#PLEASE that conversation must have been so fucking funny

[actual-changeling]

"we're platonically having children together. as co workers, of course."

skinner, opening a cabinet and pulling out a half-empty bottle of vodka labeled 'x files incident' and taking a shot:

"uhhh sure. tell me less."

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (20/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's one person that you don't want to see standing in front of your door in the middle of the night.

Warnings: angst (like, a lot), super many swear words, asshole!Charles, a teeny tiny bit of fluff, Raphael

Word Count: 3.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: couldn't let you wait another week after that cliffhanger. thank you to everyone who's been with me from the start. couldn't have done it without you. here's to 20 chapters and so much more to come.

It only takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light and you recognize who is standing in front of your apartment door. The hair, the eyes, the mouth, and as soon as you recognize the face of the person who hurt you, you push against the door with all your strength to slam it shut. 

But Raphael is quicker and shoves his foot in between. "I just want to talk."

You briefly consider kicking his shoe and kicking him out of the door frame. Something that would certainly hurt a lot barefoot. But you can't take a step back to slip into your shoes either, because Raphael would see that as an invitation. So you stand there rooted to the spot, your fingers clasped around the door handle and your shoulder leaning against the door so that at least some counterbalance keeps him from entering the apartment.

"Please, Y/N."

"What about my previous behavior makes it seem like I'm in any way interested in having a conversation with you?" you hiss hostilely in a hushed voice. After all, the neighbors don't need to hear what's going on in the hallway in the middle of the night.

He raises his hands placatingly. "I know you want to sort this out between us as much as I do."

"I want you to leave me the hell alone." You lean against the door a little more so there's more pressure on the sides of his foot, forcing him to pull it out sooner or later.

"This can't really be what you want. Please, Y/N." He tilts his head. "We both know how much you miss me. And how much you need me."

You have to stifle your laughter, even though there's nothing at all funny about this situation. "I'm not the person who keeps calling my ex and suddenly turns up at the door in the middle of the night."

"I just want to explain myself. And that everything is like it used to be."

"Then you shouldn't have been fucking other women." Your tone is icy. "Why can't you just leave me alone and get out of my life?"

Raphael crosses his arms in front of his chest as if he's offended that you're seriously asking him that. "Because I love you. So let me in, please."

You narrow your eyes. "Not a chance."

His gaze, which looked halfway human a moment ago, hardens. "Is he here? Is he listening to us right now?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Don't play dumber than you are. I'm talking about your fucking roommate I spoke to on the phone the other day." He puts a palm against the door and you feel his weight pressing against you. "Is he here?"

By now you're bracing yourself against the door with all your weight. Your heart is hammering in your chest. Raphael is not someone who would hurt anyone else. But his cold stare and the pressure against the door make you think otherwise. Must make you think something else to protect yourself. If he manages to walk through that door - thank God Charles is in Italy.

"This is none of your business," you try to say as normally as possible. 

"If some random guy is fucking my girlfriend, then it is definitely my business."

"I'm not your girlfriend, remember? You cheated on me and dumped me." You take a deep breath to get rid of the tremor in your voice. "So just leave me alone. I don't want anything more to do with you."

Raphael laughs. "I didn't cheat on you." When you raise an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "My God, so I slept with a few women, so what? I had needs. And you didn't want to." 

You're on the verge of crushing his foot. "Are you actually listening to yourself? Do you hear the complete bullshit you're talking?" 

"Don't be like that. I bet you've been sleeping with your roommate to get one over on me, too." He leans a little in your direction. "Why don't you explain to me why you slept with him but not with me, your boyfriend?" When you don't answer him, but just look at him venomously, a disgusting grin spreads across his face. "I'm telling you: because you're a little bitch." He takes his hand off the door and instantly your body relaxes a little. But the calm doesn't last long. "Did you hear that?" Raphael suddenly yells through the hallway, waking up all the neighbors within a 200-meter radius. "She's a little bitch. Come and get her. She really gets it on with everyone."

You open the door a little, but only to stand fully in the doorway. "Are you crazy? Be quiet, you'll wake up the whole of Monaco!"

His head jerks in your direction. "Why? Don't you want your roommate to know who you really are?"

If Raphael hadn't been shouting like that, you would certainly have heard the loud footsteps coming up the stairs. But all you see is a shadow and then you see familiar green eyes looking into yours. Charles is standing on the top step of the stairs, his eyes fixed on you, but before you can say anything, ask him why he's not in Italy, his gaze flits to Raphael and even from a distance you can see that Charles' body is tensing. 

Raphael follows your eyes and takes a step back when he sees your roommate standing in front of him. Charles could have been anyone - a neighbor complaining about the noise, a delivery man dropping off food - but from the way the Monegasque is glaring at your ex, there's no doubt. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?" Raphael runs his fingers nervously through his hair before taking a step in Charles' direction and holding out his hand. "Wow, it's an honor to meet you! I'm a big fan!"

Charles Leclerc? Honor? Big fan?

Charles looks down at the outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake before he pushes past the man without answering and positions himself in front of you. You see his tense back muscles dance beneath his sweater as he turns to Raphael. "You should go."

"I think you've got this whole thing wrong," your ex tries to wriggle out of the situation. "Y/N is my girlfriend and we-"

"Ex-girlfriend," the brunette interjects without batting an eyelid.

Raphael scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Eh, we're just trying to sort that out. Would you please give us a moment so we can work this out?"

Charles doesn't even need to turn around to know that's the last thing you want. "No. I'm sure there's nothing to sort out. I'm not going to ask you to leave again."

Your ex snorts and raises his hands placatingly. "I don't want to argue with you. Like I said, I'm a huge fan and I watch every race. But the matter only involves Y/N and me, which is why I'm asking you to step aside so we can work this out." 

"And I said no." His tone is cool and calm, almost threatening, and his gaze is so piercing it sends a cold shiver down your spine.

Raphael rolls his eyes. "And I thought you were a cool guy. That's how you come across on TV, anyway." He takes a step towards you both and Charles pushes himself completely in front of you so that you can no longer see Raphael. "Your little girlfriend there is a slut, did you know that? A stupid little whore who-"

"Do you actually like your job? You still work in accounting at this one company, don't you? With the emphasis on 'still'," Charles asks calmly. As your ex takes a step back, Charles takes a step forward. "So if you want to keep it, I suggest you leave Y/N alone once and for all. You won't show up here, you won't call her again, you won't even think about her. And if you even think of telling anyone about this, I'll make sure you can't find a job anywhere. Do you understand me?" When your ex doesn't answer, Charles takes another step, causing Raphael to flinch and almost fall down the stairs. "Did you hear me?"

"Clearly and distinctly."

"Good." You can hear Charles' friendly smile. "Have a good evening, then." He looks after Raphael, who quickly scurries down the stairs, and only turns to you as the front door slams shut. 

But instead of asking you if everything is all right, he storms past you into the apartment without a word. You quickly close the door behind you, follow him on foot and find him in the bedroom, where he pulls a large sports bag out of the chest of drawers, which he carelessly throws onto the rumpled bed. He starts to clear out the closet.

"Charles?" you ask hesitantly, but remain standing in the doorway. "What are you doing?" When he doesn't answer, but pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and taps on it briefly before pocketing it again, you enter the room. "Charles? Say something, please."

"What do you want to hear from me?" he asks coldly, grabbing some clothes from the closet. Only when you take a closer look do you realize that these are your clothes that didn't fit in your small suitcase. 

"I don't know," you answer helplessly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't even look at you. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm packing your things." He stuffs one of your shirts into the small side pocket. "So we can finally move out of here."

Confused, you look at him and sit on the edge of the bed. Far enough away from him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think you're going to stay here one more day after your crazy ex turned up? You were going to move out anyway, so we might as well get this over with."

You had told him that you were leaving this apartment, but you never expected him to throw you out of the apartment himself. Especially not today, when he wasn't supposed to be in Monaco, but in Italy. "Are you kicking me out?"

Charles zippers up the bag before placing it next to the suitcase and pulling the next bag out of the dresser and fills it with clothes. "Didn't you listen to me? We're moving out. I'm not leaving you alone in this apartment for another moment."

Charles's change of mood almost gives you whiplash. Yesterday he threw the nastiest words at you, made you cry and hurt you so much that you were seriously considering leaving the country. And now he's standing there packing your things into sports bags because he what? Doesn't want your ex to come back here to harass you again?

Puzzled, you sit on the bed while Charles goes through the apartment and collects all the personal belongings he can find. 

Why is he here when he's supposed to be in Italy? Why is he packing your things so that you can move out of this apartment if he doesn't care about you? And the biggest question is - how does Raphael know Charles? What races was he talking about? Why does he know him from TV?

Who is Charles Leclerc?

"Here, get changed," he snaps you out of your thoughts and throws you a pair of sweatpants and the white sweater he was wearing in the bookstore. "It's freezing outside and I don't want you to freeze to death." He grabs the bags and disappears out of the bedroom to give you some privacy. 

You quickly change, pull his sweater over your head and as you breathe in his scent, you could cry. The fact that Charles is here, defending you after he treated you so badly, confuses you so much that you don't know which way is up and which way is down. After yesterday, you hate him, you want to hate him, but Lando's words haunt your mind and apparently there's some truth to them, because otherwise Charles wouldn't have driven all the way to Monaco in the middle of the night. 

But why is he here? Why did he leave his meetings so much earlier? Did he feel guilty? Did Lando talk to him? Why is he back here with you after just one day?

He doesn't even look at you when you leave the bedroom in his clothes. He just grabs the bags and your suitcase and you're about to ask him if you should carry something too, but he's already disappeared out of the front door and into the dark hallway. You quickly grab the last of your belongings and follow him down the stairs, but instead of heading for the underground parking garage, he leaves the house and heads towards the street. 

"Where are you going?" you ask, out of breath, when you finally catch up with him. Without a word, he stops in front of a black car with a red and white stripe across it. It looks expensive, much more expensive than your old Renault, which is only confirmed by the horse on the hood and rims. "Whose car is this?"

"Get in," he says curtly as he unlocks the luxury ride and starts to put the bags away. When you don't move, he turns to you. "I won't say it again. Get in the damn car, Y/N."

"Why?" you ask, confused and also a little desperate. "Why would I get in the car with you? Give me one good reason."

Annoyed, he runs his hand through his hair so that it stands on end. "Either you get in the car now or I'll make you. It's your decision."

You cross your arms in front of your chest. By now you're annoyed by his behavior. "You can't force me."

"You bet I can." He takes a step closer so that you can feel his warm breath on your face. "Get in the fucking car."

