#yikes that ended up being way longer

[provoke-my-gaze]

This morning before she went to work we spoke briefly about a number of things but one in particular was on the matter of trust, and boundaries.

Monday night when she was with him, she broke two of the boundaries we had previously set, though, they were boundaries about very minor things, honestly inconsequential to the grand scheme of it all. She said that between that fact, and the fact that it was in the moment and he asked her to, and she was horny. She broke them.

But even though they were minor, small things, that action was very telling for me. Between this, her history of lying to other people when the truth is too hard or too scary, her capriciousness about the things she says, flakiness on her promises, and the fact that he has a tendency to subtly push and prod against another's boundaries for his own sake, I've semi consciously painted a vivid picture for myself of things that have yet come to pass.

I am aware that no matter how hard I try I cannot actually predict the future- I very well could be wrong about all of this, this seems like a maladaptive coping strategy, etc and so on. But I would rather be aware of these things now and have a chance to protect my heart than to again be suddenly struck from behind by her betrayal because I Did Not See. I never want to experience something like that again.

So. I communicated these feelings to her. At this point it feels like this is all I can do- I cannot control another person's actions of course. Only my own emotions, and how I react to what they do together. It's a sad thing for me to admit but despite how deeply I love and care for her, I can never truly trust her at her word. But the ball is now in her court. What she chooses to do with the information I've placed at her feet is up to her to decide.

They'll be spending a long weekend together this week while I am out of the house. Maybe the two of them will talk more about what their new relationship means, and the dynamics of it versus that of her relationship with me. A silver lining for me, assuming they do talk, is that even if the outcome if not something I hoped (though to be honest I don't even know what that would be), and additional information I receive on his or her feelings and plans for their relationship empowers me to better guard my heart against any coming storms in the future.

I have to believe that this will get better- or at least, easier.

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Preparations, Danny soon realized, were very much useless. He'd spend a while just watching the vigilante, recording his habits and schedule, following him around and taking note of the little details. Call him a stalker, but he was just trying to make sure Nightwing didn't end up in an early grave.

Not like him.

Any and all preparations Danny had made could not ever fully gear him up for actually talking to the only vigilante he'd ever met. Sure, he knew the guy from afar, but actually speaking to him? Looking him in the eye? Having the other look back at him and actually respond? The closest he'd ever gotten to letting the guy know he was there was when he left food out for him and made sure he had water, sometimes coffee, within reach at all times.

Now that Danny was here, standing in front of the door to Nightwing's - Richard Grayson, he'd learned on day three - apartment, he was frozen. Was he actually about to do this? Could he really risk it? What if Nightwing flipped out?

No. He couldn't think like that. Nightwing's a vigilante, a detective, and an officer of the law. He won't attack willy nilly. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. Danny knew way too much about Nightwing's life to back off now.

Not allowing himself to hesitate any longer, he reached up and pressed the doorbell. He didn't hear the sound, but shuffling from inside alerted him that the man he'd come to see was now moving towards him.

'I hope this goes well,' Danny thought. Then, the door opened. "Good, at least you're taking care of yourself and actually eating proper foods. Now, I'm here to discuss your extracurriculars and how to time manage them properly without running yourself into the ground." He didn't mean to enter the apartment uninvited, but he didn't want to risk Nightwing closing the door on him or something. "I've brought my own board with an ideal itinerary that I expect you to follow." He turned to look at the man. "Any questions?"

Nightwing rook a second to process the words. Then, he said, "Yeah, just one: Who the fuck are you, kid?"

Well, he was in this deep, might as well dig himself a deeper grave. "I would say I'm your new legal guardian, but you're older than me and I can't exactly adopt a fully grown adult." Right? Yeah. Danny sat down stiffly, his bag on the floor and leaning against his leg. He pulled out the binder he'd cleared out and dedicated to helping the older vigilante and put it on the table. "I could say that you're my new legal guardian, but we run into a similar problem." Kind of. Being dead is a legal barrier, so adoption's off the table. Transferred custody on the other hand? Well, he's got that taken care of. Though, he had to wonder, "Could you adopt me?" No, he couldn't think of a way that would work. "No matter."

Nightwing, still standing by the open door, shook his head a bit as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Introductions? Yikes. "I'm Danny! Nice to meet you!" He had no idea how he's not completely bombed this yet, but he wasn't going to complain.

Nightwing didn't move from the door, let alone shake his hand. Danny put it back on his lap. "Likewise, I guess."

"What, no name?" Was that pushing it?

"I'm optimistic, not an idiot." Yeah, he'd towed the line a bit.

Shrugging to try and rid himself of the nervous butterflies in his stomach, Danny opened the binder to the front page. It was mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands, but it proved to be a decent distraction for Nightwing, too. Though, he pushed down a blush when he saw the glittery blue writing. It was the only other pen he had on him and he'd stolen it from Jazz.

The distraction didn't last. "How did you find this place?" Nightwing asked, the door still wide open.

"Doesn't matter." He didn't think the vigilante would take kindly to being stalked followed around the subject of a kid's curiosity.

Nightwing very much did not seem to believe him. "Why do you think I have a day job and a night job?"

Did he- Oh. The man was probably holding out some kind of hope that Danny wasn't saying what he was saying. Oops. Should he apologise? "I'm a realist, not an idiot."

Throwing the words back at him was probably not the best decision. Then, again, Danny hadn't made a whole lot of good decisions since he'd stepped foot in Bludhaven. At least here, there was a chance he could get away with it, relatively scot free. Imagine if he were in Gotham? With how violent Batman got recently? No thank you. He'd rather take his chances with his parents.

