#I think they’re a surfer too

[nuks]

a marine biologist oc who studies sharks… And was bitten by a shark! but still loves them and advocates for them 🫶

[astonmartinii]

hi!! i really love your blog: i usually stay silent and only like the posts but i thought today should be the day i request something!

would you be open to write a social media au with lando Norris x y/n where the reader is a marine biologist? or a surfer? or something ocean-related lmao

feel free to disregard this request if you don’t like it or don’t have time!! xx

just add water | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem reader

first fish ruined his appetite, now they steal his girlfriend?

yourusername

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tagged: landonorris

yourusername: perks of the job but back on shore i clock in to my full time job of missing lando

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user1: can we have the hair routine cause miss ma'am is in the sea every damn day and her hair is still healthier than mine

user2: REAL

landonorris: f1 is just my day job, talking about you is my passion and career

yourusername: babe even the whales in monterey bay know about you

landonorris: they better be mclaren fans

yourusername: eh i think i heard super max (whale edition) the other day

maxverstappen1: conquered all of f1 and the seven seas so real of me

landonorris: THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE SAYING THE RISING OCEAN TEMPERATURES ARE FRYING THEIR BRAINS

yourusername: babe don't joke about that :(

landonorris: sorry :(

oscarpiastri: can you please come to the next race i may put my head through a wall if i have to watch this man go through his camera roll again RETELLING me all of the stories

yourusername: didn't realise we were so annoying 🧐

oscarpiastri: don't get me wrong you guys are cute but sometimes i wanna nap after practice in peace and not hear about whale shit

landonorris: i SEE HOW IT IS

alexalbon: no oscar is right i've heard about when had a baby seal on her surfboard about seven billion times

yourusername: HEY that was cute

user3: okay but lando could talk to ME about y/n's adventures

user4: i want to hear ALL of it for real

user5: lando and y/n podcast when?

alexalbon: do not give them ideas they’re already number one and two yappers in the international waffling championship

yourusername: yapper and proud 😤

landonorris: healthy relationship communications and boundaries? no. yappers? yes!

alexalbon: has anyone ever told you guys you’re annoying?

yourusername: yes 😃

user6: they’re so annoying i love them

landonorris

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landonorris: does this girl own a pair of trousers? real question.

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user8: i actually don't think i've ever seen a man this down bad

user9: ALL men should aspire to be this whipped

yourusername: i wish you would join the no trouser revolution, give the girlies something to look at

user10: i agree

yourusername: okay back up babe that ass is all mine

landonorris: it's okay babe you can admire your (my) ass all the time if you come home PLS

yourusername: sorry babe the ocean doesn't sleep and the whales need me

landonorris: but i need you too :(

maxverstappen1: WAH WAH I'M SICK OF YOUR FUCKING WHINING

alexalbon: THANK YOU FINALLY

landonorris: erm why am i being victimised in my own comment section

maxverstappen1: you are doing my fucking nut in mate yeha i get you miss her but kinda your fault for having a cool gf with a cool job

yourusername: omg thanks 😊

landonorris: Y/N???

yourusername: babe no offence but he's a three time world champ i'm gonna take the compliment

landonorris: i guess so :(

user10: just one normal comment section, please that is all i ask for

oscarpiastri: maybe i should get on this whole j.peg business cause my photography is doing some heavy lifting here

yourusername: i didn't take you for a stunt queen miss rookie

landonorris: where is the peace, love and positivity ?? you guys are such haters

oscarpiastri: proudly

yourusername: no cool shells for you mr piastri

oscarpiastri: I TAKE IT BACK

landonorris: you people are such flip flops

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 112,872 others

yourusername: i promise we do actually do work

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user14: why am i now considering a marine biology degree for a sick ass instagram feed

user15: and protecting the sanctity of ocean life?

user14: yeah sure throw that in there too?

landonorris: i hope you slapped the FUCK out of that stingray for steve irwin

yourusername: babe we all know violence is not the answer

landonorris: you said you'd break the knee caps of any driver that took me out?

yourusername: i do not recall this

landonorris: steve irwin is a national treasure, you should've done it for oscar

oscarpiastri: i'm sure it wasn't that exact stingray mate

landonorris: you don't know that

danielricciardo: i see you've forgotten about the other aussie you were teammates with ???

yourusername: i wouldn't have that if i were you daniel

landonorris: y/n??? you're meant to be on my side

yourusername: say sorry to larry and maybe i'll gang up on daniel with you

danielricciardo: Y/N???

landonorris: i'm sorry larry ... and daniel i guess ?

danielricciardo: if my hand weren't broken right now...

user16: okay i think lando is having y/n withdrawals

yourusername: his bitchiness is a symptom of separation anxiety

landonorris: sorry not sorry

user17: mclaren pr praying for y/n to come to a race soon

maxverstappen1: p says pretty please can she bagsy the pink shells?

yourusername: most definitely she can !! i'll even be on the look out for more

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n you're my favourite - p

yourusername: that's it i'm coming home rn

landonorris: am i a joke to you?

landonorris

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landonorris: reunited and it feels so good oh and a double podium, pretty sweet

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user21: obsessed with how lando said that y/n is clearly his lucky charm and the "dumbass" ocean won't be getting his girlfriend back

user22: there's levels to hating and lando's level of hating on the ocean??

user23: his hatred of fish makes so much more sense right now

user24: either he hates anything to do with the ocean or y/n convinced him they deserve to live 😭

landonorris: i'll say it's number one but realistically it's two greatly helped by the fact that it tastes gross anyway

yourusername: I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU

landonorris: i know hhehehehehehehe

yourusername: i love you stupid

landonorris: i love you too dummy

yourusername: as much as i enjoyed this race i am ready for home time (after karaoke, you promised me karaoke with yuki)

landonorris: AHAHAHAAH TAKE THAT OCEAN Y/N COMING HOME

alexalbon: bro has beef with the ocean 😭

georgerussell63: bro had to share his gf with WATER 😭

maxverstappen1: bro is being ... torn apart here KEEP GOING LOL

oscarpiastri: no keep going cause i just want a nap before debrief and some people are being WAY TOO LOUD

carlossainz55: i think that's probably why you guys are getting away with bullying the little goblin

user25: oscar out here just confirming that lando and y/n are ... for lack of a better word up to no good?

user26: y/n didn't lie when she called him a stunt queen

landonorris: i can't hear y'all LALALALALALA

yourusername: they hate us because they ain't us

landonorris: period 💅

user27: i hate (love) them your honour

yourusername

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yourusername: so he had the whole proposal planned out but got a bit too excited at suzuka ... if anyone asks we got engaged on a boat in the mediterranean not in his driver's room. aside from that, HOLY FUCK I AM ENGAGED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE I LOVE YOU LANDO I CAN'T WAIT FOR FOREVER

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user30: HOLY 😭 FUCKING 😭 SHIT 😭

landonorris: can we agree on no more like three month placements pretty please?

yourusername: baby the whales need me

landonorris: i need you more FIANCE :(

yourusername: gosh you are convincing, no more retreats for more than a month

landonorris: yay !!

yourusername: you need to put up more shelves for our shells though

landonorris: on it, i love you (i'm calling my dad to do it)

yourusername: i love you too baby

danielricciardo: enchante tease on the engagement post and for free ??? love you two

yourusername: at least you have the prettiest model ever for it

landonorris: I'M BLUSHING

danielricciardo: i'll deal with this because i'm happy for you two

mclarenf1: double podium and an engagement, suzuka really delivered this year

oscarpiastri: i guess i take back my comments about being loud in the drivers room... i'm so happy for you guys you deserve it

landonorris: ahaha i knew you were a softy really pastry boy

yourusername: i always knew you loved us really oscar, you're just sassy and we respect that

landonorris: .... sure

maxverstappen1: did he propose at sea in one final power move over his arch nemesis the ocean?

yourusername: have you considered he did it at sea because i'm a marine biologist and i love it out there and he loves me?

maxverstappen1: well now i look like an asshole

landonorris: the sea 0 - 1 lando

yourusername: lando 😭

user31: well this has all been a rollercoaster

fin.

note: i've been kinda mia on here and i'm super sorry this request has taken so long lol. wanted to get this out now though cause lando had a horrid day today but i'm glad he's okay !! enjoy, i'm in my second week of a job so might get less busy xx

[sidekick-hero]

Cheesy

steddie | 1.2k | rated: teen | tags: modern AU, Eddie works at Surfer Boy Pizza, inappropriate humor, cheesy lines and bad puns, fluff and humor | AO3

"Steeeeeeve! Steven! I’m starving! You have to save me from the cruel clutches of death by buying us a pizza. But you must hurry—I don’t have much time left."

"Oh no, what would I ever do without you?" Steve deadpans, barely suppressing a grin.

Robin dramatically flings herself onto him, knocking the wind out of him with a loud 'oumph.'

She jabs a finger into his ribs—surprisingly painful. "Crash and burn, Dingus. Crash. And. Burn."

Steve swats her poking fingers away, scowling at his platonic soulmate. "At least I’d have fewer bruises and a better bank account. This is the third time this week I’m buying you pizza, Buckley. How is that fair?"

He tries to sound stern, but as Robin squirms in his lap, looking up at him with big, pleading blue eyes, his resolve crumbles to dust.

"Because I’ve been your best friend since we both lost all dignity in those sailor outfits. It’s us against the world, oh platonic love of my life. Or... don’t you love me anymore?"

There it is—the killing blow. Game, set, match.

God, he’s so fucking easy, isn’t he?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my phone, jeez. You’re eating me out of house and home, I hope you know that."

Steve gets a sharp elbow in the stomach as Robin scrambles to grab his phone from the table.

"Ouch! God, why are your elbows so pointy?"

"They’re my secret weapon against the patriarchy," Robin says distractedly, shoving the phone in his face. "Pizza. Please. Hungry."

Robin’s monosyllables mean the situation is dire. Steve quickly dials their favorite pizza place. “Veggie?” he mouths, earning a thumbs-up from Robin.

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Eddie speaking. What’s your poison of choice?”

Huh. The deep, smooth voice on the other end of the line is new, throwing Steve off momentarily.

“Uhhhm… You’re not Argyle,” he blurts out, immediately wanting to slap himself. How pathetic does he sound right now?

An amused chuckle echoes through the tiny speaker.

“Keen observation skills, Sherlock. Argyle’s off today, so you’ve got the pleasure of my company. How can I make your day better, sweetheart?”

The flirty tone throws Steve further, but he can’t deny he’s enjoying it. So, he decides to match Eddie’s energy.

“I could think of a few things, but I’m not sure they’re on the menu,” Steve flirts back, relishing the chance to flex his long-dormant charm.

“Is that so?” Eddie’s smile is practically audible. “Who says they aren’t? Or that I wouldn’t make an exception if you ask real nice?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Robin’s elbow digs into his side, knocking the breath out of him. She’s glaring at him, mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’

The sound must have been loud enough for Eddie to hear because he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, was that… I mean, sorry if that was too forward, man. Please don’t tell my manager, I just got the job and—”

“No! No, no, no, don’t worry. My best friend’s just starving and shared her pain with me… via elbow to the ribs. It wasn’t too forward, I promise.”

A relieved sigh reaches his ear. “Okay, good. So, what kind of pizza can I get you two before your best friend starves to death? I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

A heavy weight settles in Steve’s stomach. He didn’t realize how much he missed being flirted with, even casually. Nancy was right—their relationship had been over long before they ended it. It’s been ages since he felt this kind of excitement.

“Yeah, no, we don’t want that,” Steve agrees, smiling despite himself. “One veggie, and one with meatballs—yes, I know how that sounds.”

Eddie’s flirtatious tone returns. “Wouldn’t dream of going for such an easy opening, big boy. I’m easy, not cheesy.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve laughs. “That was terrible.”

“But you liked it.”

Steve grins. Yeah, he did. He’s a sucker for bad puns and dad jokes. But Eddie didn’t need to know that. “Pleading the fifth.”

Eddie hums, asking for his name and address before promising the pizza will be there in 20 minutes.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice softer than it should be.

“Anytime, Stevie. Enjoy your pizza!”

“Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Deafening silence. Then, in a surprisingly calm voice, Eddie says, “I hope you’re not expecting a discount on the pizza now that we’ve confessed our undying love to each other. Because I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”

And then he hangs up, leaving Steve to spiral in peace.

Love you.

Love you, too.

Fuck. Oh my God. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. What was he thinking? Nothing, apparently. It’s just… with Nancy on his mind, his brain switched to autopilot, saying the words he ended every call with her. Three years of habit.