There's a twinkle in his green eyes that stops you from challenging him. Silently, you get in on the passenger side of the car and plop down on the leather seat as Charles circles the hood. A few minutes later, as you're driving along Monaco's streets, the silence between you is unbearable. 

"Where are we going?" you ask, but get no answer. The Monegasque drives the car over the asphalt with an angry look on his face, even driving too fast, but he doesn't seem to care. "At least you can tell me where you're taking me. You owe me that after you dragged me out of the apartment."

"We're going to my other place."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "The one Annika lives in?"

Charles takes a turn without using his blinker. "Yes."

"And how do you picture that?" You turn in his direction. "You want me to share the apartment with your ex? Are you completely insane?"

He exhales loudly. "She won't be there when we get there."

"We? What do you mean 'we'?"

"I have to stay somewhere. Now that we both can't stay in the second apartment anymore."

Your voice sounds a little shrill as you answer him. "I wasn't planning on moving out of one apartment so I could move into another with you. Drive me to a hotel or somewhere else, but I don't want to live with you."

After all, he was the reason you wanted to move out of the apartment in the first place. He treated you badly, let you down - why should you spend another night with him? Especially since he still seems angry with you?

As the car comes to a halt, he looks over at you. "I don't care what you want right now. You're staying here tonight where I know you're okay and that asshole can't get too close to you. Tomorrow you can throw every insult you can think of at me, but right now you do what I tell you. Do you understand me?"

His authoritative and commanding tone leaves no room for discussion, so you just nod silently and get out of the car. You are in an underground parking garage, similar to the other one, but there are other cars here. Expensive cars, like the Ferrari you drove here in. 

Are these all his cars? Where did Charles get the money for a Ferrari? What-

"Come on. I won't wait forever." His voice brings you back to reality and like a toddler you follow him out of the garage, into the elevator and finally into the apartment, which is surprisingly empty. You don't have a moment's peace to look around as Charles has already unlocked a room and put your things inside.

"The guest room is unused." He takes a deep breath and exhales. "I know it's not the best solution for everything here, but I can't change it now. If you want to move out tomorrow, then do so. But please do me a favor and stay here tonight." His expression is softer and his voice is a little warmer than it was a few minutes ago, but that doesn't make you forget how the evening went.

"I'll be gone in the morning," you reply stubbornly, but you can feel your heart beating fast. Charles just nods and leaves you in the hallway so that you can enter your room undisturbed and keep to yourself. 

After closing the door behind you, you take off your warm clothes and fall onto the bed in your underwear without turning on the light. It is unused, the comforter is spread out on the mattress and the pillows feel as plush as if they had just been fluffed up. But as soon as your head touches the soft fabric and you breathe in, you are completely enveloped in Charles' scent. And you can't stop the tears streaming down your face as your body finally comes to rest.

The fact that Raphael suddenly turned up on your doorstep in the middle of the night has already thrown you off course. You never expected him to have the nerve to show up at your place - a pretty stupid thought when you remember that he had already tried to find you there recently. But actually seeing him, listening to his garbage, really ruined the evening that Lando had actually saved so far. 

And then came Charles, your knight in shining armour, who stood up for you so heroically and defended you, even though he had broken your heart just one day before. 

His behavior is completely at odds with what he's doing.

He drags you out of the apartment so that Raphael can no longer find you there, but forces you to go with him to this apartment, even though he knows that you don't want to have anything more to do with him. 

He packs your things, wants you to spend the night with him so he can be sure you're safe, but is so cold and dismissive to you that you might think Charles has multiple personalities. 

And then there's the fact that Raphael seems to know him. Even his full name. And he didn't pronounce it the way you do with people you just haven't seen for a long time but happen to meet on the street. His intonation was different, as if the name Charles Leclerc carried weight, as if he was something special, as if you had to know him. But who the hell is Charles Leclerc?

Is he the man who took you in when you didn't know where to go? The one in whom you found a friend you never really wanted to miss? The one you fell in love with without even wanting to?

Or is he the man who hurt you, rejected you, only to stand up for you in a domineering and possessive way? The one who took your heart and trampled on it, only to do everything he could to keep you safe a day later?

Who is Charles Leclerc?

Your shoulders shake and your breath comes in painful gasps as you wrap your arms around your middle and press your face into the pillow. Your throat feels constricted, your blood is pounding in your ears and your heart is beating so fast it feels like it wants to jump out of your chest. And this headache. They make you blind and deaf, which is why you don't notice the door to your room quietly opening and then falling back into the lock. 

Only when you feel the mattress lower behind you do you realize that Charles is with you. You want to turn to him, scream at him and send him packing, but you don't get the chance. Your tears stifle every sound and your body is shaking so badly that you can do nothing but lie there.

You don't question it when you feel Charles' chest against your back. "I'm here," he whispers softly as he wraps his arm around you and hugs you tightly. His other hand finds its way into your hair, which he strokes gently as his touch warms you. "It's all right, mon amour. I'm here," he repeats, tangling his bare legs with yours to pull you even closer to him. Not a piece of paper, not even a hair fits between you. 

Charles' skin is soft and smooth against yours, you feel the tiny hairs of his forearm against yours as he reaches out to grab your hand and finally intertwines your fingers. It feels like they were made for this. As if you were made for him. 

You want to turn around, to look at him, but his iron grip around your middle won't allow it, so you just press yourself against him, as close as you can, to be enveloped by him. By his smell, his warmth. Him. 

"Charles," you sigh into the darkness and feel the tip of his nose against your neck. 

"I'm here, mon amour." He presses a feather-light kiss to your bare shoulder. "I'm here as long as you'll let me."

next part

[totalswag]

how much did you drink? — RAFE CAMERON

authors note hi loves!! i know i disappeared for awhile, my personal life got extremely busy and i never had time to write on my computer. i'm so excited to be back and writing for you guys though. this fic has been in my google doc for small minute and i got a request from an anon somewhat similar to this fic too, lol.

summary y/n getting a little too drunk at a party and rafe has to come pick her up

warnings drinking, swearing, smoking, sexual tension, implied smut?

Lets face it, you were drunk, like really drunk.

You made the decision to come out on a Saturday night with Sarah to John B’s. People dancing, making out everywhere, smoking, drinking, along with loud music.

As the night progressed you were on the table dancing with your best friend with bottles of tequila in your hands, everyone cheering you two on as you continued dancing.

“I’m having so much fun tonight” your words are slurring at this point. 

“Me too,” your friend giggled.

Topper and Kelce shook their heads while they stood near the kitchen. Rafe, your boyfriend, told Topper and Kelce to watch you simply because he wasn't at the party.

“She's about to do something dumb” Topper murmurs, and Kelce nods in agreement.

Kelce replies, "I think it's time we called Rafe."

Topper calls Rafe, while Kelce tries to get you off the table but fails when you say no and to go away so you can drink more. Kelce turns around, sending Topper the clear message that Rafe needs to arrive as quickly as possible.

"Yo, Rafe, sorry for bothering you, but Y/N is really drunk and dancing on the table, and she won't listen to us" Topper scratched his chin, glancing at Kelce, who was attempting to get you off the table.

"Are you being serious?" Rafe must have been in a deep sleep based on the sound of his voice. 

"Yeah, could you pick her up?" He begs.

Topper can hear Rafe's end shifting, "I'll be there soon, just keep an eye on here, please." Rafe sighs and hangs up the phone. 

Meanwhile, Topper and Kelce were eventually able to get you off the table by claiming a drinking game was about to begin, which was correct. You stood in the kitchen with the guys and few other friends watching while others set out the red solo cups on the board.

Your friends came into the kitchen to see what you were doing and they were worried about you because they couldn’t find you.

"These two have me on lock down so I don't drink anymore but oddly waiting to play a drinking game," you add, staring at the girls before wandering your gaze over to Kelce and Topper, who are in the middle of a conversation with a few of their buddies.

Your friends laugh, shaking their heads, telling you, you should still be drinking and having fun.

"I'm so drunk right now, it's not even funny," you hiccuped as your body swayed back and forth, almost knocking you off your feet.

Topper leaned over the counter, grabbing you before you fell.

"Y/N, please drink the water," he says as he puts the water bottle out to you, you look at him, shaking your head as you push it away with your hand.

"Drink the water now, Y/N, we're going home," your boyfriend said, filling your ears. You circle around, placing your arms around his waist, excited. 

"You guys are no fun," you scoff.

"That hangover isn't going to be fun in the morning," Rafe responds. 

“How much did you drink baby?” he asks, lifting your chin up, making eye contact with you.

“I drank a lot and smoked too” you answered truthly, hiccuping.

"You are so hot, I could just fu-" you run your hands down his stomach, removing his shirt a little and gliding your hands on his exposed skin. Rafe stopped you before you could complete your sentence.

Usually when you drink too much and Rafe’s around you get very touchy with him and start saying unholy words from your mouth which leads to fucking or you need to really sober up. You can’t stop but think of how good he looks right now.

Rafe comes to these types of parties with you but tonight he wasn’t feeling it. He trusts you going to parties with your friends or the guys cause he knows you would never do anything that can hurt your relationship.

"All right, that's enough for the night. "Seriously, drink the water," he says, twisting the cap and handing you the water to sip. You realized nothing else would work, so you drank the water.

Rafe watched as you drank the water. When you get this drunk no one else can handle you unless it’s Rafe because he’s been around you enough to know. Your best friends get drunk with you so them being drunk trying to help you too doesn’t make the situation better.

When you finished the water, you wrapped your arms around Rafe, nuzzling your face in his chest mumbling words. He took it as a sign that you were ready to leave the party.

“We’ll walk you two out” Topper suggested to Rafe.

“Yeah that would be helpful, thank you” picking you up in braid style.

You lifted your head from Rafe's chest, confused as to why he began guiding you from the kitchen to the front door. "Why are we leaving?" you asked as you pulled away. "I want to stay," you protest, pointing back to your friends. 

Rafe sighs, closing his eyes, "baby you are drunk and have been drinking a lot" he pauses, "you need to rest too" you pout.

“Say goodnight to them real quick,”

When you walk back to the kitchen your friends eye’s light up but faces drop when you tell them you were saying goodnight. They told you to be safe and see you tomorrow.

“I better get dick out of this” you sarcastically state, making the girls laugh.

“I love you girls” you wave as you leave the kitchen.

You flip Rafe off as you walk past him, giving him a blank stare. He throws his hands in the air, shaking his head, then follows you out the door.

