yes. But at the end of the day, he’s just happy that the two of you are happy.