“Steve? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The worried look on Robin’s face lasts just long enough for Steve to explain what happened before she breaks into ringing laughter.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, barely able to catch her breath. “That’s… hahaha… I can’t… What is your life, Dingus?”

By then, Steve’s laughing too, Robin’s reaction helping him see the humor instead of drowning in embarrassment.

As promised, there’s a ring at the door about 20 minutes later, announcing the arrival of their pizza. The sound sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach, even though he knows the delivery guy won’t be Eddie.

Knowing that and seeing it for himself are two different things, though. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when he opens the door to find a blonde, pimply teenager staring at him doubtfully.

“So, you’re the guy trying to lure Eddie into your sex dungeon?”

Steve sputters, completely thrown. “Uh… what?”

“Why else would you tell a total stranger—who’s also working for you, by the way, hence creating an imbalance of power—that you love him? Freak.”

The teenager shoves the pizza boxes into Steve’s hands, snatches the bills from his other hand, and walks away without another word.

Steve stands there, staring into the void, deeply regretting all his life choices. He’s snapped out of it only when Robin’s voice pierces through his thoughts, yelling for her pizza.

“Coming!” he shouts back, closing the door with his foot and carrying the boxes over to where Robin’s already making grabby hands.

He hands hers over before settling down next to her with his own.

“What took you so long?” she asks, mouth full of pizza.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he begins but stops when he notices the note stuck to the top of his pizza box.

Hey Stevie, I lied, because this is cheesy, but you are one supreme slice, and I’d love to give you meatballs for as long as you’d like. Yours truly, The guy you confessed your undying love to (aka Eddie) P.S. Please don’t mind Sam. He’s just jealous because no customer ever confesses their love to him.

Beneath the note, Steve finds a phone number.

Without thinking, he grabs his phone and quickly types out a message before finally digging into his pizza, suddenly starving.

‘Hey Eddie, if you put a sausage on top of the meatballs, we have a deal. xxx the guy you confessed your undying love to right back.’

Inspired by this ancient post I can no longer find:

[mushiemellows]

These mf’s need a better name than Old Strawhat Polycule but I will present regardless

Franky and Robin need no introduction. She finds him interesting and a good dose of silly guy cures the depression like nothing else. If a man (35, blue hair, pronouns, naked, craftsman, surfer, local union representative) built me a fish tank and a library, I too could simply not resist. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she is.

Robin and Brook, likewise, ooooo the macabre appeal of the hanahone ship. She licks him in the way that archeologists lick rocks and bones to figure out if they are a rock or a bone and she thinks it’s a funny joke every time. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she is. When they go to the beach he buries himself halfway in the sand and she digs him back up and she thinks it’s sooooo funny every time.

Brook and Franky lay stoned on the deck noodling their guitars and they’re like when two rockstars kiss on stage. Brook stands there like an anatomical model when Franky’s gotta crack open the hood and points to stuff. They’ve got the same strand of “lived in isolation on an abandoned ship” disease but Brook’s just for it 9x as bad (50 years to Franky’s 4). Sometimes they make Franky run on Milk to see what it does (you DONT want to see Milk Franky)

Jinbei 👏 and 👏 Franky both love 👏 SUNNY!!!! They get her, and to understand Sunny is to Understand Franky and he stands there and he watches Jinbei drive his car like the master that he is and it makes him Feel Things. They listen to dad rock. They go surfing together. They go snorkeling together. They go fishing together. They go to 2pm Wednesday half priced movies together. They go bowling together. They share a shirt collection.

Robin and Jinbei free political prisoners!!! The thinks he’s handsome, she thinks he’s kind, she thinks he’s Just. She thinks he’s admirable. They organize protests, they attend community meetings, they figure out direct action. She’s kissing fish men and it’s making the papers for the revolutionary act that it is (and the papers can’t even comprehend when Franky Kisses Him). He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she IS!

Brook And Jinbei used to Go to Chilis together but then chilis got rid of the 2 for 25 deal (because of inflation) so they’re a little mad about it and are taking direct action against the banks. And trying to find a new restaurant to go to. They’re considering getting into lawn bowling/bocce because bowling nights with everyone are getting too expensive (because inflation is too high! $75 for 4 people to bowl for an hour????? We can have bowling at home!!) but it’s not the same.

And then they all pile up when they sleep too because a cuddle pile ain’t just for the younger crew

[wosoragebaiter69]

together forever

hayley raso x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: I got my new goalie gloves today 😜

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“Come on, the beach will be fun. Aussie beaches are like the best in the world! And it’s summer. Get up.” My girlfriend says.

“Hayley, we’ve been everyday this week.” I sigh sinking into the couch.

“Yeah but we haven’t been there on sunset. Sunsets on the beach are a different kind here.” She ends up giving puppy dog eyes which she knows I can’t say no to. In all our years of dating she still manages to make me crumple.

“Fine, it better be worth it.” Her smile grows wider and she jumps up and down. To which, I can only laugh at.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” I grab my phone and a towel, before following her outside and we begin the walk to the beach.

The walk consists of small talk, Hayley seems slightly nervous but I can’t imagine why. Maybe she doesn’t think I’ll like it? Time can only tell. I place her hand in mine in hopes that whatever she’s worried about will go away when she sees the sunset.

Once we arrive, I place the towel down and immediately gape at the sight in front of me. The sky is lit up in all sorts of warm colours. The sun only a third of the way set as it casts an orange glow around it. Yellow and red fill other parts of the sky, making the whole area look like it’s out of a painting. The water contrasts perfectly against the horizon, where large ships can be seen but barely.

“Haiz.. I don’t know what to say. This is… beautiful. Why wasn’t I shown this earlier?” I look at her, still in awe about our surroundings.

All she does is smile.

“I needed to wait for a special moment. Now sit. Sunset doesn’t last too long. Maybe take a picture? Even though we both know nothing compares to real life.” I nod at her words wondering what the special moment could mean.

I turn my gaze back out to the water, watching some distant surfers riding waves and getting taken out, there’s not many other people though.

“I can feel you staring babe.” I break our peaceful silence.

“I know.” Does it sound weird that I can hear her grin? Confused, I turn to look at her but my mouth drops at what she’s holding. Before I can say anything she starts.

“We’ve been dating for 3 years, which have been the best of my life, no one can make me feel the way you do. I’ve had relationships, but you’re the one that has felt the most right. If I’m not with you, I wonder what you’re doing subconsciously. Which is why I’ve decided I want you to be mine forever. So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N will you make me the happiest woman ever, and marry me?”

Throughout the speech my eyes well up, I can’t believe this is happening. When she finally says the question, there’s only one answer to be said.

“Yes, with every ounce of myself yes!” I cry out, she takes the ring out of the box placing it on the left ring finger.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” I say before thinking about it.

“I was about to say the exact same thing.” She takes my hand and kisses it. “The best sunset in the world, with the best girl in the world.” I blush uncontrollably, not even trying to hide it.

“Are we going to tell the fans? When they find out they’re gonna go crazy.” I exclaim, it’s only last week her national teammate Ellie got engaged.

“Yes we can if that’s what you want. Now?” I nod smiling. I take the photo, making sure to include the jaw dropping sunset. Hayley’s arms are wrapped around my waist, her head resting on my shoulder kissing my neck softly. While I show the ring in all its glory, she probably went broke.

I take to instagram, including her on the post with the caption ‘I’ve got the best fiancé a girl could have, and you all have another thing to go crazy about.” I hit post laughing with the one I get to call mine, and we sit until twilight. Nothing else needs to exist if I’ve got her.

[aurelim]

Hey do you know any other mermaid/siren whatever of the water merfolk sort IF's? because there aren't a lot

I also loved as the ocean lures, hope to see more of it in the future

thank you so much! I hope to write more of it in the future 😂

As for mermaid/siren/anything water-like creatures, I’ve got a few. Most of them are just intro posts and ones with demos that are pretty short, so I’ll split it up into two categories along with their tumblr blogs. There are some finished ones as well but you’re going to have to pay for the entire game so I don’t know if you’re going to want to pay in order to read the whole thing. I won’t put it but I can add some if you’d like!

I don’t really follow VNs so you’re just going to get text-based games. Sorry about that 😅

There was another demo for a game called Kalopsia but it seems to have been deleted. And there’s another game where you’re found and then saved by a captain. Both were on itch.io but I can’t find either one.

Demos

Abysm’s Veil [thread] by Jacic (inspiration for ATOL, about the rusalki)

The Sea Maiden [thread] by Jacic (they have some other games but they’re short if you really want to check them out!)

Beyond the Waves by @allthatwrites (inspiration for ATOL, related to The Little Mermaid)

Voiceless: A Siren’s Song [thread] by Fare (MC is not a mermaid but they can help one!)

Disenchanted by @disenchantedif (you can choose to be a siren)

Drown With Me by @barbwritesstuff

Siren Call by @darkpetal16 (it’s based on Undertale and while MC is not a siren Sans definitely is)

Intro Posts

…And I Am Undone by @fakeyellow (short story based on Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid)

When Silence Speaks by @whensilencespeaks (seems to be on hiatus but the idea is really interesting!)

In Deeper Tides by @indeepertidesif (Disenchanted spin-off)

Through the Waves by @throughthewaves-if (this just came out recently and honestly I wouldn’t have known about it if I didn’t look at Zee’s reblog of it!)

I know there’s more, but I just don’t remember them or have yet to see them. If there is, please let me know!

There are some other IFs that are water related like @riptide-if (which is surfer related) but they’re not about mermaids or sirens.

Also, here’s interact-if’s list of mermaid IFs or water-related stuff if you’d like to take a gander. You can also just look up forums and Reddit for any mermaid recs. I’ve seen a few posts for them and people have given some. But I think I’ll cap it off here.

I’m so sorry to all the people I’ve tagged, but it makes it easier for people to just go to your profile and look at the amazing things that are cooking right now. Also because I’ve been making this list for about an hour and a half nonstop and I’d like to give my hands a rest 😅

(although I will tag @elegantunknownphantom as Zee probably has some IFs too that I didn’t list)

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the wip game (the highlighted ones)

-❤️🪐

Hello!! For you since you’ve been interested in it for awhile and i promised you a scene ages ago and only just now finished it: big heart, I wanna let it bleed, aka buck joins the team younger fic! Here’s a complete drabble about them running into Phillip on a call…

They’re not in an enclosed space but, somehow, the kid’s laughter is still echoing around them. Bobby tries to bite down on his smile as he calls a vaguely warning “Buck,” though he’s not too worried about professionalism seeing as the surfer — who’s trunks are truly mystifyingly tangled on his board — is cracking up even harder. He’s sort of… hung up there, board stuck nose down in the sand, man dangling up on the back end of it. They seem too far up the beach for a wave to have done this, but what does Bobby know, he’s from a landlocked state.

“Sorry, Cap,” Buck wheezes. “Do we, uh… need the ladder?”

Bobby takes a measured inhale as he hears some kind of frantically smothered squeak sound coming from — is that Chimney? One of the paramedics, anyway — and shakes his head. “I think we can just lower the board down, if you’ll give me a hand. That sound alright to you, sir?”

The surfer gets through a few more wheezing chuckles before he can say “Yeah dude, lower away.”

They manage it pretty smoothly, with him and Buck on either side and Hen and Chim ready to catch the weight of the surfer. Hen starts off the next small round of laughter as she tries to de-tangle the swim trunks to move their vic, but everybody manages to calm down as they get to the actual medical examination.

As Hen and Chimney poke and prod, Buck chatters. “I learned to surf a few years ago, over in the Carolinas.”

“No shit?” The surfer grins. “Like Charleston? I gotta cousin over there.”

“Yeah, Folly Beach sometimes, but mostly went up to the Banks.”

“Sick.” The surfer gestures to where Hen’s wrapping some gauze around his bloodied elbow. “What’s your worst wipeout?”

Buck laughs again, a little delighted sound, always happy to be included. “Oh man- My first time out on the water, like the second wave I ever caught, just tossed me right off completely.” He tugs up his shirt before Bobby dawn shake his head not to, and twists around to show a jagged old scar on his lower back. “Landed on some rocks, needed fourteen stitches.”

The surfer whistles as Hen shakes her head. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches for this one, but there’s enough debris in there I’m gonna recommend we take you to the hospital so they can get it all out.”

“Sure thing,” the guy says, looking more relaxed than Buck taking a nap on the couch after second helpings of mac and cheese. “Thanks man.”