The car ride to his house took five minutes. You were knocked out in the passenger seat curled up in a ball. You woke up when you felt the truck come to a complete stop. Rafe opened the door, carrying you inside.

You start singing a song from the party when you enter the Cameron household. Rafe chuckled as he locked the door then came behind you.

“You need to stay quiet because everyone's sleeping,” Rafe whispered softly.

“Oh my bad” you quickly stop, putting your hand over your mouth.

He lays you on his bed and goes in his closet for clothes for you. He comes back with sweats and one of your favorite t-shirts of his. Before you could lift your shirt, he stopped you.

“Let me do it please” he kisses your cheek.

He led you into the bathroom to remove your makeup and then dab water on your face to freshen it up before taking you into bed. When you spent the night, there was Advil and ice water on your side of the bed. 

Rafe could tell you were still drunk by your facial expressions.

In your drunken state, seeing the Advil and water on the nightstand warms your heart, "Thank you baby," you look up, then pop the Advil in your mouth and take a long sip of the water. 

"Need to make sure my girl is okay," he grins.

"How about we get into bed and sleep?" He then pulls you both into bed.

You quickly close your eyes when your head makes contact with his chest.

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[watchyourbuck]

I really wanted to NOT analyze this scene bc it’s been done so many times but I’m a public menace, so

Buck and Eddie and Chris are at Buck’s loft, after a mission and a less than pleasant conversation w Bobby, and here are my thoughts:

We see Buck (who’s upset), cooking for Chris and Eddie, when — in the whole arc —, we never see him cook for Taylor (or Ali, or really, anyone else but the 118).

Recently therapied™️ Eddie doesn’t give a flying fuck about being interim captain, but has enough eyes to see Buck does. His voice softens, and he gives him foot to discuss his own feelings without hiding them bc Eddie doesn’t share them. (Bonus points bc he makes the same face he made after the lawsuit, in THE Kitchen Scene, when he tells Buck ‘not to beat himself up about it.’).

“Lucy is great– whatever-,” Buck says absentmindedly, and we get a glimpse of Eddie’s smug little face. It kind of implies he knows about the kiss, but opts to say nothing. He did, in fact, cheat on Taylor (and Chris is in the room). But the grin falls a little. Maybe he’s not so nonchalant about it, after all. Or maybe, he knows they (she and Buck) never stood a chance. He looks – relieved, almost.

Eddie feels comfortable enough to keep actually playing with his kid. Enough to win, actually. He doesn’t feel that comfortable at his parent’s house (5x17).

Buck keeps talking about this, and even if he acts like he doesn’t care (and Eddie has dealt with that sarcastic-coping-mechanism-tone Buck does one too many times), he’s visibly angry, so Eddie changes the subject. “What are you offering?”

“Right now? Bobby’s famous lasagna.” Okay, this doesn’t scream ‘I’m cooking you my family recipes’ to anyone else?

Then we have The Diaz’ compliments, which not only sound genuine, but make Buck grin. Like he did something right. Besides, it took him ‘three tries to get it right.’ Interesting, when other in the show has Buck not given up immediately after something doesn’t go his way? Surely, this had to be something he was very keen on achieving, cuz he barely cooks for himself.

Chris’ little ‘you don’t even have a couch’ is very funny to me. Because he’s a kid and he’s joking, or being smart. But Chris isn’t my focus here, it’s Eddie’s reaction. We do know kids absorb what their parents feel and say, right? Eddie laughs, so he must think alike. He looks almost drunk — all flushed cheeks, big smile, squinted eyes.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends” and the IMMEDIATE correction Eddie makes. We know Buck is at his most comfortable with the Diaz boys, so we know he’s not putting on a show. What he says – he means. Of the heart speaks the mouth. That’s how he feels about his past relationships, not the correction Eddie makes. (And if you may let me be annoying here, it’s kinda interesting, the correction. It sounds almost – hopeful. Eddie knows it’s supposed to be the way he corrects him to be, but in a way, he corrects him just to guarantee himself that that’s not what Buck meant ((and it’s not.)).

The way that Buck stops, stares and then plunges down on the chair. ‘Right,’ he thinks, ‘the girlfriends came with couches.’ Again, NOT his initial thought. He hides behind a grin.

Eddie is not careful mentioning Taylor. Buck isn’t heartbroken. He even mentions her in Chris’ presence, and we know by history they’ve always been careful. (If you ask me, that’s the reason they didn’t hook up after the ‘you wanna go for the title?’ scene).

“Maybe I don’t wanna pick the wrong couch again.” Please stay here for a second. In all objectivity we’re talking about furniture…, right? This is a three-street conversation, because Chris added himself to it, yet Buck won’t look at him. He looks at Eddie, very intently. As if… as if he’s saying something different with his words. Huh, whatever could he mean? (Faint whispers of: ‘your couch, you, I wanna pick you, I wanna pick you, pick me, too.’) And then Eddie, who is Oblivious Firefighter of the Year (awarded) brings the conversation down again to the actual topic, and Buck deflates, like his balloon has been popped. His eyes literally stop glimmering.

So, is this a conversation two best friends who are comfortable in that title would have?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

|| Across The Spiderverse •Incorrect Quotes• ||

Miguel O’Hara: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Reader.: It was autocorrect.

Miguel O’Hara: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Reader.: Yes.

•

Miguel O’Hara: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.

Reader: Hi, I’m ‘things’.

•

Miguel O’Hara: Y/n, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

Reader, naked in Miguel O’Hara's bed: No, I absolutely do not.

Miguel O’Hara, already taking off their clothes: Fuck... Me neither.

•

Reader: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Peter B. Parker: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Reader: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Miguel O’Hara, on a walkie talkie: This is Miguel O’Hara, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

•

Peter B. Parker: This totally sucks, man.

Miguel O’Hara: This is horrible.

Peter B. Parker: Yeah, I know, I mean look at today’s news.

Miguel O’Hara: No, it’s not that, it’s Y/n.

Miguel O’Hara: It’s just like, I can’t get them out of my head and every time I look at them I have this pains in my chest, and I just know it’s their fault, that bitch!

•

Reader: *yawns*

Miguel O’Hara: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.

Reader: Then you must be exhuasted.

Peter B. Parker: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

•

Peter B. Parker: We have a problem.

Miguel O’Hara: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Reader: Ha!

•

Miguel O’Hara: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.

Reader: Aren't you forgetting something?

Miguel O’Hara: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Reader's forehead before running out.*

Reader: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

•

Miguel O’Hara: I love you.

Reader, not paying attention: What was that?

Miguel O’Hara: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

•

Peter B. Parker: Is this your plan B?

Reader: Technically, this is plan P.

Peter B. Parker: Plan P? Is there a plan M?

Reader: Yes, but I marry Miguel in plan M.

Miguel O’Hara: I like plan M.

•

Peter B. Parker: I didn't drink that much last night.

Miguel O’Hara: You were flirting with Y/n.

Peter B. Parker: So what? They're my partner.

Miguel O’Hara: You asked if they were single.

Miguel O’Hara: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

•

Reader: Would you like something to drink? *opens the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Miguel O’Hara: Spiders?

Reader: Spiders it is then.

Miguel O’Hara: No, that wasn't-

* But you were already pouring them a brimming glass of spiders…*

•

Reader: I made tea.

Miguel O’Hara: I don’t want tea.

Reader: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Miguel O’Hara: Then why are you telling me?

Reader: It is a conversation starter.

Miguel O’Hara: That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Reader: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

•

Reader: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Miguel O’Hara: I do have a sense of humor you know

Reader: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Miguel O’Hara: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

•

Reader: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Miguel O’Hara: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Peter B Parker: Smad.

•

Reader: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Miguel O’Hara: *turning to Peter* How tall are you?

•

Miles Morales: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Reader: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Peter B Parker: I got distracted about halfway through.

Miguel O’Hara: Ignoring you was a conscious decision

•

Reader: Yo is Miles sleeping or dead?

Miguel O’Hara: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts.

Peter B Parker: Yeah, so did I.

Miles Morales: Okay first of all, fuck you-

•

Reader, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Miguel O’Hara, pulling out an Uno card: +4

Peter B Parker, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you

Miles Morales, trembling: What are we playing

•

Reader: Why is Miguel so sad?

Peter B Parker: They took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Reader: And...?

Miguel O’Hara: I got Miles Morales.

•

Reader: I think we're missing something.

Miguel O’Hara: Teamwork?

Peter B Parker: Cohesion?

Miles Morales: A general sense of what we’re doing?

•

Reader: I think Miles Morales was right.

Miguel O’Hara: I'm surprised they haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'

Peter B Parker: They wouldn't do that.

Miles Morales: You're right, Peter. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.

Miles Morales: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Miles Morales Told You So' on the back*

•

Reader: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.

Miguel O’Hara: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.

Peter B Parker: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

•

Reader: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.

Miguel O’Hara: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Peter Parker isn’t

•

Reader: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Miguel O’Hara: Wasn't Peter with you?

Peter B Parker: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

•

Reader: HELP! I TOLD PETER I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Miguel O’Hara, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

•

Reader: You look nice, I want to kiss you.

Miguel O’Hara: What?

Reader: I SAID IF YOU DIED, I WOULDN’T MISS YOU.

•

Reader: As top in this relationship, I think we should-

Miguel O’Hara: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

•

Miguel : Y/n and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-

Reader: Sentences.

Miguel : Don't interrupt me.

•

Miguel: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.

Reader: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?

Miguel: No! Four to five seconds!

Reader: Too late!!!

•

Miguel: I'm so tough, I'm on alert even when there's no danger!

Reader: Miguel, that's PTSD.

[dxrksong]

Just a funny what if

The classic batfam being used to summon the ghost king scenario. Danny claws his way out of the circle and tries to intimidate everyone

Danny: WHO DARES-JOHNNY13?! Is THIS Where you've been this whole time?!

Jason: unfortunately.

Danny: wait, are you alive?!

Jason: unfortunately.

Danny: is that your family???

Jason: UNFORTUNATELY

[Later]

Jason: kid, wait up!

Danny: ?? What's up?

Jason: take me with you, PLEASE! I can't deal with their constant drama!!

Danny: John-JASON, I really don't think That's a good idea! With your family being overprotective as it is, your.....weird biology of being essentially a halfa ZOMBIE. I'm honestly concerned about what would happen if you went back into the zone.

Jason: kid please! There's hardly any ambient ectoplasm here that ISN'T tainted to high hell! Look, you can get a doctor or something if it'll make you feel better but I REALLY need to go back!!!!