“No problem,” Bobby says, definitely no trace of a chuckle in his voice no matter the delighted glances his team sends him.

The surfer tries to twist towards Buck once they get him on the gurney, winces, and then just turns his head. “You ever surf out here?”

“Have a few times, but I don't have a board or anything.”

“Man, you should come out and join us! We got a group most weekday mornings, I'm sure somebody could get you set up.”

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well. Still, Bobby feels a little off kilter as they load the ambulance.

“Rad, man, see you around.” The surfer is grinning at Buck, two happy little suns shining at each other. “Ask for Stevey,” he says, loosely pointing at himself. Steven Barney, he'd given as his name to dispatch.

Buck smiles, waves goodbye. “I'm-”

“Evan?”

Buck turns like a man in a haunted house, startled at an impossible sound with all the color draining out of him. The apparition takes the appearance of a white man a little older than Bobby, wearing neat, pale clothes and a sort of constipated, caught expression. They see that look on calls sometimes, with men who are going through an emergency with women who are not their wives and who are still trying to pretend they've done nothing at all untoward.

“D-” Buck blinks, a few times, hard. “Dad?”

Bobby can't help joining in Hen and Chin's shared oh shit look. There's not an overly familiar resemblance between the two — perhaps a shared stake in forehead real estate — but the man doesn't refute it. “I'll let you get back to work,” he says, glancing towards the sea, the ambulance, eyes landing briefly on Bobby before jumping away again, startled.

“Wait, wh-” Buck steps forward, hand wandering out in front of him before dropping back to his side. “What are you doing in LA? Did you have- a-a work trip?”

Buck's father clears his throat. “It's Brian’s birthday.”

“Oh,” Buck says, blinking again, rapidly this time, a fish thrown in new water. “He- he lives in California now?”

“No, no,” the man says dismissively, like he doesn't know why anyone on earth would choose to live in California. “He’s retiring early, wanted to make a weekend of it.”

“So-” Buck scrambles, visibly, and it makes Bobby aware of the small audience of first responders (and surfer), so he closes the ambulance door despite Hen and Chim’s wide eyes and shaking heads, and thumps the back so they pull away. Buck doesn’t seem to notice either way. “You’re- you’re here for a few days? We should- we could go get lunch? I-I have to work until tomorrow morning but-”

“It’s a busy weekend,” the man grumbles, doing a motion with his hands almost like he's patting himself down to make sure he has his wallet, the movements of someone making sure they're good to leave. “I won't have the time.”

Buck stands there, looking more wounded than any of the times he's been banged up on calls. “I- haven't seen you in- in like four years-”

“And who's fault is that?” His father laughs dismissively. “If you want to run off and throw your life away you can't complain about it later.”

“I-I didn't, I like what I- I have a job, I- I found…” Buck frowns, and Bobby worries for a moment he's going to cry out here in front of his father and colleagues and the beach goers of Santa Monica. He holds it together, though. “I like it here, and I like my job, and I'd like to tell you about it-”

“I won't have the time, Evan.” He doesn't even consider for a moment backing out of his obvious lie. “You can call next week if you want. Your mother will be glad to know you're in one piece.”

“Okay,” Buck says, shoulders sinking down and turning in. He goes from a 6’3” wall of muscle to a lost child right before Bobby’s eyes, hell of a magic trick. “Sorry,” Buck says, as Bobby does some math, works backwards a little. Fourteen stitches, definitely more recent than four years ago. He thinks about the laws of physics, or at least traffic, he’d break if he knew Robert was bleeding in an ocean somewhere in the world. “Sorry,” Buck says again — why, why should he be apologizing — and nods a few times. “I’ll- I’ll make sure to call.”

His father nods back. “We still work, so-”

“Yeah, after five, I know.”

“And your mother has book club on Tuesdays.”

“Okay.” Smaller, and smaller. Bobby remembers reading Alice in Wonderland to Brook, wonders how big Buck’s pool of tears is to shrink him so much. “I’ll just-” Buck clenches his fists, just for a moment, and then hides them in his pockets. “I’ll just try. If you’re busy you don’t have to pick up.”

Oh, God, give an inch and they’ll take a mile. Buck’s father looks visibly relieved at the offer of plausible deniability. “Alright.” He doesn’t move to hug his son, doesn’t even reach out for a handshake, staying a careful several feet away. “I’m sure you need to get back to your job,” he says, raising eyebrows in Bobby’s direction. It makes him bristle, he doesn’t want to be a forced coconspirator in judging Buck for something he hasn’t even done wrong. Buck wilts even further beside him. His father gives one final nod. “Goodbye, Evan.”

He’s already walking away by the time Buck says “Bye, Dad.”

And then they’re all just standing there. Hen and Chimney went off to the hospital, sure, but there’s still a handful of firefighters lingering around, either trying to make a lot of eye contact or no eye contact at all. Buck stares firmly at the ground. Bobby clears his throat.

“Alright, let's pack it up.” If they were operating under any other circumstance Bobby might compliment his crew for how quickly and quietly they get loaded into the trucks.

The ride back to the station is quiet, too, usual engine chit chat locked in everyone’s throats. Bobby’s pretty sure he sees Nichols subtly and somewhat frantically typing on his phone. Mostly, though, he watches Buck in the rearview. The kid is staring resolutely out the window, but Bobby would bet he’s not seeing a thing. His leg bounces on the seat, and Rodriguez doesn't even do the polite cut-it-out cough. Bobby wonders how many of Buck's stories he's overheard, if he's also now watching them tilt, shift, rearrange in his head. Dumb little boy stuff, skateboard-bike-motorcycle stunts, climbing up trees to fall out of them, all told with class clown energy, wasn't I stupid but wasn't it fun, wasn't it funny? Bobby got up to some shit when he was a kid, trailing after Charlie and taking any ill-advised dare the older kids tossed out to him, but he got hurt and he went home, his mom kissed his scrapes, even his dad would ruffle his hair and grab the first aid kit on his good days. Bobby looks at Buck looking out at nothing and tries to count the broken bones scattered between the big grins and his audience’s corresponding groans, tries to imagine Buck — all his silliness, all his sunshine — going home hurt to parents whose care comes with office hours.

When they pull into the station everyone flees the engine like there’d been a chemical spill, leaving Buck standing alone silhouetted against shiny scarlet paint. Bobby hesitates, one foot still up on the truck bed. He doesn’t want to overstep, but- he can’t stop thinking about how far away Buck’s father stood. The kid deserves someone to come closer. He only wished there was someone better than himself around to do it.

“Hey, kid-”

“I never knew what I did wrong.” Buck is frowning into middle distance, shoulders still tucked in around him. “I- I know I was stupid in- in high school, and college, but-” he looks right at Bobby, eyes wide, and he looks- oh, kid, come home. You’re hurting, come home, you’ll be taken care of, I got a first aid kid at least and I’ll learn to do better than that. “It was always like this- I-” Buck shrugs and here, finally, come the tears. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says, and it's only two steps over to him, and he’s never even casually side hugged this kid before but Buck sinks right into his arms.

“You can’t know that-”

“I can.” Buck’s so tall. Bobby’s not sure the last time he hugged somebody taller than him. He wonders how tall his dad was, looming so large in memory but an unknown in actual imperial measurement. He wonders how tall Robert would’ve gotten. “You were a kid. You were their kid. There’s nothing you could have done that was so bad they shouldn’t have loved you anyway.”

Buck shudders against him, and his shoulder is getting wet, and the ambulance will be back soon and there’s firefighters milling about and, always, work to do.

But they can take a little time here. Bobby’ll bend it around, if he has to. The laws of traffic, the laws of physics. It startles him, scares him a little, but- he’d break them for Buck, too.

[suzie-shooter]

Screaming Meals - Le Mans commentary highlights 10.06.23

 J: It's quarter to three, race is due to start at three o'clock. Obviously, you know, told Marcus to get here at two. C: Still not here.

J: I think the Cadillacs should have a good race. I mean it broke down in qualifying yesterday, it couldn't manage to do 45 minutes and now it's got to do 24 hours.

C: Roland Garros, women's finals, at the moment. J: Who's in that? C: Swiatek and [...] I don't know the other person. J: I went to school with someone called Swiatek. [...] But he was called Matthew so it's probably not him.

C: Why am I eating? Bit of a rough morning really. J: To say the least. Clem's parked up on struggle street.

C: Hoping for a moist affair.

C: Damn, my ramen's going to go everywhere. J: Ramen's going to be great ASMR as well, slopping and slurping everywhere like some kind of deranged ignoramus.

J: "What were Marcus' thoughts on James' last stream?" I think he quite liked it - I don't think he watched it 'cause he was racing so I don't know if he has too many thoughts on that stream. Nothing really happened, and yeah from his point of view he was a bit busy, so...

C: "Did Marcus like the Detroit track?" J: He loved it actually. C: D'you know what, you can ask him when he arrives, but, fucking, probably won't arrive. J: He's not officially late for another seven minutes.

C: So James is doing a 24 hour stream. J: I'm not.

C: Great mouthfeel. If I could paint a picture with words for ya,  it's ah, it's really good. J: I've said it before and I'll say it again, you have a real career waiting for you in food blogs.

C: I'm gonna take a couple of the old chillies out there. J: What an absolute - front cartilage. C: No, listen, I'm a backbone. Oh! Front cartilage, that's the opposite of a backbone. J: There you go, well done.

C: Loving the shorts too. J: Thank you. They were on sale. In 2014. C: Where'd you get those? J: I believe these are Billabong actually? C: Billabong? I didnt take you for a surfer. J: Yeah, I actually, I thought about learning surfing in September of 2017 and then quite quickly had the realisation that I was due to move to London in 2 months and it would be absolutely pointless.

J: [Marcus has] let us down, he's let himself down,  but more importantly - C: He's shaving his legs. J: He's let you guys down.

J: Let's see if Bourdais fucks it. C: That's not very nice James.

J: I'd love to see a replay of it, 'cause it was actually quite funny [...] oh it'd really tear your undies, on lap one of Le Mans, to put it in the wall like that.

C: Yeah, no, Dyson Airwrap, allows me to really straighten my hair in the mornings there and, er, allow me to have a bit more of a - bit more control.   J: Control's important. Just tell that to Jack Aitken.  

C: We've just got a slight issue really, getting new guests on. J: Yeah, no one seems to be keen. C: No one seems to be keen  these days. J: I'm not sure what's happened...

J: I left for Monaco, and I packed two hats and I returned with four. And I didn't even buy one.

C: Not only is it absolutely massive but it's also bent. (Alain Prost's nose)

C: Shall we give Marcus a call, see what he's up to? [...] Yes mate, you've got 750 people waiting for you to arrive, but you seem to be 40 minutes late [...] ah, fuck him. *hangs up*

C: Thing is, we promised Marcus and he's just not quite delivered. J: Yeah...I feel sorry for the woman who ends up with him.

C: A lot of people asking whether I should be sitting their Business A Levels - I actually participated - partake - ah - partook in the business exam a couple of years ago. J: Must have done well in your English one as well.

J: As an organisation, two thirds of us - well, three quarters with Rory - do care about you, the fans. Marcus is a scoundrel and a traitor. C: He's a sort of a Han Solo character. J: What, he gets it on with his sister? C: Yes James. J: I'm not accusing anyone of anything there. I regret I said that actually, but I've said it now.  Okay, so they're saying I was wrong there. C: You've fucked it up again.

J: I'm thinking that we're gonna need to reach out to the Serbian star and maybe start some kind of merch line: Novalak Djokovic.

J: So hot as well. Turned himself into a real DILF actually, Dan Carter. C: Absolute DILF. Dan Carter. Who's the biggest DILF for you? J: Ah what, just full stop, or in a certain area, or field? C: Full stop. J: It's probably got to be, um, Ryan Reynolds. C: Yeah, I was going to go with Ryan Reynolds. J: Yeah, he's a total DILF. C: Toto Wolff, in the comments. J: I feel like he'd be pretty boring in the sack. Patrick Dempsey, I mean you want to talk about hot old dudes and Le Mans, he's obviously got this team racing here.

J: Kimi Raikkonen there getting an honourable mention for, I'm assuming the DILF chat. C: Ah Kimi - pretty -  I mean -  probably not a - I wouldn't say he's a very vocal lover. J: Nah , he'd be a very silent lover. He'd be - I mean similar to Formula 1 media he'd communicate only in grunts and groans I believe. Very monotonous in his delivery of his love.

C: "Josef Newgarden qualifies as a DILF now." J: He does technically qualify as a DILF if - if he floats your boat, and you know, just speaking for myself there he's certainly floating mine.

J: I'm sure somebody knows what's going on here but it's not us. C: I've got no fucking idea.

(Screaming Meals technical gremlins make an appearance, giving us a brief glimpse of their kitchen)

J: Fixed! Fixed! How good! Just like the Formula 2 championship. C: I'm distancing myself so far away from that comment.

J: Where were we? I think we were talking about DILFs? C: Tom Hardy. DILF? J: Yeah, he's actually not my flavour of crisps to be honest, actually, Tom Hardy. He's quite short. I mean, you know, I'm not on the market, I'm just saying. C: You never cease to amaze me.

C: "Marcus being a male bimbo again." J: That would imply that at some stage he's actually stoppped being - 'cause you've said again - that implies that he's stopped being a male bimbo, whereas he's not.

J: "Marcus is Ken coded" - do you know what that means? C: Nope.

J: Clem's shades not quite dark enough to hide the fact that his eyes are now closed.

*Clem keels over sideways* J: Seem to have momentarily lost Clement Novalak, but I'm sure he will return.

J: 4.09 arrival predicted from Marcus Armstrong. C: Which is currently another 15 minutes. J: That's actually bang on 69 minutes late from Marcus Armstrong, you'd expect nothing less to be perfectly frank.

C: "Take a shot each time Clem yawns" - you're gonna be dead.

C: You're looking pretty moist.

C: Max Fewtrell. Doing the cooking. Probably doing a stream on cooking. J: Caged in his gimp suit on a leash.

J: I've been getting vastly mixed reviews on my long locks. C: It sort of looks a bit pubey at the back. J: Ally hates it. Ally fucking hates it. Which is why I'm keeping it.

C: First time he's actually text me since - hold on hold on - 17th May. J: There's a text string of Clem - I hope you don't mind me exposing this - there's three texts in a row from Clem to Fewtrell going - "Brother, I have an idea, a good one too" and he's just blanked him, he's not replied. Wise man. When Clement Novalak texts you to say he's got a good idea, don't fuckin' respond.

J: It really gets deep inside my goat. C: You do have a nice goat.

J [talking about buzzcuts]: Do you think it has like the same effect as like your downstairs, where it makes it look much bigger? C: I wouldn't want to have a massive head. J: Yeah exactly, that's what I'm thinking. C: 'Cause then it would make my massive honker look even larger. J: Yeah, no you don't want that. I can't afford my honker to look much bigger. I'm talking about my nose.

J: You do a good impression of a whipcrack actually. C: I just spat all over myself. J: Tune into Screaming Meals and watch two guys spit all over each other.

C: If I get a Pret [coffee] I'm gonna throw my phone out the window. J: Actually no you shouldn't do that it might kill someone. We're 28 floors up.

J: Actually I'm going to put the shot glasses in the freezer. Do you think I should put one in for his - his friend as well - do you think she's with him?

J: Yes it is a massive bottle of Corona, your eyes aren't deceiving you, Clem's not actually that small.

J: Is that our doorbell? I've never heard that before.

J: I had dinner with Marcus and a friend of his yesterday - can't remember her name - and he was still trying to insist that he's 6 ft tall.

J: "James show us the snazzy shorts you're wearing"

M: How are ya? C: You're three minutes late so that's  three shots. J: No, no, no you're an hour and thirteen minutes late.

M: How are you feeling? C: Pretty rooted. Where are we going tonight?

M: I'm not having any shots. I'm not drinking today. I've got to do some stuff later.

C: You disappoint me. M: I know. C: Every day. M: Yeah, I know.

J: My back is absolutely destroyed from carrying this shit. C: Yeah James, you do carry.

C: Marcus? M: Yo. J: Where do you stand on DILFs?

J: Up in the hypercar field it's been real bumper to bumper. C: C&B, bumper to bumper. J: Is C&B meaning what I think it means?

J: I hate to be fussy but could you two bastards move over a bit? C: I need to lie back and have a wee sleep.

M: Did you tell them we did a pod yesterday? J: No. M: Were we keeping that a secret? J: Yeah, we were.

M: Is this slaving away? I can't think of anything better than sitting back, watching the race, feet up on the table. C: No, get your grippers out! M: Oh the grippers are out by the way everyone. C: Disgusting, piece of filth. J: [...] five minutes, and it's underwear off, shoes off, grease in the hair.

J: "Marcus is raw-dogging his shoes" - yes!

M: By the way I have actually - I've started washing my hair everyone. You'll find out in the pod. C: And wearing deoderant. M: And wearing deoderant as well. C: And do you know what, you look better and I'm starting to think that - M: I am better. J: You might even just taste better. C: Pfffff what the fuck?? J: I was just going with the senses there. You said look, the obvious next choice was taste.

M: When we went to Long Beach weren't we meant to do an intro video? J: We wanted to do something like that, but we did run out of time because we were being cancelled and you had an indycar race to do.

M: Do you still have this as your background? J: HoyteyJ and Minougey? Hoytey. C: You've taken Hoytey off yours M: I've had to change mine. C: Yeah, I know why. J: What is it now? M: It's a dog. J: Well that's a bit rude. C: That's a bit rude. *James screams* M: It's literally like - no - it's a labrador, it's literally a little baby labrador, no! C: Oh shit yeah [chat's] just gone off. M: Come on!

C: I don't have a CV. I arrive, I say - Clement Novalak, enchante.

J: What? M: Heart rate J: Is 34? M: Yes. J: Are you alive? M: When I'm sleeping it dips down. J: When you're asleep your heart rate is 34? M: Yes. My Oura ring stops counting when it goes under 33. J: Does it assume you're dead?

C: It was the first night I had redbull vodka in about six months [...] I was doing a long distance run mate, in my bed. J: Don't need to know any more details than that.

C: Can you fucking - leave your grippers away from my grippers? J: Yeah, that's quite aggressive. C: With that fucking massive toenail. M: I just wanna play footsie [...] yeah, we're playing footsies everybody.

J: Imagine having the audacity to leave people waiting an hour and a quarter, and then just being on your phone.

M: Clem are you okay mate? Good.

J: Fuckin' hell, you selling tickets there mate? M: Gun show there. J: Watch Marcus now get competitive and not be able to resist getting his guns out.

J: What's going to run out first, our countdown to 22 hours, or the iPad battery? That might be the most interesting battle we've got going on here.

J: Thanks so much for sticking with us for the last couple of hours [...] we don't know anything that's going on in the race and we've made almost no effort to find out.

[cheekyboybeth]

what would you think of a marauders australia au (which characters would be what, e.g. eshays...do you think their personalities would be different and what would they be, where would they live/be from, just the idea of them being aussie, etc) ?

personally i find the idea funny (as an aussie) and im kind of tempted to write a fic

anon, I love you /p

this is by far one of the best asks I’ve ever received on here. So, thank you

where do I even begin?

Okay, I’ve always had the hc that the rosier twins are French and indigenous Australian, like I’m fully obsessed with it.

I feel like all the characters are either form Victoria or NSW or maybe even Queensland but idk.

The marauders (James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus) aren’t eshays but they do have their own gang sort of thing and they will pick fights with eshays. Barty however, is an eshay, BUT HEAR ME OUT, he’s only an eshay to upset his dad and break the law bc he likes it. But I feel like he would get so bored of the eshays he’s around bc they don’t have that creativity that he has (insanity).

Remus Remus Remus. He’s a country boy. He’s got that thick Aussie accent (I just wanna see it happen tbh) and same with Mary.

Marlene, Dorcas, Xenophilius, and Evan are surfers. They spend too much time at the beach literally doing anything they can. They love the beach and Pandora, Emmeline, and Lily would join them bc they also love the beach. They would all collect crabs and starfish and put them in a big bucket and then put back where they’re supposed to be but Evan (the little freak) would secretly keep some to do experiments on.

Jehfidjkd dude you need to write an Aussie au this instant

[cornskin]

My brain is itching for me to write a Glassheart Teen Beach Movie AU

These are my ideas so far:

-Chloe is obviously Brady and Red would be Mack

-Takes place in the “real world” so not Descendants canon. Red and Chloe are best friends who met in middle school while at the beach.

-Chloe is a fun loving surfer who hasn’t experienced enough of the “real world” to really mature. She’s still very naive and believes in the pure good of everybody.

-Red lives under her mother’s thumb and feels like she has no room for her own choices in her life. She’s very reserved and has never opened up to Chloe about this. It’ll probably come up as a plot point that Chloe may have been too busy living in her own jaded world to notice how messy Red’s was.

-Red secretly wants to be a sculptor and whenever her and Chloe go to the beach, she’ll watch Chloe surf as she makes elaborate sand models. Of course, she always shrugs it off as just a little hobby and tells Chloe that she’d rather take over her mother’s growing chain of flower shops.

-One day, Chloe convinces Red to go to the beach despite a large storm brewing. Red advises against it, but Chloe has just been handed down her father’s surfboard that he used to win multiple national titles, and she’s itching to use it. (The board was made by a family friend named Faye). Red watches anxiously from the shore as the rain gets worse and Chloe gets knocked off her board. Red sees Chloe struggling to surface amongst the waves and dives in to save her.

-They resurface but the weather is totally different. This is when they find out they’re in Chloe’s favorite movie musical: Wet Side Story

-In this universe, Chloe’s dad was cast as the male lead and that’s how he met her mother who was getting her breakout role in the film. They constantly told their love story of how they fell in love when they had their kiss at the end of the movie.

-When Chloe realizes they’re in the movie, she tells Red that they need to make sure that Charming and Ella’s characters fall in love. They just need to do a play by play of the movie. Of course this is complicated when Red accidentally becomes the object of Charming’s eye.

-The movie sort of continues from there with similar beats but with slightly different character arcs. Since Chloe is a girl, the guys don’t want to listen to her advice. She has a hard time understanding why they wouldn’t take her opinion just because she’s a girl. Sure, she had experienced similar stuff before, but never to that degree. It’s an eye opening experience for her.

-Chloe also has a really hard time taking in the characters’ flaws since she can only see them as her parents. For example, when Charming’s character won’t stop pursuing Red despite her stating she’s not interested, Chloe defends him since he’s just trying to shoot his shot.

-Red’s main arc is about empowering the women in the biker gang (also imagine Red in the biker fits, I would die) by showing them that they can do anything they set their minds to. In the process she’s convinced that she can forge her own path at the same time.

-I think the random supervillain plot to get the gangs together has always been kinda stupid, so I’ll probably take that out and have them actually come together through friendship and bleh bleh bleh.

-Once Chloe and Red fix the movie, they end up going home and they have a fun little talk on the beach which mostly resolves their character arcs and stuff.

But that’s just a little tidbit. Like I said, I’d have to rewatch Teen Beach to really put it all together, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.

[judasofsuburbia]

for good || argyle week day one: missing scenes

rating: teen and up || pairing: argyle and jonathan || word count: 1113

day one of @argyledaily 's argyle week: missing scenes

"Has anyone seen Argyle?" Jonathan asks. They're still coming down from El going into Vecna's mindfuck palace via the Surfer Boy pizza dough freezer. Mike and Will are holding El on the floor and the general chaos has died down but everyone is still a little shaken. 

“He's in the van smoking I think,” Mike responds with the indifference that Jonathan has become accustomed to. Even amongst the draining atmosphere that was the last few hours of their lives, Mike can still find a way to be a little shit. 

Jonathan rolls his eyes and pushes open the front door of the Surfer Boy Pizza. Sure enough, the van doors are propped open. But Jonathan doesn't see any smoke.

Jonathan calls out for Argyle and hears a muttered, “In here.”

When Jonathan appears on the other side of the open van doors, Argyle is curled into himself. His chin is resting on his knees, his long hair making a curtain of sorts around his face, and his eyes are streaming with tears. He looks up at Jonathan, absolutely defeated, and Jonathan’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Dude,” Jonathan breathes, coming to sit next to Argyle. His arms hover for a minute before deciding that yes, they should be put around Argyle at this moment, and he does just that.

Jonathan holds him for a few silent minutes, the only noise being Argyle’s sniffles. He’s never held Argyle like this, not seriously. Argyle will throw an arm around him sometimes, leading him to whatever shenanigans they have going on. It’s always playful and is dropped a minute later. This is much, much different.

Argyle’s knees drop down and Jonathan goes to move his arms off but then Argyle is tucking his head into Jonathan’s shoulder and oh, okay, comforting is still going. Argyle's had a few freak outs the last few days, rightfully so, but usually a blunt brought him down to a more mellow place, for better or for worse.