Danny: *sighs* fine fine! I'll get frostbite. Just wait here for a little bit!

Jason: YES!!! THANK YOU KID!!! YOURE A LIFESAVER!!!!

Danny: uh huh, just don't die again. Oh, and btw, you might wanna start running now.

Jason: huh? Why?

The batfam, misunderstanding that entire conversation and gearing up to smother and protect Jason at all cost:

The Bike who drove itself home the moment Danny appeared because it knew Jason was gonna be fine:

---------

Frostbite isn't one for swearing

For one he's more than often surrounded by younglings and the other is to maintain the image of his tribe. For if he were to start swearing like a sailor, the rest of the yeti tribe will be sure to follow. And of course it'd be nearly impossible to reverse such a thing.

So when he met with the great one's distressed friend, all he could do was freeze as he desperately tried to pick his words VERY carefully.

What....

What the FUCK was he LOOKING at?!

This.....this poor thing is SERIOUSLY ILL!!

Oh-wait! The great one was saying something, he completely tuned him out!

FB: Great one, we MUST get him to the infirmary IMMEDIATELY!!

Danny: huh? Why? Is it really that bad- *Frostbite grabs Jason and runs back into the zone* -and wow he didn't even wait, this must be serious.

------

Frostbite......has no words.....

This......shouldn't be possible....

And yet for some reason it is....

FB: You have a parasite.

Jason: huh?? Like a virus?

FB: yes.....Which shouldn't be possible.

Jason: what?? How? I'm technically alive right?

FB: yes, but that's not why. It's the parasite itself, that's the impossibility!

Danny: what do you mean?

FB: it appears the parasite is mimicking a central nervous and vein system out of ectoplasm not unlike what the Great one has, hence your reserection.

Jason: and that means???

FB: it essentially means you have a second core! But it appears unfinished. Though I am curious as to WHY it's using itself so diligently to keep you alive...

Danny: so what were to happen if we were to remove it?

Jason: ?!?!?!

FB: he would have to be put in an intensive care treatment immediately as the shock would no doubt threaten to stop his heart or rupture his core.

Jason, trying to keep himself calm: so there's no way to fix this?

FB: on the contrary, it appears your body might be trying to absorb it. Or more specifically the corrupted ectoplasm that came with it.

Jason: ok?! And??!

FB: well if we get rid of the corrupted ectoplasm, the parasite SHOULD be weakened enough to the point we can just take it out, simple as that.....in theory.

Jason growled, green coating his vision. Before getting a small electric shock in the neck

Jason: OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!

FB: it appears the parasite reacts to your emotions. If you get angry, it boosts your strength. Although unfortunately it seems to elevate your emotions as well, which seems to only confuse the parasite more till the threat is neutralized or out of sight.

Jason: so, what? It's sentient??

FB: it appears so, however it doesn't look to be very smart. Only reacting to emotions and the stress levels in your system. Kind of like a blob ghost with it's herd now that I think about it.

Jason: .......ARE YOU SAYING I'M BEING POSESSED BY A FUCKING BLOB GHOST?!?!?!

Danny:

Jason:

FB:

FB: well I'm NOT not saying that-

Danny had to drag Jason back home before he injured frostbite.

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk----

-and please bite me like you did before.

p5 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando is so bored at a gala event that he overcomes his grudge and makes a request he never expected to make.

warnings: not for minors, cursing, biting kink, typos!!! not checked yet

It was yet another of the FIA gala events that were not to be missed by the drivers. Not even if they wanted to, which was something that Lando had wanted to opt for. But no, he was told specifically to be there - and he didn't respond well when somebody was ordering him around. Unless it was a girl in his bedsheets, especially one specific girl. 

She was sat quite a few seats away from him, which he found to be a relief. He was still mad at her - either at her being a super calculating bitch or at her not having a grip on her own team. Nevertheless, he was still pissed, not planning on going back to fooling around with her and risking his career. She made him mad. The way she just sat there, laughing, looking all cute and innocent. As if she really was. Only he knew how she liked to dominate him in bed, how wild she was and how far from innocent she could be. 

It made him furious. Why did she had be such a bitch? Also, why were all of of the people he was sat close to someone so annoyingly dull? He considered that to be a crime. The worst thing one could do - be boring. 

It must have been a 50th joke he had to pretend to laugh at. At this point, all he wanted to do was to escape. But he was mad, mad at the fact he had to waste time here, angry that this was one of the things that he had to endure in order to have this job and furious that she was flirting with some random executive from a sponsor. As if that guy was in any way a match to him. He wasn't fit, attractive and from the little of what he heard, he was far from funny. Plus, what had he done for Y/N with regards to her regarding her career? Unlike Lando, this guy had done shit. 

My god, was he bored. He couldn't stand one more remark from the guy sitting opposite to him. He had to get out. Fuck it all, he said internally, not being as sober as one should be at these events. 

"Come and meet me at the bathrooms," he texted to Y/N. He burned her with his look until she read the text. She looked puzzled and he just looked at her with a look that suggested she didn't really have a choice. So she nodded slightly and left few moments after him, not to raise any major attention.

She wasn't sure what this was about. Still had their last argument in fresh memory and was not looking forward to living it all over again. But, she felt obligated to at least go and talk to him. She was taken back a lot, when the mood she was met with once she found him in one of the men's stalls was not a look of anger. 

"I want you to bite me again," he stated simply, as it was the most normal thing in the world. 

"What?" she asked, puzzled. Shock wave ran through her. 

He ached from the inside. Needed a hit of any excitement available - and she was the best one out of all of them. Not that he would ever admit it. 

"I'm bored. I'm so bored I'd rather be burning alive waiting in a never-ending line at the grocery store than get back to that table. I am fed up by mediocre conversation, people saying this and that, same shit all the time and I have to sit and smile at the right people. Bite, please" he said, eyes sending shockwaves towards her. She has seen lots of intense looks on him, but not this. It took her a bit by surprise.

"Don't tell me you're not bored out of your mind too. I see the way you look, so desperate for fun. I can show you fun." Without breaking the eye contact, he walked few steps towards her. "I know what you like," he knew she was super sensitive the first time he would touch her during their nightly sessions. Before she got used to his body temperature, she would always shiver a bit. Not from cold or warmth. But the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. With that thought, he slowly traced the line of her arm with a light touch, moving from elbow, to shoulder, where he did few circles and then as a cheeky fuck boy he was, he went for the top line of her dress, right where is covered her chest. 

"Bite me, come on. I like it," he said, putting his finger over her lips. She licked it slowly. "That's my girl." He was challenging her with his eyes, had the same look as her had right before a race. "Come on."

Something shifted in her, inhibitions gone away before she could say "stop". 

"Take your shirt off," she ordered without missing a beat. Lando bit his lips, smiling and began on working his shirt off. She just watched, not participating, calculating her move. She loved having his full attention. Knowing that he was waiting, even probably begging for her to do stuff to him. Oh, what a joy to have that kind of a power. 

His shirt was off and he was standing there, anticipating. She knew they had very little time before someone would come in and the risk of a scandal was too big. Yet, she wanted her moment. 

"Say it."

"What?"

"Please."

"Please." he whispered with a need that was so honest it made her wet. She closed their distance and kissed him hard. Her tongue danced with his, having a complete upper hand. Then she bit his lip, hard. He reacted immediately with a slight hiss. 

"That's not it, my dear," she said and swiftly bent down and put her mouth on a piece of flesh on the side of his waist. It was hard to avoid biting into a muscle on his body, she felt like this would serve good enough. And my god, did this send him to heavens. Her teeth digging to his skin, pain shooting through his left side and all the good emotions coming with it. He gave her a rather loud sign when the pain was too much and she stopped immediately. That was when the emotions started really running in Lando. The same cocktail as last time, but now he was ready and looked forward to taking it all in. The pain shifting into adrenaline, relief and dopamine hitting the right spots. He didn't even notice the sound he made when she released her grip.

She watched him, like an artist would observe his favorite muse. Obsessed with him. How he reacted. How he took pleasure in. She would fuck him right then and there, but sadly, reason stopped her. Also, she wanted to maintain the cool aura this got her. Just feel a little cooler. So she walked away, leaving him with his newly forming bruise alone. 

He felt her bite all evening, whenever he turned over to discretely glance over to her, he felt a little tingle in his left side, leaving his constantly reminded of the little slut he was for this girl.

part 6

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour

[ninzied]

where ground meets light

alex and henry go on a double date. modern au. based on the prompt: a kiss to distract, for @caressthosecheekbones. ~1.2k.

They’ve only been dating a few weeks when he suggests it.

“Sorry.” Henry has to take this all in for a moment. Surely he must have misheard. “You want to go on a double date? With Alex?”

“Is that weird?” Gregory asks, in the manner of one who’s merely being rhetorical. “He’s your best friend. I want to get to know him better.”

“Well. Sure,” Henry says, because he cannot think of a single reasonable objection that a normal person would make. A normal person who’s not been harboring an ill-advised torch for his best friend for years. “Though,” he hedges, as if the thought’s just occurring to him, “I’m not sure he’s dating anyone at the moment.”

Henry would know if he is. In fact, according to Pez, the whole world would be hard-pressed not to notice because of the moods Henry gets in when it happens.

But it’s been well over a month now since his latest “little London fog,” as Pez calls it, so Henry mentions the idea to Alex as an afterthought, thinking there’s no real danger of him saying yes.

“Great!” says Alex brightly. “I’ll bring Yvette.”

He’ll bring fucking whom?

.

Yvette is a bloody knockout, of course.

Henry expects nothing less. Alex is only the most beautiful man who’s ever walked the planet, so it stands to reason that his date should look as she does.

The more unfortunate thing is that Yvette is also supremely likable. She’s warm, and funny, and seems to share Alex’s knack for livening up the conversation as though they’ve all been friends for years.

By all counts, the date should be a success. Henry laughs more than he thought he would and drinks far less than he thought he would need to. Alex is impressed by the food, which makes Henry feel absurdly pleased to have chosen this particular restaurant.

And, perhaps most importantly: because they’re seated at a round table with Alex angled off to his left, Henry hasn’t caught himself staring at him even once.

Perhaps he’s not so at risk of giving himself away as he’d thought.

.

The trouble, turns out, starts elsewhere.

The trouble is that Henry doesn’t have to be looking at Alex to be attuned to his every feeling and movement.

The way Alex’s knee keeps jittering under the table. The tic in his finger as he taps, then stills. Taps, then stills. The fact that he’s hardly stopped for a breath since they sat down.