That's not what he needs right now though.

Jonathan starts to rub his arms up and down Argyle’s and Argyle’s breathing starts to become steady again so it must be helping. 

“She does that a lot?” Argyle croaks.

“El?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Jonathan inhales to buy himself some time. “Not since we moved, no.”

Argyle hums and whispers, “Scary.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees softly.

“Is that why you moved?” Argyle asks.

Jonathan could spin this. Openly lie like the NDAs would tell him to do. But god damn it, the last few days have already rendered those documents useless. Argyle’s seen it. Not all of it, but a damn lot of it. Too much of it. Literally just helped them get El in between worlds like that. 

Jonathan’s never been a great liar anyway.

“Yeah,” Jonathan answers. “Hawkins, where we were, kinda the cesspool of all those bad things. We thought we’d get away…maybe it would die down. Go away for good.”

Argyle moves his head so it’s off of Jonathan’s shoulder and looks at him seriously. Jonathan once again feels the need to let go but Argyle’s hand stops him. His strong fingers wrap around Jonathan's.

“Why is it her? She’s so…small. Young. Will, too. Fuck, they all are. Hell, we are! They’re so small, why are they fighting this? Why are you fighting this…thing?” Argyle bursts out in a frantic ramble, his voice desperate and strained. Jonathan flinches and Argyle’s shoulders drop. “Sorry, just…that’s fucked.”

“You’re right,” Jonathan says with a shaky exhale. “It is totally fucked. No one in Hawkins would listen to us. El, she…she came from the people responsible. Or at least, the people that knew about it and interacted with it. They…trained her for it. Knew she was special and exploited her. She escaped then Will got caught up in it a few years back. The…thing. It kidnapped him. El saved him. And kept saving everything over and over again‒”

Argyle’s eyes look so, so sorrowful that Jonathan stops talking. He’s never had to explain this to anyone else before. All the people in his life know about this. Witnessed it firsthand. He knows that it’s fucked but he’s never had to drag someone else into it. 

But Argyle's witnessed a lot in the last few days. Way more than he ever should have had to. Jonathan opens his mouth to apologize but then--

“You’re so brave, my man,” Argyle breathes.

Jonathan freezes. His body feels too warm, his skin itching to get off of his bones. The moment feels too intimate. Yet, he fights his instincts to pull away. Something in his brain tells him this moment is too important.

“I‒” Jonathan’s tongue feels too big for his mouth, “I mean‒you. You-- you're brave. You like... helped us. You could’ve kicked us to the curb days ago.”

“Nah man,” Argyle interrupts, a little stern. “You needed help. I’ll always help you.”

Jonathan sighs with a soft smile and Argyle’s fingernails trace circles into his palm. It sends a shiver up Jonathan’s arm. He doesn’t fight it.

“Is that where your mom is? Down where El‒”

“No,” Jonathan cuts him off to help shake the mental image that started to form. “I don’t where she is. I don’t think it’s Alaska,” Jonathan’s laugh is pitiful. 

“Why would she just leave?” Argyle asks.

Jonathan shrugs and his eyes sting with tears. “I don’t…I don’t know. I wish she hadn’t.”

Argyle wraps his arms around Jonathan’s torso and pulls him in for a hug. Jonathan starts to cry into his hair. Argyle cries again too. Jonathan's never cried in front of him before.

It feels so good to be held while they’re crying. Neither of them can remember the last time someone just held them like this. Let them release everything that was bottled up inside into reckless, ugly sobs. 

It’s the first time they’ve ever truly hugged. This also feels good. 

They must cry into each other for at least five minutes, maybe ten. It’s Argyle who pulls away first and wipes his tears and snot with the sleeve of his shirt. Jonathan lets out a little laugh and pulls his collar up to do the same. They’re still holding each other. Argyle is rubbing circles into the middle of his back.

“How do we end this thing?” Argyle whispers. “For good.”

Jonathan turns his head to look back at the front of the van. He looks back at Argyle, his best friend, really his only friend, whose look of determination sets something alight in him. 

“Are you down for a longer road trip?”

Argyle nods with his lips pursed, the vulnerability of the last few moments slipping into a newly found, almost easy sense of purpose. A look that says, "For you, dude? Anything."

This makes Jonathan smile. 

“Let’s get that motherfucker," Argyle declares.

[showtoonzfan]

What's the point of making Ozzie a demon at this point when he isn't evil, manipulative and dangerous like demons supposed to be? Vivziepop sucks at making demon characters actually demonic, first they don't look remotely like demons and now they don't act like ones? Hazbin Hotel is doomed from the beginning.oof might as well make Hazbin some preschool show at this point.Yeah I have a whole rant on the leaked scripts on HH Lucifer but I'm too tired to say anything about that other than he's Stolas 2.0.Sorry if I sound rude this is really bugging me.

No yeah agreed, the Lucifer thing still bothers me till this day but I’ve already said multiple times on why I dislike his character interpretation. Meanwhile with Ozzie, I’m noticing a lot of fans assume we want him to be…an SA person when…NO….that’s not at all what we mean, at least me. The issue is like you said, this world is lacking in sin itself. It’s just weird how sinners like Beezlebub, Ozzie, Leviathan, and Lucifer are all characterized to be decent or nice when they’re supposed to be the rulers of Hell. Again I’m all for different interpretations but it always feels like Viv is forgetting that she’s writing characters that are in HELL.

It’s also weird that the sins we’ve met aren’t even punishers, if anything they’re more helpful and provide. Bee hosts parties for Hellhounds and let’s them have fun, Ozzie creates sex toys for people across Hell and let’s his succubi go to earth, Mammon from what we’ve seen is a famous rockstar, (though maybe he’ll be an exception?) and Leviathan has been described as a chill surfer dude. It’s just funny when fans think we want her to be biblically accurate when all we want is her to actually do something creative, it feels like she’s not using these characters to her full potential. She has the entire world of hell in her palm and this is what she comes up with regarding the RULERS of it? That most of them are just chill and nice and the rest are assholes but don’t do much? It’s just so boring and doesn’t feel like Hell at all.

[nerdishpursuits]

Can you elaborate on your tags about reading jk Rowlings original post?

Just that I admit that at first, when the JKR discourse started back in the day, I didn’t actually go and read the essay she published on her blog, which is the one that started the entire thing. I did go and read it, eventually, because I tend to like forming my own opinions on things. Personally, I didn’t see any evidence of transphobia. Same with her tweets. Sure, she’s a sarcastic troll some days because she’s, probably, tired of this topic. She was arguing there is such a thing as biological sex and people transition from one to the other in order to embrace living authentically. And that kids should be kids as they have no way to consent. They need to be left alone, or helped to make informed decisions they’ll not regret later in life. Perfectly fine and I’m very much supportive of that.

Everyone should love and live as they please, and no one has the right to ostracize them for it. What she called problematic was the complete denial that biological sex exists, hormone blockers in kids who can’t really consent, self IDing as a woman without actually transitioning and some trans activists saying a biological woman’s experience doesn’t matter. I don’t see that as being transphobic. Just logic and concern.

Over the past few days my partner and I went on a deep dive on this topic and found there’s plenty trans people agreeing with JKR. We’ve seen videos of trans women competing in women’s sports and winning, then commenting they don’t care at all about the medals and winning, but simply enjoy having a good time with their friends at the gym. Why compete in the women’s weight lifting category if you don’t care about winning then? Aussie surfer Bethany Hamilton was dropped by her lifelong sponsor in favor of a trans woman who previously competed, and won, in the men’s division. Swimming, wrestling, roller skating even etc. There’s trans women out there claiming they’re the ones who know what a woman is because they’re forced to think about it, whereas a biological woman is simply born and therefore, inferior. Others who claim they experience period cramps or that their genitalia is superior to a biological woman’s etc. As far as I’ve seen. JKR and other trans people have spoken out against these kind of situations, comments and claims. That’s why I think that cancel culture is so toxic. We need to look at the whole picture and stop claiming things are black or white or the damaging adage of if you’re not with me you’re against me.

I think a very loud minority, who doesn’t represent the entirety of the trans community, might actually be doing more harm than good. Not just to the trans community, who deserves nothing but acceptance and support and love, but the rest of the LGBTQ+ community as well. Pushing a narrative too fast, and forcefully, isn’t helping. It’s actually turning people against us and it’s frustrating and depressing. Denying actual biology and elbowing your way into biological women’s spaces won’t win you their love. Calling them birthing people won’t win them over. Calling them lesser won’t open doors either.

There’s a ton of material to be found on YouTube, there’s podcasts, articles etc. Personally, I think people need to sit down and talk and debate and be diplomatic. I’m not saying JKR isn’t without her faults but I do think she’s been demonized for speaking her mind and voicing her concerns about women’s spaces and kids. It’s as if people can’t have a healthy debate anymore. We need to cancel those who don’t agree with us. It’s the all or nothing mob mentality and, personally, I’m sick of it. This is a nuanced topic and should be treated as such. But now you can’t even be a centrist anymore. You have to be for or against and nothing in between. How about we look at what’s right or wrong, for both sides, and decide accordingly. Why this inane ideological war that radicalizes people who should be having a productive conversation instead.

[inairbinad]

maybe together we can get somewhere

Written for my lovely, talented, and frequent brainworm-sharing friend @stobinesque! Happy birthday, I hope you have the best day!! 🥳💙 This one is also affectionately known as stobin: codependent delivery drivers. Featuring the soulmates soulmating, some Rockie fluff, and just a dash of Steddie. rated: T | wc: 4k | cw: none [read on ao3]

Robin slaps the classified section in front of Steve as he’s making their morning coffee. It’s been another long night of tossing and turning, of holding each other through anxious dreams thanks to the latest round of shit they’ve been through. It’s exhausting, but they’re figuring it out together. Again. Because if all they can do is stay attached at the hip, share a bed, and tell each other everything’s okay as long as they have each other? Well, Robin’s more than willing to do that for Steve. And after two times around this ride already, Robin knows Steve’s more than willing to do that for her too.

So she uses the time not sleeping to scour the paper for job leads. It’s not like she’s dying to work again, but if she and Steve ever want to realize their plans of getting the hell out of Hawkins and moving to the city, they’re gonna need something. If they can’t sleep without each other, they certainly can’t be expected to work without each other. 

Luckily Robin thinks she’s finally stumbled upon something that could be great for both of them.

“I think I found our next excursion through the perils of capitalism,” she grins and takes her mug from Steve, who always knows just how to make her coffee. She’s actually pretty sure they could do each other’s morning routines in their sleep, by now. 

“Yippee,” Steve says with all the enthusiasm of someone on death row. He knows as well as Robin does that they need to find another job after the Family Video quite literally crumbled to dust, but neither of them is exactly eager to dive back into the hells of minimum wage labor. Not to mention that Robin’s more than a little worried that they’re cursed, and the total destruction of both of their previous workplaces might precede them.

“Come on, as long as we do it together it won’t be that bad,” Robin tries to persuade him before telling him what the actual job is.

“You said that about the last one!” Steve points out, looking so scandalized that Robin’s a little annoyed.

“Are you saying you don’t want to work together anymore?”

“No,” Steve course-corrects so quickly that Robin can’t help but laugh at him. “I whine about work about five-hundred percent more if you aren’t there with me, Robbie. You know that.”

“I’m familiar,” she chuckles, thinking back to every single time Keith scheduled Steve to work without her at the video store. And every time they’d come back to work together at Scoops after a few days apart, Steve would have countless tales of people-watching and bizarre customers to share, even before they considered each other certified soulmates.

“So what is it?” Steve asks.

“How would you like to be one of the newest faces of Surfer Boy Pizza?”

“I thought you couldn’t drive,” Keith narrows his eyes at Robin before going back to inspect her newly acquired driver’s license. She figured it was time to get one after the shit hit the fan for the second time in less than a year, so that’s exactly what she did…after a few tries, anyway.

Steve would argue that she still can’t drive, actually looks like the words are poised on the tip of his tongue before he thinks better of it.

Robin can’t exactly blame him, not after all he went through trying to teach her. She has to hold back a wince as she relives the time she popped one of his tires like a balloon just from rolling over a curb. But by some miracle—arguably her impeccable parallel parking skills, which might be the only thing she’s actually good at, go figure—Robin finally did manage to get her license.

So the way Keith is looking at it like it has to be a fake is a little bit insulting.