He’s antsy, and miserable, but he’s trying so hard and his smile’s so vibrant that not a single person can tell. Not a one but Henry, and he needs to do something, needs Alex to know that he’s seen.

“Darling,” says Henry, without even thinking, and puts his hand on Alex’s wrist. Christ. Fuck. What did he say? What is he doing? But none of that seems to matter right now. “Are you all right?”

He feels Alex relax as though instantly calmed by that one simple touch, and Henry knows that if Alex hadn’t been all right before, he is more so now, somehow.

“Another round of drinks?” Henry asks the table, not even waiting, not even looking, before pulling Alex to his feet. “We’ll be right back.”

.

This is the difference between them. They both have their moods, but Henry wears his on his sleeve and has to shut himself away until it’s passed.

Alex, meanwhile, hides his in plain sight from most people, but Henry likes to think he’s not most people, and as soon as they’re at the bar out of earshot he looks Alex in the eye and says, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Was it that obvious? Fuck.” Alex shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Hen, just—want to make a good first impression, you know?”

Henry’s brow furrows. He tells that jealous little twinge in his chest that now is not the time. “Is this your first date with Yvette or something?” No wonder he’s not heard of her earlier. “Christ, Alex, why didn’t you say so sooner? You didn’t have to come if you didn’t—”

Alex laughs under his breath for some reason. “We’re not dating.”

“You’re—what?”

“She’s a friend,” says Alex. “She’s helping me out. And if the lov—I mean, if my best friend’s boyfriend wants to meet me, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Henry’s chest is positively aching now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says, firmly despite how breathless he feels. “It’s not that dire, trust me. We’ve only been on, like, three dates before this one.”

“Oh.” Alex seems to process this. His expression looks lighter for just a split second before it gets all heavy again. “Well, if you’re wanting there to be a fifth, you should probably talk to him before it’s too late. Looks like he’s about to leave.”

Henry glances over his shoulder, and sighs. “I should probably talk to him, yeah.”

.

Gregory is putting his coat on as Henry walks over. They both muster up a small smile, Henry’s more rueful, Gregory’s resigned.

“I’m really sorry,” Henry says, and means it.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make it into a thing,” Gregory says. “Unless you’re about to tell me to stay. That would be pushing it.”

“I’m not,” Henry admits. “What I did want to say is that—well, I haven’t been entirely honest with myself about what I want. Which means I haven’t been honest with you, and that’s not fair to you at all.”

Gregory nods. “I do like you, Henry. You deserve to be happy. And I deserve to not be the guy that you use as an excuse to keep standing in your own way.” He glances at Alex back at the bar. Yvette is there now too, flirting up a storm with the bartender.

“I wanted to get to know your best friend,” Gregory continues. “And now that I have, I can say that he’s a really lucky guy.” He gives Henry a meaningful look. “Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

.

Alex straightens as Henry approaches the bar, an untouched whiskey in one hand. “What are you doing? I thought you were going to go talk to him.”

“I did.” Henry shrugs, and helps himself to Alex’s drink.

Alex is looking as though he’ll never again know happiness in this world. “I fucked things up for you, didn’t I. Fuck.”

“What? No,” says Henry, but Alex doesn’t seem to be listening. “Alex. Alex.”

“Do you want me to go talk to him? I can explain.” Alex runs a hand through his hair, sending his curls all breathtakingly askew.

He doesn’t even know, Henry marvels. He doesn’t even know.

“I mean, it’s not your fault that I—” Alex breaks off with a frustrated sigh before starting back up again. “I’ll tell him that you don’t feel the same way, and that I’m really fucking sorry I ruined your night with my—you know—feelings, and—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Henry says.

Then he leans in and kisses him, because Alex is an unstoppable force, and this is the one place where Henry has not been brave enough to meet him, until now.

Alex goes quiet at last, save for the sigh he lets out as their lips part and his hands find Henry’s waist and pull in.

“Whoa,” he breathes after a moment. “Yeah, we gotta do that again.”

“Shh,” Henry murmurs, “we were doing so well.” He puts his hand on Alex’s nape, drawing him back in.

Alex kisses him back like it’s the only thing that centers him, the only thing that keeps him grounded, and Henry—well.

Henry can’t help but think that it feels a bit like flying, too.

[bowsellie]

we have chemistry

warnings: college!ellie x college!reader, stoner!ellie, chronically ill reader (not specific, just mentions of fatigue and a medical accommodation for a single room for plot reasons lol), weed usage (Ellie and reader), mild language, briefly proofread, no use of y/n minors dni! smut in 3rd section! top!ellie, some degradation, praise (reader called a good girl, pretty girl, etc., ellie told she's doing a good job), SO MUCH CONSENT WE <3 CONSENT, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), aftercare.

💗💗💗

You didn't want to be taking organic chemistry. Nobody in that class did--not even the chemistry majors. But as finals season rolled around, you found yourself spending extra time to make sure that it would at least be worth your while. Needless to say, not everybody shared the same drive.

As the clock hit 8:49am on the last class before the exam, everybody started shoving their laptops away despite the professor's continuing drone. To your right there was an extra loud snap! as the student beside you--an auburn-haired girl you'd never seen before--shut the screen with finality. You shot her a glare, gently closing your notebook as people began to trickle out.

"You're smart, right?"

You angled your face towards the sound, assuming somebody was having a side conversation close by. Instead, you found yourself face to face with striking green eyes leaning to reach your line of sight.

"Hi. Yeah, you. You're using an actual notebook and have all the fancy pens and shit, so...are you smart?"

Your eyebrows drew together slightly as you shrugged with one shoulder. "I try, I guess. Um...why?"

One corner of the girl's mouth picked up. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've literally never been to this class before. My grade sucks. But I really don't want to retake this shit. Do you think you could help me?"

You stared at her incredulously, mentally calculating the equation of audacity and arrogance it must take to expect a complete stranger to help despite a clear lack of effort.

You opened your mouth slightly to say some variation of hell fucking no, who do you think you are anyways?, maybe you should have considered that before skipping literally every other class meeting when she stuck out her hand. "I'm Ellie, by the way. I'll pay you for helping me." When you hesitated to shake it, she added a "please".

You rolled your eyes, shaking the girl--Ellie's--hand with slightly too much force. "Fine. Whatever. Give me your number." You slid your phone across the table, already open to the contacts app, and watched as she typed.

"You're a lifesaver! Thank you..." she asked, pausing for your name. You gave it. "Thank you."

💗💗💗

Getting back to your dorm and settling into bed for a nap, you briefly texted the number now in your phone as "Ellie" with the last name "Wehavechemistry".

hey

Almost immediately, three dots popped up.

hey there. do you like my contact? lmao

i mean, we do have chemistry together. so like...sure?

no no no. i meant like...we have chemistry. wink wink nudge nudge. and my last name starts with a w so it's funny. do you get it?

...

it's funny.

yeah yeah sure. very funny. hahaha. anyways.

when did you want to come over? i'm free all weekend, and the final's monday. sooooo

oh shit

didn't realize the final was monday

ummmmmmmm how does tomorrow at 8pm work? do you have a roommate or something we need to accommodate for?

no, no roommate. tomorrow at 8pm works fine for me. see you then, ellie.

:)

Turns out, texting with Ellie wasn't all that insufferable. She was friendlier than you expected, and every time you put your phone down to try and fall asleep you found your heart beating too fast at every notification to actually put it down.

Instead, you kept the conversation going until 8pm the next day rolled around, when instead of a text you got three loud raps at the door.

Opening it up, you saw Ellie in the same hoodie as yesterday. This time, her hair was slightly damp and she smelled like...old spice and something pungent and earthy. Did she shower already?

"Hey," you said, suddenly feeling awkward and over dressed in your jean shorts and crop top, hair still done from that afternoon. "You can come in."

Ellie grinned at you as she slid in the door. "We have a semester of schoolwork to cover. Hope you're prepared for a long night," she said.

"Trust me, I am. Did you bring anything?" You asked, looking for a bag as she climbed on to your bed.

"Nope. Not school stuff, anyways." Curious, you tossed your notebook towards her and watched as she pulled a pre-rolled joint and lighter from her hoodie pocket. "I'm assuming you don't smoke since you're like, a nerd, but do you mind if I do?"

You shook your head, dropping your jaw in false offense. "How lame do you think I am? Just because I actually go to class doesn't mean I'm a nerd."

Ellie shot you a disbelieving look, but handed you the joint anyways as you joined her on the bed. "Here, have the first hit. As a thank you for helping me out."

She lit it for you as you inhaled, passing her the weed and opening your notebook. "If this keeps you from retaining information that's not my fault. Just saying."

"Trust me, I'm so alert right now it's crazy. All of tonight is gonna be stuck in my memory for a while."

💗💗💗

The room gradually grew darker, lit only by your adjusting lamp and the last smoldering ashes of the joint as you reached halfway through the notebook.

You breathed heavily through your nose, looking at Ellie seriously. "It's so late. We're not going to finish this tonight."

As she looked up at you, you suddenly noticed how much closer you two had moved over the course of the night. Had your thighs been touching the whole time? Has her breath always been so close it's hitting your cheek? Why did she have to smell so good?

Your own breath caught in your throat as she leaned even closer to you, placing a hand so close to your leg you could feel the fabric of her sweatshirt against her bare thigh. Almost imperceptibly, her gaze flickered down to your chest, now rapidly rising and falling.

"How set do you think I am for this stupid final?" Ellie asked seriously, a rasp in her voice either from smoke or the lowered pitch.

"You picked up on everything really well, so at least the first half I think you'll do fine."

She grabbed your left hand in both of hers, causing your breath to catch again. Her eyes flickered down again, this time lingering longer. Following her gaze, you noticed the top of your bra peeking out.

"Sorry," you said, quickly adjusting your shirt to cover it as heat spread through your body.

"No, no, you're fine. Sorry for looking," she said. You looked at her face, watching as her eyes seemed to trace the shape of your shoulders and the line of your throat.

The air thickened with tension, but you found yourself not wanting Ellie to leave yet. "So, why did you take this class anyways? If you didn't want to go?"

Finally, she met your eyes. "I need a chemistry for my major. Astronomy. I thought I would like this one, but didn't realize it was a fucking 8am when I signed up. By the time I realized I wasn't going to make it up that early it was too late to drop." She shrugged. "What about you? Big chemistry fan?"

You snorted. "Not really, but I also needed a chemistry for my major. I like the 8ams, it lets me have afternoons free to sleep. That's why I don't have a roommate--medical accommodations for fatigue or whatever." She nodded along, genuinely listening.