“It’s newly minted, I’ll admit,” Robin sighs and leans across the counter to try and level with him. How he managed to snag up a manager’s spot here so quickly baffles her, quite honestly, since they just opened. (The rumor is that the owners saw Argyle driving around in his van so frequently that they were inspired to open a franchise. Robin isn’t sure what that says about her potential new employers, but she’s trying not to think about it too hard.)

At least she knows how to talk Keith into things he doesn’t necessarily want to do by now.

“But I’m super careful and am an excellent parallel parker,” she continues. “You won’t find any scratches on your shiny new delivery vans when I’m working, or get calls from customers saying I left a dent in their bumper like the infamous kid that used to drive for that other pizza joint in town.”

“We don’t mention that place in here,” Keith grumbles, knowing full well that he is that infamous kid. It’s another reason Robin is shocked that someone hired him to work at a pizza place again, even if he isn’t driving this time around. Keith passes her license back over before glancing at Steve, who knows to stay quiet and let Robin handle things. He merely shrugs and gives Keith a look that imparts so much confidence in Robin that it makes her heart swell. “Fine, you’re both hired. Again. But—”

Robin cuts him off with a soft whoop, surprised at how excited she is to be able to make a mixtape and drive around town without a manager breathing down her neck for her entire shift. She doesn’t really care much about the handing pizzas off to people part, more so the independence. And then to come back to the store and gab with Steve about it while they wait for their next call.

It maybe doesn’t promise quite as much togetherness at work as they’re accustomed to, but Robin has a feeling they’ll find a way to work around that.

“But—” Keith says again with his supposedly stern face on and points at Robin specifically. “You’ll deliver by bike until I trust you with a van.”

Robin feels the way her shoulders slump like she’s sinking into quicksand. “It’s about to be summer, Keith—”

Steve kicks her ankle and clears his throat loudly before he sells her out like a Judas. “Deal.”

Robin stares daggers at the side of his head like the good old days when he was just the douchebag who left bagel crumbs everywhere he went. He doesn’t look at her, though, just shakes hands with Keith and seals her to her sweaty fate.

Robin doesn’t speak to Steve again until they pull up in front of her house. “I can’t believe you threw me under the proverbial bike like that, dingus.”

“Do you want to hear my plan, or do you want to go back and quit before you even get your little yellow visor?” he asks as he shuts off the Beemer.

“I’ll hear your plan,” Robin sighs, glad he seems to have one at all. “But I reserve the right to reject it out of hand. Visor be damned.”

Steve smiles and twists around in his seat to face her, like whatever he’s come up with excites him.

“Okay, so every time Keith sends you out on your bike, you ride around the corner and wait, then I’ll pick you up in the van. That way we can do all our deliveries together until Keith trusts you to drive on your own.” Steve crosses his arms and grins at her like he’s some kind of evil, work-avoidant genius.

Robin thinks he just might be.

“I guarantee we’ll still cover just as much ground if I push the speed limit, Hawkins is so small,” he continues. “Then we’ll both basically be getting paid to do one job, and Keith never has to know.”

“You’re a genius Steve, you know that?” she figures it can’t hurt to tell him. It breaks her heart a little to watch the shadow of disbelief that crosses his face to hear it.

“I don’t know about that…”

Robin claps a hand over his mouth before he can say anything self-deprecating. “Nope. Take the compliment. I only have one question.”

“Shoot, Bobbie,” Steve says. He’s probably trotting out one of Robin’s favorite nicknames to counteract the fact that his lips are moving against her palm as he talks, which he knows creeps her out. How she understands what he’s saying anyway is beyond her, but she does.

“What do we do on nights that I’m scheduled to work, but you’re not?” Robin asks as she drops her hand.

Steve shrugs and gives her such an easy smile, Robin thinks his knack for scheming is one of her favorite things about him.

“Help cover the gas, and I’ll drive you around anyway,” he says. “But you’re pretty good at convincing Keith to schedule us together already.”

Robin wonders if maybe this job will actually be kind of fun.

Robin’s pretty sure Keith catches on to their little routine after about a week of doing it. But she’s already plotted a route around Hawkins that maximizes the ground they can cover, and Steve’s had all the best places to speed memorized for years, so every customer ends up singing their praises to the point where Keith can’t really bring himself to do anything about it.

She thinks she might never have to drive a delivery van herself as long as they keep this up. That’s fine by Robin, because even if the pay is shit, it’s probably the most fun she’s ever had at work.

It beats slinging ice cream in a sailor outfit, anyway.

People actually seem happy to see Robin when she’s the one who rings the bell, delivering their dinner with a smile and a little bit of a clumsy lilt to her gait. It always gives her an extra dose of confidence when the particularly hot moms of Hawkins are thrilled to see her—whether it’s for closeted sapphic reasons or just gender solidarity, Robin can’t help but enjoy the attention and praises heaped upon her.

“Robin, you look almost as adorable in that uniform as you did in the sailor outfit. Yellow really is a good color on you,” Mrs. Wheeler says to her one night, and Robin nearly faints from it.  

Eventually she starts flirting a little—not with Nancy’s mom, but maybe with some of the others who didn’t birth her friends—just subtly enough to make getting out of the car to talk to the babes on their route worth it. Steve grumbles about letting Robin talk to all the pretty girls at first, but it’s good natured and really Robin can tell that he’s proud of her for being a little charmer.

He doesn’t mind flirting with the dudes instead, anyway. Especially not when Eddie starts ordering pizza way more frequently than is strictly necessary, even for someone still recovering from his first stint in the underworld.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” Robin asks when Steve climbs back in the van with a goofy smile on his face for the fourth time in one week. Between the kids hanging out at Max’s and Eddie calling so often, they spend more time delivering to their new, unearthquaked end of the trailer park than anywhere else.

“Why don’t you just ask Vickie out?” Steve counters, just like he always does. Robin tries to flick some of her Coke at him (that she may or may not have snagged from the work fridge behind Keith’s back), but she fumbles the execution and ends up spilling the whole can on Steve’s shirt. Then Steve’s laughing, but also glaring at her as he whines about his work shirt being sticky now.

Robin tries to stifle her own laughter with apologies, chooses not to point out that Eddie’s laughing from his door, too. She strips her own Surfer Boy tee off, leaving just the white tank top she’s wearing underneath, and hands it to Steve to change into. They share clothes like it’s their lot in life anyway. Robin’s actually kind of convinced that one might’ve been Steve’s shirt to begin with.

“Thanks,” he grumbles and changes hastily. He finally notices Eddie’s still watching once he’s trying to fix his hair in the rearview mirror.

Robin revels in the way his neck flushes, just a teeny bit. Steve waves shyly, Eddie waves back, and she wonders how long they’ll continue to be dumbasses as Steve finally pulls away.

“Where to next?” he asks, and Robin checks her list.

Her groan tells Steve everything he needs to know.

“Vickie’s it is!” He sounds entirely too cheerful about it.

The drive from Eddie’s to Vickie’s is vanishingly short, especially with Steve and Robin’s System of Fast and Efficient Pizza Delivery, patent pending.

“Gimme my shirt back,” Robin implores as Steve pulls up to Vickie’s, feeling exposed all of a sudden in just her tank top. She anxiously looks towards the front door as she waits. The porch light’s on for them, because Vickie is always one of the more courteous customers they’ve got—and one of the best tippers.

“Oh so I’m supposed to sit here shirtless because you don’t want to show off your arms to a pretty girl?” Steve asks, and Robin whips her head around to realize he’s not planning on giving her shirt back at all.

“It’s company policy not to approach a door without your uniform!” Robin shrieks, not because she cares much about company policy, but because Steve should have her back on principle. “Plus, you enjoy being shirtless, you flirt!”

“I don’t think Vickie’s going to mistake you for a missionary,” Steve says blandly, ignoring the mild-slut shaming completely. “Plus, you’ve still got your visor on.”

“Steve,” Robin tries, but he just grins at her without moving a muscle.

“You look great. Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

“Oh god. You did not just say that,” Robin sighs, delaying further just to make fun of him a little. She thinks it’s deserved.

“I did, and I meant it,” Steve raises an eyebrow at her. “Unless you want me to drop this one?”

“No,” Robin tells him with all the annoyance she can muster. She might be awkward, flailing, and hopelessly pining over Vickie already, but she’s not gonna let any of that stop her from going up to that door. “Gimme the damn pizza.”

Steve reaches to get it out of the back and hands it over to Robin with a shit-eating grin. She really regrets not giving him more hell over Eddie back there, but she takes the box and squares her shoulders before making her way up Vickie’s front stairs.

Robin rings the bell and does her best not to fidget the entire time she’s waiting. Which isn’t very long at all. Vickie opens the door with a wide smile in greeting, looking almost angelic in the way the light behind her frames her fiery hair, her eyes bright and excited just because Robin’s there. 

Or maybe she’s just really hungry, a more cynical part of Robin’s brain corrects.

“Veggie pizza?” Robin asks, and Vickie nods.

“Thanks,” Vickie says, already moving to exchange pizza for money. “That was really fast.”

“Oh, well. Steve and I have a system. I kind of buried myself in maps for a night while I worked out the quickest routes around town, then we spent the next couple of days figuring out how to drive them quickly without hitting any pedestrians or breaking too many traffic laws,” Robin says without thinking. No matter how many times they talk, Robin doesn’t seem to be able to stop blurting things out around Vickie.

Vickie just laughs though, leaning a little around Robin so she can wave to Steve who is very obviously watching them from the car.

“That’s a whole lot of dedication to the job,” Vickie comments, and Robin can feel her ears turn pink.

“Sometimes I just plan stuff out when I can’t sleep, even if I never actually end up doing it,” Robin admits.

“Me too,” Vickie says with such soft knowing in her voice that Robin wants to wrap herself up in it like a blanket. For the first time she wonders if maybe Steve isn’t the only person who can calm her nerves enough to help her sleep. She doesn’t have much time to get caught up in the thought, though, because Vickie keeps talking.

“Is that your normal uniform?” she asks, and Robin hopes she’s not imagining the way Vickie’s gaze lingers over her bare shoulders, her chest, her neck. She feels exposed, still, her skin alight with any attention Vickie is willing to give, but it feels nice. So nice, actually, that Robin doesn’t remember how to respond for a moment. “Or did you just want to show off your tan?”

Vickie bites her lip and flushes ever so slightly, like maybe she hadn’t quite meant to say that part out loud. Robin can’t think of anything but how desperate she is to kiss her.

“I really don’t tan,” Robin admits. “Freckle, mostly. Sometimes burn if I’m not careful. Which I guess isn’t surprising, given the history of skin cancer in my family—” Robin hears herself and wants to die. She snaps her mouth shut before she can say anything else horrifying.

“Oh, I burn too! Even with all the sunscreen in the world, sometimes–” Vickie cuts herself off with a nervous laugh. “Well, the freckles look very good, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Robin murmurs, and she thinks maybe she’s blushing enough to look sunburnt now.

“Robin?” Vickie asks, still holding the pizza between them like she’s afraid if she moves the moment might break.

Or maybe that’s just what Robin’s scared of.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me with something real quick, or are you super busy tonight?” Vickie asks. The hopeful way she tilts her head is so precious Robin might implode right there on the spot.

Robin doesn’t care how busy they are, there’s no way she’s not following Vickie inside. “I can help. What’s up?”

“It’s just that my VCR is jammed,” Vickie says, already leading Robin inside and talking over her shoulder. She puts the pizza down on the coffee table and nods toward the TV. Robin ambles over, not sure there’s anything she can do to fix it, but she’s willing to try.

“You worked at Family Video for a while, right?” Vickie asks. Robin nods and tries not to relive every time Vickie came in to rent something and Robin acted like a fool. “Thought maybe you’d have the magic touch with it.”

Robin doesn’t think she’s imagining the flirtatious way that Vickie says magic touch, so she pours all of her focus into the malfunctioning machine in front of her before she malfunctions and melts into a puddle on Vickie’s floor.

She feels Vickie’s eyes watching her as she works and thinks she might melt anyway.

It doesn’t take long to figure out the problem. After some fumbling, Robin manages to untangle some loose tape from inside the deck. She can’t help but think it looks haphazardly shoved in there. “Were you babysitting, or something?”

“No?” Vickie says, voice inexplicably laced with questionable guilt.

“Just seems like it got stuffed in there,” Robin says as she turns around with the tangle on display. “Like maybe a kid was playing with it.”