"Well, hopefully I don't have to retake this class. Next time there probably won't be a pretty girl willing to help me out."

You smiled at her, breathing sharply out of your nose in a laugh. "We'll see what we can do."

A beat of silence washed over you before Ellie pointed towards the pride flag on your wall with her chin. "So...are you..." She began, causing you to laugh full out this time.

"Yeah. Obviously, I'd hope, but if you're feminine people tend to assume otherwise I guess." You smiled and looked at her. "Are you?"

Ellie placed a hand on her chest. "I'm hurt you had to ask. I've been trying to flirt with you since I got your number, babe."

Oh.

"Oh."

She leaned back a little. "I can cut it out, if you want. I couldn't tell if you were into it or not."

Without giving her time to continue doubting, you sprung forward and attached your lips to hers. Threading your fingers in her hair and breathing in as you pulled back.

"So...you are into it?"

"I'm a little dense, Ellie. Don't let the color-coded notes fool you. But yes. Now that I know...I'm into it."

She smiled at you with one side of her mouth again, this time leaning forward to kiss you first. Lips opening slightly, you felt her body around yours as her hands found the bed and pushed you on to your back.

Ellie pushed her tongue gently into your mouth, settling between your legs as they fell open. As you felt her weight between your hips, you groaned a little.

Whining a little as she pulled away, your eyes fluttered shut as Ellie threaded her fingers through the hair by your ear. "Is this supposed to be my payment?" you asked, leaning into her touch.

"Shut up," she said playfully, leaning in to kiss you again. This time it was more forceful, teeth bumping against teeth as your tongues chased each other. Too focused on the overwhelming sensation of Ellie's mouth on your own, you broke the kiss to moan in surprise when you felt her knee push against your core.

Using the opportunity to trail her mouth down your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck, Ellie asked "is this okay, baby?" between kisses. You nodded before remembering she couldn't see you, instead responding with a slightly choked "yes."

In response, her lips attached right behind your ear as her teeth sunk into you and she began to suck. You groaned, bucking your hips against her knee. Kindly, she began to push it back into you, laughing into your neck as you continued whimpering.

"What?" you asked. "Why are you laughing?"

Ellie pulled away from the spot she had been working into your collarbone, meeting your eyes. "You're just so pretty. Can't believe I have you falling apart for me and I've barely touched you."

Your mouth fell open at her words, groaning. Ellie's mouth found yours again, her hands reaching for your tits over your shirt. "Can't blame me for looking at these," she said between kisses, "You look so good in this shirt."

"Take it off, then," you said. You sounded braver than you felt, your stomach doing absolute flips as the girl over you quickly complied to reveal your lacy nude bra.

"I like this," she said softly. "I want it off, though. Is that okay, pretty?" You nodded. The bra was nothing special--just comfy and the right color. If Ellie liked it, though, it was now one of your favorites.

Her mouth moved down your chin and neck to attach to your left nipple, bringing a hand to your opposite hip as she sucked and licked lightly. Your hips continued to buck against her knee, which was now stationary as you essentially rode her thigh.

Chuckling a little, Ellie looked up at you and began unbuttoning your shorts. "Knew you'd be needy. What kind of thoughts are you hiding from me?" she asked, pulling off your bottoms and panties in one go when you lifted your hips to help.

You smiled a little watching her eyes attach themselves to the spot between your legs. "What can I say?" you said. "Maybe I'm a little slutty if the right girl has me under her."

This seemed to light something in Ellie, who watched your face as she brought your face down to your pussy. Close enough to feel her breath, her eyes gleamed as she moved away from your hips chasing her.

"Please," you asked, voice breaking. "Please, Ellie."

"Guess you are a slut, huh? Begging for me already." Whatever response you had was cut off by a screaming moan as her mouth attached itself to you, immediately lapping at your clit before interspersing it with longer licks. Your legs shut around her face as your hands grabbed into her hair, pulling a little as you noticed the groan she made at the pressure.

"That feels so good, Ellie." Her motions sped up at this, and you hurriedly repeated the phrase as she focused more attention on your clit. Feeling everything tighten, you wrapped your ankles around her back as your hips lifted almost completely off the bed. Still attached to you, Ellie fully moaned as you pulled her hair and came over her face.

Whimpering softly as she pulled away, you audibly groaned when she looked up at you and wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "You did so good, baby. Do you have another one in you?"

You quickly nodded, feeling words escape you. All you wanted was for her to say you did good again.

Ellie leaned into you, placing her head into the crook of your neck as her fingers ghosted lightly over your hips, stomach, and thighs. Finally, you felt them dip into the pool of wet that had collected in your cunt. Spreading the mix of saliva, cum, and arousal up to your clit and around your hole, she slowly pushed a slender finger into you. Your back arched off the bed when she began pumping it in and out, chuckling against your neck.

"Such a pretty girl. You're doing so good," she whispered. Your moans grew louder at her words and she pushed another finger in. "Good girl," she breathed, kissing your neck and jaw as she worked into you.

"Ellie," you gasped. "Ellie, please."

"What, baby?"

"Please, Ellie, please. Wanna cum."

You felt her lips quirk up against your collarbone as she added a thumb to your clit and a curl to her fingers. Quicker than you'd ever been able to get there yourself, you felt the tightening of your gut. She swallowed your moans with a sloppy kiss, gently catching your bottom lip between her teeth before soothing it with her tongue. She used her other hand to hold on to your hair at the scalp as you writhed, second orgasm shuddering through your body.

"Good girl," she said as she worked you through it. Sitting up, she wiped her fingers on your thighs before moving up up to let you rest your head on her chest. "You did so good, baby. My smart, pretty, good girl."

You whimpered a little, not prepared to speak just yet. Ellie seemed to understand and didn't push you, holding you and playing with your hair until you leaned back to smile at her.

"That was good. Thank you," you told her, leaning in for a kiss that tasted of your sweat and pussy.

Ellie broke away, moving the hand wrapped around your waist to grab something out of your back pocket. She placed it on your bare chest, tucking it between your tits.

"What do I look like, a prostitute?" you asked. "Much love to them, but..."

Ellie raised her eyebrows. "I mean, you fuck like a professional, but this is for helping me study."

You grabbed the bill and pushed it back into her pocket. "Save it for next time. We need to finish that notebook if you want to actually pass this class."

Ellie kissed the top of your head. "How does tomorrow work?"

A/N this is basically a self insert...my bad. tried to make it as inclusive to different readers as possible. let me know if there's anything I can improve on!! <3

[clockwayswrites]

Not Exactly Cinderella Part 2

Part 1

WC: 818

“You have a thing for black hair and blue eyes, huh?” Dick teased, looking at the guy that Wally had pointed out. He laughed as Wally slapped his shoulder for the comment. “What? I’m not complaining. And you’re right, he does have a cute smile.”

Wally just blushed again.

“Well, come on, I think that most of my official duties are done. Let’s go see what he’s like,” Dick said, heading back towards the stairs.

“What if he’s a jerk?” Wally asked.

“Then we just move on and go find someone else to talk to,” Dick answered easily. “This isn’t a mission or anything, Walls, if you don’t click you don’t click. You can think his smile is cute and not want to do anything with him.”

Wally sighed, though, rather than being comforted by that.“You keep talking like he’ll want to do something with me.”

Dick stopped them at the bottom of the stairs, tugging them to the side. He knew he probably looked a little worried, but he couldn’t help it. No, of course he could fake it, he was a damn Bat, but he didn’t want to. Wally deserved to know that he was bothered by this. If Dick had known that Wally was having these self esteem issues, he would have done something earlier.

Wally deserved to know how amazing he was.

“If he doesn’t want you, it will because he’s straight or not into quick romance or doing something physical,” Dick said. “Or because he’s insane and doesn’t like red heads. Never trust someone who doesn’t like red heads.”

Wally rolled his eyes but he looked more relaxed. “Just because you have a thing for red heads…”

“Walls, sweetheart, you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and fun. And you’re pretty damn hot too between the red hair and adorable freckles and your runner’s body. If he’s not into you there could be reasons for it, but it’s not because you aren’t an amazing catch.”

Wally let out a breath of air and nodded. “Okay. Sure. I mean, I don’t agree but sure. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Great!” Dick said with a grin. He took Wally’s hand but dropped it as they got closer to their target. The guy must have taken a break from his last discussion and was over to the side with a fresh drink in hand. Dick detoured them briefly to get drinks also; it was important for everyone to feel like they were on the same social page. They settled near the other as if taking a break from the crowd themselves.

“Enjoying the evening?” Dick asked, drawing the strangers blue eyes to them.

Oh, fuck, more adorable freckles.

“You know, I actually am,” he said, seeming surprised by that. As an after thought he held out his hand. “Oh, sorry, I’m Danny.”

Not a socialite if he was leaving off the last name. That was a positive.

“Dick,” he said, shaking the offered hand before backing off. “And this is Wally.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny said, as he shook Wally’s hand. “You two having a good night?”

“Mostly. We’re finally where we can relax and talk to who we want to, which is nice. Wally here always has to track down the other scientists at these things,” Dick answered for them, pleased when Danny perked up at that.

“Are you scientist?” Danny asked

“Chemist, mostly material sciences but some organic too,” Wally said with a slightly bashful little smile. “You?”

“Bimolecular and biomedical engineering,” Danny said.

At least Dick would have an easy excuse to duck out when the conversation got too technical for him.

“Did they do the same thing with you and keep trying to make you pick one?”

Danny laughed and gave a little shrug. Dick could tell Wally almost swooned at the sound— not that Dick could blame Wally, Danny had a really nice laugh and the crooked smile was downright precious.

“Totally. I though that two of them were going to get in a fist fight over me at one point! Which I suppose at least would have been hilarious. I’ve won so far, but it’s going to be hard to pick a doctorate when I get there.”

“Oh man, good luck. I got my masters last year and stopped for now. Want to get some work experience, you know?” Wally asked. “But it sounds like you’ll kick ass whatever you choose. Where are you going to school right now? Gotham doesn’t really do much of that, right?”

“U Penn,” Danny said. “I’m close enough location wise that my godfather called in a favor for me to be his plus one for this event, but it really hasn’t been that bad so far.

“Who’s your godfather?” Dick asked curiously.

Danny smiled that crooked smile again. “Vlad Masters.”

Dick couldn’t help the way his nose wrinkled at that.

Danny just laughed.

--

AN: Just a little bit of Dick's POV! And oh no, Dick thinks Danny is cute too! Whatever will we do...