“Oh. Well. Weird.” Vickie’s biting her lip and looking at her feet all of a sudden. Robin can see the sheen of freshly applied gloss on Vickie’s lips. She wonders what it tastes like.

She also wonders if maybe Vickie put it on just for her.

“Vickie?” Robin’s voice is whisper quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Did you really need my help with the VCR?”

Vickie’s eyes snap to Robin’s face, worried, like she’s been caught out. But then Robin smiles at her, so gently she feels like it might break her own heart just to feel it on her face, and Vickie relaxes her shoulders.

“No,” she admits.

Robin doesn’t know where the courage comes from, what comes over her or how, but one minute she’s standing in Vickie’s living room thinking she might pass out from nerves, and the next she’s cupping Vickie’s cheek with all the casual smoothness Robin’s ever mustered in her life. Then Robin leans in to kiss her.

It’s heady, the power Robin feels just from being the one to move first. It’s like her body was made for this, for gently holding Vickie’s face and tasting the strawberry flavor of her lip gloss, feeling the soft pout of her lips slotting between Robin’s own like puzzle pieces fitting together.

But mostly Robin is soaring because Vickie is kissing her back, fiercely, like maybe this was actually what Vickie was hungry for instead of pizza in the first place.

Robin isn’t entirely sure what being a good kisser entails, at least not when you actually want the person you’re lip to lip with so badly you’re seeing stars. There’s no universe in which Robin thinks this can’t be good, though, because her whole body is tingling from the way Vickie presses up against it, the way she gently slips her hand into Robin’s hair and tilts Robin’s head just so.

Robin feels her visor come tumbling off her head, but she can hardly care when Vickie lets out a delicate moan that leaves her absolutely weak in the knees.

“Vickie,” Robin breathes out when they separate, already wanting to dive in for more. Vickie smiles against Robin’s mouth, kisses the corner of her lips again like she’s worried she missed a spot.

“Yes, Robin?” Vickie asks, suddenly sounding much more confident than she’d looked just a moment before—almost teasing.

“That was really good,” Robin says plainly.

“I agree,” Vickie hums. She pecks Robin on the lips one more time, gentle and quick about it. “And as much as I want to do it again, I think Steve’s waiting for you.”

It’s only then that Robin even hears the distinct sound of the van’s horn honking—two quick beeps to remind her that there’s still two more deliveries they need to make.

“Damn him,” Robin mutters, and Vickie just laughs. Her breath against Robin’s face is minty fresh, and Robin can’t really be expected to function when she knows Vickie planned this whole thing, can she?

“Call me later?” Vickie asks.

Robin nods, but not before kissing her again, deliveries be damned.

“Your lips are swollen,” Steve says first thing when she gets back in the car, dazed and floaty like she’s just taken the best drugs of her life. (This is something Robin actually has a point of reference for now, and she’s easily putting ‘Kisses From Vickie’ at the top of the list.)

“I kissed her,” Robin says, staring straight ahead. Steve squeals like a little girl and bounces in his seat.

“Finally!” he cheers, giving Robin’s shoulders an excited shake. “Are you comatose over there?”

“A little,” Robin admits, but she feels the smile break out on her face like an explosion of fireworks. She sucks in a deep breath and finally looks at Steve. He looks so happy for her she thinks her heart might burst all over again. “I kissed a girl.”

“Was it everything you imagined?” Steve asks, not bothering to hide the hopeless romantic that lives in his chest and pulls all of his heartstrings.

“And then some,” Robin says, hearing how dreamy she sounds and just rolling with it. Steve starts the van up again just as Vickie waves at them both from her front window. She blows Robin a kiss, and Robin thinks she’s died and gone to a heaven she’s not sure she believed in until now.

“Seems this job was worth it after all,” Steve admits.

Robin really can’t disagree.

[snoelledarts]

tell me about don't ask, percy!!

OKAY This one is set in a sort-of AU where after Percy and Annabeth go to college they don't see Nico and Will for like, a handful of years! It's a solangelo fic but from Percy's perspective, which is weird but bear with me LOL. Basically they all get together for the first time in forever and Nico (now 21) has finally hit Puberty(tm) and Percy is flabbergasted. I just think Nico deserves to glow up, and that there should be at least one universe where he gets to be the tallest of the Big Three kids. Snippet under the cut!

When Percy knocks, suitcase in one hand and Annabeth’s cool palm in the other, he’s expecting his mom to answer. But it’s not his wonderful, smile-lined mom with a plateful of fresh blue cookies like he’d been hoping. It’s Nico. 

All the air leaves Percy’s lungs for a second. Sure, Nico had a growth spurt the last time he saw him, but Nico at 17 still kinda looked like a kid. Scrawny, not quite grown into himself, a little underfed and pale despite his best efforts. But now… the last four years have been really kind to him. He’s clearly an adult now. Like Percy would see him on the street and wonder what nearby college he went to kind of adult. His clothes fit right, his black t-shirt tight with a random band logo and intentionally baggy black pants adorned all sorts of chains and embellishments. He looks straight off of some punk kid’s outfit inspiration page. Percy’s stuck between feeling proud and so, so overwhelmed.

“Nico!” Annabeth drops Percy’s hand and lets go of her suitcase, looping her arms around Nico’s lithe middle for a big hug. He looks tanner, his hair curling past his shoulders and his eye-bags less dark, and his face breaks out into a large (distinctly not Hades-like) grin as he leans down to wrap now-toned arms around Annabeth in return. Percy would definitely consider Annabeth tall, but she looks average wrapped in Nico’s arms. 

“Good to see you.” He squeezes her just once, still smiling when he lets her go. One side of his smile comes up just a bit higher than the others, and the tilt of his dark eyebrows always makes his smiles look a little sad, but gods is it good to see him happy and healthy. 

“And good to see you too,” Nico says as he sticks a hand out to shake Percy’s. Absolutely not. 

“Oh, come on!” Percy smacks his hand away and pulls Nico into a crushing hug, pulling him down just a bit so he doesn't feel quite so short. Nico, thankfully, laughs against him, squirming a bit to try and get his arms around Percy too but they’re crushed in between them. Percy eventually pulls back but keeps his hands on Nico’s shoulders. “What are they feeding you at camp?!” He jokes, making a show of the fact that he has to tilt his head up to look Nico in the eyes. He’s only an inch and a half shorter, but it still feels like a whole Hell of a lot compared to the little squirt Nico used to be. 

“Magic,” Nico jokes, just as Will walks up behind him. 

“I thought I heard commotion at the door!” Will’s thousand watt smile comes into view as Nico backs up from the door frame to let Will past, separating himself from Percy’s grip.

They give their proper hello’s to Will too, exchanging hugs.

Will is also much older looking since the last time Percy saw him. He supposes college will do that to a guy. Not much has changed other than he’s a bit square-er than he used to be. Far more jawline than the round baby-face he used to have when he and Nico started dating. Now, instead of boyish charm, he gives more… Texan charm? Surfer boy charm? No, Percy kind of hates both of those. He definitely looks like his dad, though. Apollo’s genes were strong in this one.  

“No, but, really! When did you get so tall?” Percy can’t leave it alone as he and Annabeth haul their meager suitcases through the doorway. 

“Uh, I don’t know? I don’t exactly measure myself everyday,” Nico laughs, which he seems to be doing a lot. Good. Percy can’t help but laugh too at the mental image of Nico against a wall while Will makes a pencil mark next to a wall sticker of a ruler, carefully writing the date next to it like Percy’s mom used to do. 

“I’m definitely a fan,” Will winks at Nico, clearly taking joy in Nico’s blush and the not-really annoyed roll of his eyes. 

Percy opens his mouth to reply something stupid when his mom rushes into the living room. Saved by Sally Jackson once again. 

“Percy!” She rushes over, knowing Percy will drop everything he’s holding to wrap her in a giant hug. He squeezes his mom tight, burying his face in her shoulder and letting all of his other thoughts fall away.

[valhallaas]

California Dreamin’

Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x crybaby!reader

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: Going on a road trip up the California coast to your hometown has its perks when Jake’s taking the wheel.

Warnings: SMUT(18+, minors dni) oral (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink

A/N: was this a dream or is it based off something that actually happened? Who knows. Let me know if you like it and enjoy!

The sun was hot as it beat against your skin. Middle of July and the California summer was unforgiving. You flick the sun visor down before reaching over to fiddle with the radio. Sharp eyes cut over to the driver’s seat when a large hand smacks yours. You couldn’t see his eyes from behind his Raybans, but you know he is giving you a look. What are you supposed to do? You’ve been on the road for four hours and you’re so bored. Going completely out of your mind. He either needs to pull over and let you run free—get some goddamn coffee—or he needs to give you some control inside the car. Sighing, you turn, head hitting the window as you lift your feet to rest on the dashboard.

“Feet off the dash.”

You groan. “It’s my truck, Bagman.”

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s glaring. “I hate when you hang out with Phoenix.”

“I wasn’t. Was with Rooster.”

“Sweetheart, I swear—”

“What?” you snap, finally looking over at him. “What are you going to do? Turn around and go home? I’ll leave your ass on the side of the road.”

It’s so quick you barely see it. The flicker in his eye. He’s angry. Your goddamn mouth. He loves to hate it. There’s anger in his eyes and defiance in yours. You can never quite do what he wants you to do. Always have to do things the hard way. He tries to lure you in with a false sense of security. Like you’ve never played the game before.

“Just a few more miles and we'll find a gas station.” he says looking over at you.

“Can I drive from there?”

“No, you can’t drive, just sit and look pretty.”

Huffing you rest your chin on his shoulder. Peeking out through his window to watch the sun dance with the ocean waves. You grew up six hours north of San Diego. A surfer girl who knew nothing but the ocean. Now you know nothing but the clouds. It’s fitting, you suppose. Toes in the sand and head in the clouds. A couple miles pass. Then a couple more. You're getting antsy and he’s not keeping his word. All you want to do is relieve the tension. You're so wound up from sitting. So busy distracting yourself you don’t notice the lazy trail of his fingertips. Up and down your thigh. Not until they’re pushing under your shorts, brushing against delicate skin.

Releasing a shaky breath against his neck, you can feel his smirk against your hairline. Your fingers fiddle in your lap. Nails picking at your cuticles. Your lips part when you feel his fingers. When you realize just how much trouble you're in.

“Take your shorts off.”

“I—what?”

“Take. Them. Off. I don’t think I stuttered, Crybaby.”

Your breath catches at your call sign. Very rarely, if ever does he call you that. You bite the inside of your cheek as a wave of heat rushes your face, spreading from your chest all the way up your neck. Jake chuckles because he knows. The smug fucker.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

Licking your lips, you lift your hips hooking your thumbs into the elastic band of your shorts catching on to the thin band of your underwear. Goosebumps breakout on your skin even though it was far from cold inside the truck cabin. You didn’t stop pulling at the fabric until they were off your bare feet, your anklet dangling in the California sun before you tossed them beside you.

“That’s right. Be a good girl, baby.”

His voice is cold, empty. You’re not in the presence of your Jake anymore. You like to push and now it’s one of the times that you’ve pushed too far. Moving yourself up so you sat perfectly straight, your hands remained at your sides as your legs spread wide. You don’t look at him, because if you do, he’d fucking break you.

Jake sighs, his head turning slightly to look at you. “Do you know what you did?” Ran your mouth. Like you always do. It’s what you do best. You’re good at it—it gets you what you want. You keep your mouth shut now, though, much to his annoyance. He gives you another pointed look, shaking his head. “Alright, hard way it is.”

You jump when his hand comes down on the inside of your thigh. Deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. You will not cry. He will not get any tears from you. Your gaze stays on the sun watching as it slowly sinks. You’ve still got a few hours before you hit home. A few hours for Lieutenant Seresin to tear you apart. His hand rubs soothingly into the sensitive flesh, easing away the pain he caused. Your tense, refusing to get comfortable. He doesn’t deserve it. The thought crosses your mind the same time another smack comes down on you, the sound loud in the small cabin. It’s the first time you realize that he’s turned the radio off. He wants to hear you in all your glory.

You bite your lip to keep from whining. Not that you can’t or shouldn’t, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. It’s a battle neither of you are going to win.

“I don’t know why you do it.” Jake says, breaking the silence.

“Because it’s fun.”

His hand pauses. That was meant to stay in your head. Like usual, your mouth got away from you. Should he be surprised? No. Is he? Hard to tell, you still won’t look at him. You have to admit you’re a bit proud of yourself. Your voice was firm. It didn’t break or falter like you thought it would. It gives you confidence, makes you brave. Or it makes you stupid, thinking you can get out of this alive.