Wanted to write more of this, but *waves hand at everything*. But this brings us to the end of the 'new schedule'! It was fun to do but I certainly won't be doing it every week. It's back to just trauma Tuesday for now! Stay delightful, darlings.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping. 

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle. 

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning. 

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list. 

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together. 

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?” 

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears. 

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more. 

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.” 

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.” 

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?” 

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him. 

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet. 

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh. 

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

[damianbugs]

in remembrance of that anon that i tragically lost, here are some recs for THE most underutilised duo in the batfam. i could write ridiculously long essays about the tragedy of these two characters, and how they could become something great, if dc would get a grip a let tim grow up, preferably in the next decade. no complaints about damian. he is perfect.

this is also a cry for HELP. PLEASE write more big brother tim fics i am literally on the verge of collapsing as i ask. he is so unprepared but well meaning big brother so let him carry out his duty towards damian and duke PLEASE.

right then, anyways:

TIM AND DAMIAN FIC RECS ON AO3

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

MY NOTES: i know body swap aus can be a little worrying, but this is a phenomenal fic on not just the complicated relationship between tim and damian, but also their own individual struggles and how that brings them closer together in an unspoken yet profound way. a must read if you appreciate the characters in their entirety.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

MY NOTES: secretly protective big brother tim u mean the world to me. they are so fun in this, even with the medical emergency occurring alongside the sillies.

i only sink deeper (the deeper i think) by call_me_steve

Drake clicks his tongue and tilts his head off to the side. “This really isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

Oh, really? Damian starts furiously finger spelling, just to be annoying. You know, I thought the floating platforms would be of the utmost excitement.

“I caught a solid half of that and I think you’re making fun of me.” Drake goes to shift before remembering that he can’t - his face beneath his domino contorts into something unpleasant. “My legs are falling asleep, dude.”

You move, signs Damian, for real this time, and I go under.

“You talk,” Drake shoots back. “And I go under."

MY NOTES: it wouldn't be a real saki fic rec post without at least one kidnapped and almost dying in order to escape fic. i think about the conversation about love and danger at least once a week at random intervals and do not know how to be normal about it. at all.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by audreycritter

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around.

Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

MY NOTES: okay so maybe i've read this a billion times and maybe it's my favourite tim and damian fic ever to exist but isn't that just proof you need to read it too? such a real fic. so personal. can't think of anything else but u must read it

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

MY NOTES: oh... oh. Oh i am on the ground dead forever. damian and tim bonding over the shared fact that they got a version of bruce they'll never, ever meet. finding a common ground in grieving something they never had. oh.... how marvelous.

The Study of Birds by MaskoftheRay

Tim and Damian have hated one another since the day that the youngest Wayne arrived in Gotham City. A few years later, that hatred has cooled into a mutual disdain and somewhat-wary tolerance. If necessary, they can even work together— though neither likes to. Then Tim discovers that Damian enjoys bird-watching too.

Or: sometimes the difficult things are the most rewarding.

MY NOTES: truly something so special about stories where tim and damian find comfort and something to cherish in animals. a middle ground born from compassion and empathy perhaps. so sweet.

[onesidedradiostatic]

As an aro, I keep thinking “cmon, asexuality is not that hard to figure out, I understood it before I realized I was aro,” but then I remembered that one time in high school when I was taking a psych class and our teacher showed us a video on asexuality that included both aroaces and alloro aces talking about their experiences (unfortunately no aro allos otherwise I would’ve figured myself out way faster lmao) and the entire rest of the class would legit start screaming like what they heard was too unhinged to comprehend every time someone said something as simple as “yeah we’re dating but we don’t have sex cause we don’t feel that way about each other” (something I too didn’t get cause (pre-realization aroallo voice) isn’t the point of dating so that it’s socially acceptable to have sex, but even then this is an overreaction). I felt awful for the ace person in the class, like. I’m so sorry they had to be surrounded by that. And this took place in the early 2010s.

Uhhh to swing the mood back a bit, since Alastor is also old and doesn’t know what asexuality is, the idea of Vox just wanting to know what his preferences are even because what does anyone else have that he doesn’t, and all Alastor can think is “hey actually good question, what do I like in a woman” and only being able to think of traits he likes in friends. Even better if he realizes what he’s done and he’s like “there must be something I haven’t seen in anyone, or I would be having amorous feelings for Rosie and I know my feelings for her are platonic!” You can almost see the question marks surrounding both their heads. Rosie and Velvette seeing this and they’re both internally just like “please figure it out already”

they are both old men they both don't know what asexuality or aromanticism is and it is horrible. but I cannot imagine them having a conversation like this at the current point they're at. FUCK IT let me one-sided radiostatic this shit. it would be funny I think if back in the pre-rejection days vox tried to ask alastor for his type in subtle ways of trying to make a move. alastor struggles to come up with anything. maybe answers something super generic (me projecting from when I've been asked my type in the past). vox getting excited because the generic ass answer could fit him (it could fit literally anyone). neither of them think anything of alastor struggling to answer. it's terrible.

[devildomwriter]

OMSWD ep.1: Vore?

You’re all watching a movie when someone gets eaten by a giant beast and that changes things.

Asmodeus and Mammon: *shrieking*

MC: “That’s hot.”

Satan: “Excuse me?”

Everyone is suddenly staring at you, very quietly as if they aren’t sure they heard you correctly.

MC: “What? Beel, you agree with me right?”

Beelzebub: *eating popcorn*

Beelzebub: Hm?

MC: “Joel got eaten.”

Beelzebub: “Oh…yeah…”

Belphegor: “MC thinks it’s hot.”

Beelzebub: “…”

Beelzebub: “…”

Beelzebub: “…I don’t know what to do with that information….”

Mammon: “Yeah, neither do we. The fuck ya mean it’s hot?”

Asmodeus: “Yeah, MC, cause I’m into a lot of stuff and I’m not really sure that scene got me going?”

Raphael: “May I add, I’m mildly concerned?”

Mammon: “Ah shit, I forgot the angels were still here.”

Simeon: “Not Luke thankfully…”

Mephistopheles: “Never expected MC to be the one to bring up such topics.”

Diavolo: “Hahahaha, MC you say the wildest things sometimes. Hahaha.”

Satan: “It might not be wild, we don’t even know what they mean.”

MC: “I mean my loins get hot when I see someone get eaten alive.”

Belphegor: “Oh, it really was that simple.”

Beelzebub: *starts sweating*

Beelzebub: “Is…that not the normal feeling?”

Belphegor: “No, Beel…”

Raphael: *sigh*

Barbatos: *chuckling*

Mammon: “Um? No! It’s not normal what do you mean?!”

Lucifer: “Calm down Mammon, MC is just joking…I think.”

MC: “No, not at all. Like when I was little I always got this funny feeling when it was implied the villain ate someone, like I thought it was cool. Now I realize it’s been an issue since childhood.”

Raphael: “Yes, I think ‘issue’ is the right word.”

Asmodeus: “Okay…maybe I get it? Is it like a power thing? Like you’re turned on they could eat you….or something?”

MC: “No. I like seeing them eaten…alive…remember that one scene in the movie NOPE?”

Asmodeus: “Eek! Ew, no don’t even remind me of it!”

Mammon: “Still get chills thinking about that scene…wasn’t it enough that we heard everyone screamin’?”

MC: “Or that one scene from The Final Prayer—“

Simeon: “Don’t remind me.”

Diavolo: *looking pale* “Is this…your method of choosing what horror movie we watch….by chance?”

Mephistopheles: “Dear Diavolo, that’s why I’ve had to watch so many people get eaten in horror movies? That’s how you find them?”

Thirteen: “Hahaha! MC you’re hilarious.”

Barbatos: “Solomon do you have nothing to say about your own apprentice?”

Solomon: “Well, I was trying to watch the movie but I suppose I’ll join in the conversation.”

Satan: “Solomon, that’s not a normal human thing right?”

Solomon: “Ah…well, I can’t say I run into it often…not unless you include cannibals but it’s been a while since I’ve been held hostage by any of them.”

Mammon: “Excuse me?”

MC: “I’m not a cannibal, just clarifying.”

Beelzebub: *looks like a lost puppy*

Beelzebub: “Is it not normal….”

Belphegor: “No, Beel…”

Lucifer: *deep sigh*

Mephistopheles: “Levi, is this one of your weird anime things? What did you expose MC to?”

Leviathan: “Please just leave me out of this.”

Satan: “No, it’s your fault!”

Leviathan: “It’s not my fault!”

Solomon: “The only anime I can think of is maybe Attack on Titan…or Tokyo Ghoul…there was that one eccentric character who liked to eat people—“

MC: “That arena scene was the best wasn’t it?”

Solomon: *sigh*

Lucifer: “So it is your fault.”

Leviathan: “They’d already seen the shows?! That’s one of the ways we bonded! Not my fault!”

MC: “You did tell me about—“

Leviathan: “Shh—shut up! Don’t blame me for your deep-rooted issues!?”

Simeon: “Levi may be right. This must be something psychological—“

MC: “I think Asmo fantasizing about his brothers should be discussed well before my Vore preference.”

Beelzebub: “…Vore.”

Belphegor: “Yes, Beel…”

Raphael: “Asmodeus do you really still fetishize your brothers?”

Asmodeus: “Ooooh, um…maybe? Hehe.”

Mammon: “Don’t ‘hehe’ me, ya nasty little freak!”

Asmodeus: “You’re just jealous!”

Mammon: “Of fuckin’ what?”

Solomon: “I just wanted to watch the movie…”

Thirteen: “Things are just getting good though, shut up!”

Diavolo: “Ahahahahaha!”

Barbatos: *sigh*

MC: “Why are you all so surprised? It’s normal!”

Satan: “It’s definitely not.”

Beelzebub: “…it’s not…really…?”

Belphegor: “No, Beel…”

Mammon: “Dammit MC, your explanation is crap! And did ya really say loins? Are ya an old man?”

Thirteen: “No, but Solomon is, and even he doesn’t say that.”

Solomon: “Now hang on a sec—“

Mephistopheles: “Oh look the credits are playing….”

Diavolo: “Ahahahaha.”

Asmodeus: “Okay, the movie is done distracting us! MC, spill! Where’d your weird fetish come from!?”

MC: “It’s not a fetish!”

Asmodeus: “Oh yes it—“

Mammon: “Raphael, not the spear!”

Belphegor: “Asmo watch out—“

Lucifer: “No you don’t!”

Raphael: “Guh!”

Mammon: “Oh! Nice one!”

Asmodeus and Thirteen: “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Barbatos: “All right, settle down now.”

Simeon: “Yes, that’s quite enough everyone.”