“What did you say?”

You bite back a smile. “You heard me.”

It is sharp and it stings. A gasp falls from you, your muscles spasming around nothing. His smack hit its mark right on your clit. Groaning, your head falls back against the back window. Yeah, you deserved that one. Chest heaving with every breath, your hands clenching at your sides. Jake’s body shakes next to you with silent mirth.

“I can do this the rest of the way there.”

You sigh. “I just want a break, Jake. A soda, a coffee—to use the goddamn restroom, you fucking control freak.”

Another smack and there’s no holding back the moan that escapes you now. Jake knows what he’s doing. You know where this is going. “This is your last fucking warning,”

“Don’t need it.”

“Fucking brat.” Jake pulls on your hair and turns your head to finally face him. “I’m going to ruin you, Crybaby, and you’re going to beg for it.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Oh, now you want to listen?” His fingers tighten making you wince. “Now you want to do what you're told? I don’t believe you, baby.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Your clit throbs with the pain. You will not cry. Damn it, you will not cry. Your breathing is becoming a little labored. A small whine escaping. You look around, noting that Jake has gotten off the 101. Heart flipping, your teeth dig into your lip, eyes taking him in. Jake Seresin is a good looking man, and he knows it. He’s letting his facial hair grow. It’s the most stubble you’ve ever seen on his face. If you’re being honest, you’re a little desperate to feel it against the inside of your thighs. A muscle ticks in his jaw. He can feel you staring at him. You grin.

The truck slowly comes to a stop, pulled off on a dirt road. No one around as far as you can tell. Swallowing thickly, the silence becomes tense. Jake unbuckles his seatbelt before leaning over and unbuckling yours. You want to huff in annoyance. You aren’t a little kid, even if he does treat you like one. He turns in his seat, spreading his thighs, taking you in. A large hand rubs at his chin, green eyes devouring you.

“Are you going to be good?”

“No.”

Jake sighs, taking his glasses off and sets them on the dash. “I didn’t think so.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“To see if you’d be honest.”

A hum rumbles from him when his fingers finally find your core, slipping between your folds. You’re completely soaked. You hate it when he does this to you, but you wouldn’t act this way if you didn’t want it, and you always want it. Always want him. Your breath locks in your throat when he slips a digit in.

“Shit,” he mutters, his accent tainting his words. “Fuck, baby.”

You whine again, desperation making you weak. You push your hips up to his hand, arching your back. Jake wants you to beg, he wants you a crying, whimpering mess. He pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another. He does it again and again, until you’re moaning, your own hand reaching down to guide it. There are rules. You are not allowed to come. You squeeze his fingers inside you, your warm walls wrapped tight around him. You can feel his grin against your neck. You can’t stop your hips from grounding down on his hand. Desire has taken over. He watches you closely, waiting, grunting when you clench around his fingers again. You’re close, too close.

“Lieutenant,” you breathe,

“There’s my good girl. See, that’s all I wanted. You to be good. Listen and behave. Good girls don’t get punished.” His thumb rubs against your clit, your head falls back, your hand smacking the seat. Jake leans forwards, his nose brushing against yours. “Mhm, but you like getting punished, don’t you, Crybaby?”

It’s only moments later when the white hot pleasure is about to erupt that he pulls his hand completely away from you. Your core throbs with the sudden emptiness. Your eyes snap open to see just how blown out his eyes are. His grip tightens around your throat before he lets go. You should have seen it coming. It annoys you because you only want more.

Slowly a smile creeps on your lips. Your nose wrinkles as you stare up at him. You’ve learned a lot about Jake in the years that you’ve known him. He’s cocky, arrogant, a control freak. He likes order. Why he deals with you, you’ll never know. You fuck up all his plans, a weakness he’d rather die than give up. A brat made just for him.

“This is me being nice.” You tilt your head, shaking it at him. Jake was a lot of things, but nice wasn’t one of them.  “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” He raises a brow.

“Yes Lieutenant.” you murmur.

“C’mon pretty baby. Open your legs.”

You do, not realizing you had closed them. Slowly, you test his patience. Jake doesn’t say anything, only watches. His eyes never move from your pussy. He moves back so he’s sitting up. His arm reaches behind him and he opens the truck door. He gets out and pulls you to the edge of the seat, legs dangling in the open air. You lean up on your elbows to see Jake looking like a dream. He’s on his knees face to face with your pussy. You eye him for a moment, staring at the bulge in his jeans. Not sure what hell you’d pay if he caught you staring. You gasp, body slightly jumping when there’s a sudden slap against your center. Glancing up at Jake to see him with a malicious grin. Fuck. You mewl and writhe at the sting of the slap. He just chuckles darkly, relishing in the sounds you make as you squirm beneath him. Jake’s lips find their way to your skin. Biting, licking, sucking a trail up your tender thighs, teasing you.

“Such a pretty pussy, sweetheart.”

A squeal escapes you when he drags his teeth over your clit. You haven’t even orgasmed yet but he’s pushing you towards overstimulation. He’s purposely driving you crazy, but god, do you love it. You wiggle your hips as his head dips lower, feeling the warmth of his breath ghosting over your core. You instinctively lift your hips up, exposing your dripping cunt to him. You hear him hum in satisfaction as you moan and buck in desperation for his touch.

He sits up suddenly, placing another sharp slap to your clit, making your pussy clench. You’re going to be sore, and he hasn’t properly fucked you. That dick.

“Beg for it.” Jake commands, his hands running up and down your thighs, his fingers getting tantalizingly close to your cunt before he starts moving away again.  

“Please” you whine, finally fucking caving. He could do this for hours, but you can’t. Not right now. You want to touch him. Knowing him though, he’d pull back and away from your reach. Making this a lot more torturous than it is already.  “Please, touch me. Want to feel you, please, Jake, please. I’ll be good, I promise. I promise, I'll be good.”

He sighs, moving back to hover over you. “So needy, sweetheart, but I don’t think you deserve it.”

This isn’t fun anymore. You’re not sure where it got out of control. A small whimper, a warm tongue darting out to wet your lips. All the while Jake is watching you with mock pity. It makes you want to scream.

“All I want is you. All I need is you. Just—please. I, I’ll be good. I’ll sit and look pretty. I can, I can be good—Jake, Jake, Lieutenant—fuck, please.”

It’s the truth. You say a lot of shit when he’s got you under him. He never says much back. Not that you’d let him get a word in. He’s got you right where he wants you. A blubbering, whimpering mess.

Your name falls off his lips in a hushed whisper causing you to look at him, fixating on how his normal green was just a thin ring around black. “Let me see the ache, baby. I know you like it when it hurts.”

You smile. “You can have whatever you want. All you gotta do is ask.”

Jake gives you a breathtaking smile, his hand lifting to your face, thumb running along your cheekbone. Your breath catches. It’s a tender touch, a gentle moment. “My good girl,” he says softly.

Seeing Jake on his knees, face level with your cunt has you whimpering. You can see him smirking, his hot breath fanning over you with every exhale.

“So fucking needy, huh baby?” He questions, hands moving up over your thighs, thick fingers digging into them so tight you’ll have bruises to show for it. “Can’t help but be a bratty little whore, huh? I know why you do it, sweetheart. Whatever gets my attention. It doesn’t even have to be good attention. Huh, baby? I know—you like when I’m mean to you.”

He runs his nose over your center, taking in a deep breath. His hands tighten on your thighs, as if he’s stopping himself from diving right in. You shudder, squeezing your thighs together only for him to pry them apart. You swallow, breathing shallow, taking him in as his large hand lifts one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. Nothing but putty in his hands. Been that way since you met him. You’re still not sure how he knew. Could just see it in you. He could straight out ruin you and you’d thank him. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You give and he takes. Jake is good, great even, at what he does. He’ll never take what he can’t give in return.

His hand trails up your leg, rough calluses catching on your skin. There is no buildup, his finger running through your folds, a hum as he collects it before sticking the digit in his mouth.

“This all for me, sweetheart?” His voice is smug from between your thighs.  “Your cunt tastes so much better, though, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” It comes out in a sigh.

“Yes what?”

You clench around nothing. The forcefulness of his voice. You moan at his words. He gave nothing else before diving in. You whimper, head falling back against the driver's seat.

“Crybaby, you goin’ to give me what I want?” he asks.

A wicked grin, your last act of defiance. “I don’t think so, Lieutenant. We’ve been at this for a while now.”

His tongue is flat as it makes its way through your folds. He’s done this hundreds of times, pushed you over the edge so many times. Every time feels like the first time. A whimper escapes you.

“Fuck, fuck me,” you murmur, hips lifting to roll against his face.

“Sweetheart.” He says, voice thick with amusement. You squirm at the feel of his breath against you. His thumb rolls your clit in circles as his tongue parts your folds. He slips a digit in before replacing it with his tongue.

You grind yourself on his face, his nose catching against your clit. You whisper his name, it falls from your lips like a hymn. He holds you open like a book he’s been dying to read. Licking up the seam of your sex, you jerk, knee barely grazing his cheek.

“Careful, baby.”

He strokes and teases your pussy. Switching off between his thick fingers and his tongue. He has you quivering, moans spilling out of you. The sounds of you clenching around his fingers, his tongue are obscene and he fucking loves it. You feel like you’re in the sky. Head in the clouds and you aren’t sure you’re ever coming back down. You move with every flick of his tongue. Heel digging into his shoulder when he sucks your clit into his warm mouth. It sends you over.

Waves come crashing down. You’re surrounded by your orgasm, on the brink of drowning. It’s dragging you down, making it hard to breathe. The only thing you know is pleasure, pleasure and the familiar sting of pain. You hear it—hear him. The sound of his voice bringing you back to shore. Can hear him calling your name, feel him kissing his way up your body until his hot breath is tickling your ear. Your eyes flutter open, seaglass green meeting your glazed eyes. Jake’s wearing a fucking smug look on his face because he knows you blacked out there for a minute. Groaning, you sit up, pushing him back.

His hand raises to your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “You’re crying.”

God fucking damn it.

You keep silent, doing your best to ignore him as you pull clothes back on. Buckling your seatbelt you hear the engine roar to life, and this time, he doesn’t say anything about your feet on the dash. A promise is a promise. You’ll be good.

The sunset is dancing with the waves. Golden hour slowly melting into dark hues of purples and blues when you look over and see him. All of him. It makes your mouth water. This is you still being good, right? He looks like he needs your help. Slowly you slide over, hand resting on his warm thigh. Your hand tingles from the touch. It’s the first time you’ve touched him in hours and it annoys you that you’ve missed it so much. You’ve never craved someone like you crave him.

  Your fingers sneak beneath his jeans and then you grasp him.

  He jerks, but makes no move to push you away. Instead, he watches you, eyes intense, hungry. You stroke his length until he’s leaking. Full, tip an angry red. You press and squeeze and yet he holds still. He focuses on his breathing. You don’t miss the hesitance in his gaze. He’s slightly worried. Your mouth quirks, hand coming off him to pop the button of his jeans. He does his best to help you get him out. You aren’t as mean as he is. Slowly, you lean forward and take him into your mouth.

  His hand bangs against the steering wheel. Your teeth are blunt as they scrape smoothly along the head of his cock. Your tongue is warm and wet as it flicks at the slit before you wrap it around him. His muscles lock up, he grips your head more firmly. Rolling your eyes, you ease down, slowly hollowing your cheeks.

 Even still—

You pop off of him, strings of spit tangling them together. “Relax,” you urge before swallowing him to the hilt.

Tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing; he was hitting the back of your throat but you had long since lost your gag reflex.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake breathes out, his hands digging into your scalp through your messy hair. “I love when you use your mouth.”

His praise makes you moan, causing Jake to find purchase at the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair with a death grip. Your nose brushes his pubic bone with each movement. It doesn’t take long for him to take control, his hands holding you steady as he fucks himself into your mouth. His cock throbs, swells until he reaches his limit. You feel his balls tighten up, his pleasure coiling before bursting without warning. Instead, he spurts into your mouth, filling it up until your eyes water. You swallow it and then gasp for air. Your nails bite into his thigh as you rest your cheek against his softening cock.

Jake’s silent for a moment, his breathing evening out. You hum when his thumb strokes your cheek. Finally content, you sit up, fingers wiping at the corners of your mouth. You glance down when you feel a tap, seeing him offering you his hand. Fingers tangled with yours, he rests his hand on his thigh.

He kisses the crown of your head. “Don’t think I’m done with you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”