Asmodeus: *sobbing* “I just wanna hear a fetish origin story…”

Mammon: “I just wanna know what the fuck Vore means!”

Beelzebub: “I don’t get it…”

Belphegor: “We know Beel.”

Mephistopheles: “Well, I should probably go…I suppose I can look forward to another fetish-themed movie next time too?”

MC: “It’s not a fetish? What’s a person gotta do to theoretically enjoy a fellow human being eaten alive and/or whole for their own satisfaction and have no one judge them?”

Mephistopheles: “I don’t think any deal you make with me could be strong enough to reverse a psychological normality.”

MC: “…aww…”

MC: “I didn’t ask any of you anyway, I asked Beel! Beel you understand me right?”

Beelzebub: *nods vigorously*

Solomon: “Oh dear.”

Lucifer: “I’m not sure that’s a good combination…”

Diavolo: “Ahahaha!”

Belphegor: “Of all the things to have in common….”

Thirteen: “Oh I get it! That’s perfect! If someone tries to kill you, you sic Beel on them and get a free show, right?”

You and Beel lock eyes and the room is silent

Barbatos: “…I believe they’ve reached an arrangement.”

MC: “Not if they’re alive though…”

Beelzebub: “Mhmm.”

Raphael: “What am I witnessing?”

Simeon: “It’s best not to question it.”

MC: “Do you grow in size? Like can you swallow someone whole…”

Beelzebub: “I’ve never tried…”

Belphegor: “He can unhinge his jaw like a snake.”

Asmodeus: “No don’t remind me!”

Mammon: “I mean…he has eaten demons before. Does it need to be a human or?”

Lucifer: “Mammon, don’t join in on this!”

Everyone watches for a few minutes as you and Beelzebub get into more specific details of a theoretical situation until it becomes awkward standing there.

Solomon: “So…same time next week?”

Barbatos: “Yes, I’ll prepare the snacks next time.”

Diavolo: “We can watch the next movie at my place.”

Thirteen: “Neat! I’m going home now, those monsters inspired a cool trap idea!”

Raphael: “We should do something about them shouldn’t we…”

Simeon: “Just leave them to their fantasies, MC won’t really hurt anyone and neither will Beel. Isn’t that right Lucifer?”

Lucifer: “Why do I have to deal with this?”

Simeon: “You chose your brothers, and MC, this is entirely on you.”

Lucifer: “Dammit.”

[dreamauri]

┇𝗪𝗘'𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡 - part three ┇୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ┇when the love of your life gets hurt and he for ┇some reason still wont leave you, even in death. ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  fem! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( 1, 052 ) ╰  🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

Max stood behind you as you worked, cutting a threading fabric. He never knew you actually pursued your dream as a designer. He sat on a stool, admiring you as you did your passion around your station.  He couldn’t have a conversation with you in public but when no one was looking he’d whisper a compliment or remind you to drink.

You stopped yourself from looking at him, an involuntary smile curling on your lips. Things were much better. Sure you were a “lonely crazy cat lady” in love with your half dead partner's ghost, but this was better than being alone and stuck in your bed stuffing fries in your mouth.

“Knock knock.” You and Max turned to see one of your co-workers enter your space. She pulled the stool Max had been sitting on and settled beside you. “I thought Karla gave you a longer break?” Karla, your manager,  had given you a whole month off so you could process everything. But since you were feeling better, you cut your break short. 

“She did. But I feel better here.” Your voice was muffled from the pins you held in your mouth. “It’s better to not isolate myself.” Max, who had fallen on his ass once his seat was stolen, glared at the woman. Putting his hands on his hips, he bore holes in her head. You held back a smile, thinking max looked ridiculous. 

“What’s so funny-- What’s this?” She held up your left wrist, looking at the diamond on your with a deep glare. “Where did you get this?”You pulled your hand from her immediately, holding it to your chest protectively. “It’s mine.” You brushed her off, trying to get back to work.

“It most certainly does not.” She stood up looking at you concerned. “Y/N, you're going crazy-” You glared at her, shutting her up instantly. “I’m fine. Nothing is wrong with me. And Max gave me the ring. So leave me alone.” “Sweet heart,” Her eyes filled with empathy and pity. You hated that. “Max is gone. He-” “No.” You looked away from her, not wanting to listen.

“You came to me, remember? That night.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “When-” “No no. Please.” You turned shushing her. “Okay, Okay.” You took the ring off, putting it on your table. Max gulped at the sight of the ring being off your finger. He kept staring between you and the diamond. “Y/N, please put it back on.” He tried to tell you but you ignored him.

“Y/N.” He tried to tell you again. “You should have stayed home.” She pulled you in a hug, and you’d accepted it immediately. “Come stay with me for a few days.��� the woman told you, patting your back gently. You flinched hearing Max shout your name. “Put the goddamn fucking ring on.” So that must be what’s keeping him here, what’s gotten him so worked up.

“You need to let go. I know it’s hard. The bre--” “Shut up.” you cut her off, taking a step back. “Y/N it’s not healthy. It wasn’t your fault. I understand why you bro--” “No!” You cut her off shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear any more of it. I already have to live with it as is.” She sighed, slumping her shoulders. She watched as you walked around your little nice station, stuffing your belongings in your purse. “And yes, it was my fault.”

Your co-worker didn’t have time to argue because you were already out the door to the studio. Max ran to follow you but he found his feet glued to the ground, not letting him get more that five steps far. 

He felt his eyes tear up. What was going on? He looked back at the right, watching your friend put it in your drawer so it doesn’t get lost.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was too quiet now. You found yourself sat in a random cafe, head resting on your folded arms. Your finger was bare and your ears were empty from Max’s constant talking. This gave you a lot of time to think. Even if you didn’t want to.

If you never had that talk with your co-worker would you have lived the rest of your life like that? You loved max, but guilt swirled in your stomach. It drove you sick, knowing you could’ve helped him cross over, but instead you were going to be selfish and keep him from himself. 

You haven’t even told him the truth. You’d changed up the telling of recent events to hide it from him. You lied to him. You didn’t deserve his trust. You didn’t deserve him at all. He was sitting back in that building all alone right now and it was way past closing. The sun was dark, and probably so was the room. You shouldn’t have left him there.

The walk back was quick and quiet. You used your spare key to enter the studio and immediately heard sobs. Flicking the lights on, you went to your space seeing Max sitting under the table, looking at your drawers. The ring wasn’t where you left it, someone must’ve put it away so it doesn't get lost.

“You left me.” You paused, the drawer half way open. You could see the diamond with the golden band looking back at you with anger. “You fucking left me, Y/N.” You gulped down, looking at the teen who held so much anger in his expression. 

“I’ve been waiting here all day. For you.” You looked down in shame. There was no excuse for that. Taking the ring, you sat beside him holding the ring between your fingers, you looked between him and the band. “I’m sorry, Max. I needed to think.” “Without me?!” He was growing attached and obsessive. “Put the fucking ring on.” He told you again. “I-- I can't.” You shook your head.

“Y/N my existence in this world fucking relies on you wearing that ring. I need you to put it on.” You stayed quiet, not bearing to look at him. The quiet from earlier helped you think. You should probably do the right thing. “I want to show you something.” You got up and Max had no other choice but to follow you.

[goobtopia]

could u do the couch scene with oliver and farleigh except its reader and farleigh? and just kind of expand on that scene please🤭

(i wanted to be oliver SO bad in that scene it’s not even funny)

fuck, chuck, or marry — part one

part two.

i trieeed not making it exactly like the movie i hope u like it :)

!! 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

saltburn!au: reader has taken oliver quick's place, infiltrating the catton family, but they're much better at blending in. farleigh, being the smartest one of them all remains unconvinced.

warnings: swearing, sexual dialogue, allusions to sex, mentions of sex, no actual smut, reader is just as crazy as ollie don’t get it twisted

[requests are open]

☆ masterlist ☆

-

You're leaning against Felix's shoulder, both legs thrown over one of Farleigh's who was spreading his own. You watched the odd woman from earlier's train wreck of a husband perform Apple Bottom Jeans with increasingly less enthusiasm as he seems to gain it, whipping his coat and throwing it haphazardly in the room.

"Alright fuck this I'm gonna go get a drink.” Felix proclaims tapping Venetia on her arm, willing her to join him over at the bar cart leaving you and Farleigh alone.

He leans over to you, pressing his arm against yours letting you feel the roughness of his freshly pressed dress shirt against you. "Fuck, chuck, or marry?" He starts in that unassuming tone, you don't look at him just yet. "Richard the III, Henry the VIl, or Henry the VIII?" His eyes bore holes into the side of your face, "You know I think I'd fuck Richard the IlI." He expressed to which you hummed, as if this was the most engaging conversation of the night.

"He's so insecure, so, you know he'd put in the work, right?" You turned to him, doe eyed as he giggles to himself. "You could just fuck me." He's not laughing anymore, but there's a wicked grin etched across your face. "But you've been a tattle tale, telling Felix about me and Venetia." You accused, looking over your nose at him. You'd been more than enemies and less than friends upon your introduction, you might ve even given Farleigh that show underneath his window on purpose.

"It's not like I knew he'd be mad." He whispered, a faint smile coming back onto his face. You draped an elbow across the couch to rest your head on, letting the other roam above Farleigh's knee. "You knew." You opposed him, giving him a slight squeeze so he answered immediately "Yeah, I knew." He admitted, his face evidently eager so you removed your hand from his slacks and laid it on his chest in a seemingly innocent way to everyone else.

"Farleigh if you ever needed my help why haven't you just asked?" You can see him become suspicious immediately, readying his defenses as needed. "What do you mean?" His brows twitch downward in expectation.

"Well, because if anyone knows how you feel it's me, when things at home are... delicate." You reach over and twirl the end of a piece of his hair in between your fingers with your free hand. "You get scared, feel lonely." You trail a finger down a button from his collar, watching as it descends.

"And it must be humiliating to have to go to them every time you need something." You dropped the secret you'd been harboring after overhearing him and Felix outside earlier.

You sighed, reaching down to the next button slowly wearing him down. "and I know you hate me." He cuts you off, "I-I don't hate you." He rolls his eyes, yet still sounds sincere enough to convince you he's being genuine. His hand snakes around your waist unnoticed by anyone else in the room.

You smile, knowing you have him where you want him just enough, "But instead of outing me, I could’ve helped you. I have ways of getting things done and l'd be happy to lend a hand." You barely correct yourself, Farleigh holds eyes contact whispering softly to you, "When I want something from you, you'll know."