Danny did his best to not clear his throat as he flipped to the next page. "First thing's first. Why do you do what you do? Why go out at night to fight crime when, I assume, that's what your day job is for? Why hurt yourself to help other people?"

Those were all questions he'd had to ask himself before the portal destabilized. Why did he do what he does? Why risk himself to help the people who'd never thank him for his help? Why put his life on hold to do the job of adults?

He'd thought he'd had solid answers for them back then, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Regardless, this was a good place as any to start helping Nightwing.

If he could help just this one person, he'd be satisfied.

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @flame-343

[yayll]

~ a little something about the complicated way you and Dazai acknowledge each other's feelings ~

"We can't let it end like this. We simply can't."

"Dazai, what are you talking about? I'm literally just going on my lunch break."

"... I'll find a way for us to be together! Someday!"

You've been bickering back and forth with him ever since you stepped foot in the agency this morning, or more like he's been performing a whiney one sided narrative that you and your co-workers are more than familiar with. Though it's only ever directed at you. The confusing declarations of love, the lack of personal space, and then there are the days he won't even look or speak to you at all. It was emotional whiplash, but you did your best to drown out the feelings he evoked in you.

Dangerous ones you wouldn't dare indulge in, because if so, you get the feeling your heart would never recover from a man like Dazai. You grab your wallet, and push in your desk chair when he calls out to you once more in a much more serious tone, one that sounds bored.

"If you must leave, will you please pick up something on your way back for me?"

"What is it this time?"

"Bandages, I suppose"

He says that like it's an afterthought, like he couldn't care less for whatever he was asking for.

He's been asking you to go on odd little shopping trips for him for weeks now, and you being the dog you are, say yes every single time. You think about how Dazai loathes dogs. It makes you physically ill the way you feel about him. Whatever it is. You nod, and reply softly.

"Okay. Sure."

"So compliant! If I didn't know any better l'd say you're madly in love with me. Should we run off into the sunset and get married?"

You simply stare at his sardonic smile for a long while, and he stares back. It's like you're sending each other psychic waves, secret messages only you two could decode. Only you two could fathom. He stares into you with that piercing gaze of his, the one that might as well call you an idiot for ever thinking there's a real person behind his heavenly face. His eyes are pretty, they make yours feel dull in comparison. After a while, a faint half smile creeps onto your lips, trying to feign the same indifference as his. You fail, obviously.

"Mm, sounds too hopeful, even for you."

"Yikes! Right you are. Commitment. How awful.... No one wants that kind of trouble."

Dazai states cruelly, leaning back into his chair at his desk, arms crossed. He has to bite down to keep from smiling and giggling like a fool, as this is exactly what he wishes would happen.

His heart flutters for a brief moment at the visual of such a fantasy, such privilege to have you forever. He knows how badly you secretly want this too, but he doesn't plan on putting you out of your misery just yet. Shame on you to think of him as a real person who's allowed to pursue the things he wants! He continues when he sees you've gone completely silent, standing with your keys in your hand like a mannequin.

"Besides, I'm sure you've met plenty of other guys that are far more suitable for you. I mean, look at me, I used to be a criminal." He winks at you, hinting at his sketchy past. He's such a fantastic performer when he's at his worst.

"... And no one wants that kind of trouble, right?" You echo his past words back to him, once again failing to match his rejection.

"Oh you wretched little creature. Right again!"

You can't take much of this any longer, smiling politely as you simply turn around, and walk out of the agency. Your eyes sting.

Dazai just sits there, staring at the door, counting the seconds until you're back. He rests his chin on his palm, unblinking. He taps his fingers on the desk, and lets out a deep sigh. It's all he does, all he looks forward to every single day you leave.

You finally come back nearly an hour later, carrying a small bag and leftovers from your lunch. He lights up like the moon during the clearest night sky, and stands up immediately. His demeanor completely changes as he flashes you a delighted grin, rushing to you.

"You're back~"

"Yeah, here are your bandages."

"My what?"

"The bandages you asked for..?"

His eyes widen for a moment, and then he chuckles, shaking his head. He flicks his own forehead.

"Of course! Thank you. Now, may I have the receipt as well?"

He looks excited, his open palm cupped in front of you, as if you were giving him a treat. You raise a brow and shrug, handing him the crumpled piece of paper. You don't even question it anymore. He frowns. You think he looks like a disgruntled little kid.

"Ugh. You wrinkled it."

"What? Why does it matter?"

"Well I obviously wanted to keep it, silly goose."

You try to make sense of what he could possibly mean, and you decide it's not worth getting into. You can't afford the heartache nor the brain cells.

"That's the weirdest thing you've ever asked me."

"Not true. I've never asked you for a kiss~"

You almost drop to the floor with the way his eyes darken, despite his tone being the complete opposite. You stare at him yet again for what feels like ages, your heart set ablaze, with Dazai being the pyromaniac who won't let your embers die out of his own amusement. Your voice comes out low, meek.

"Well I'm clearly not the person you dream of, so no."

You could swear his awful smirk falls off just a tiny bit, but any evidence of that is gone in a blink of an eye. His voice comes out soft and laced with a hint of honeyed bitterness.

"And if you weren't, l'd dream of you anyway."

He mutters under his breath as he looks out the window, as if you weren't supposed to hear that. the sun is slowly setting and the moon will illuminate soon after. He wishes he could see what you look like at night.

You roll your eyes because if you don't, you'll bury your face in his chest and sob. Oh, he's the worst. You put on your best cynical voice followed by a scoff.

"That's lovely, Dazai."

"You look lovely." He states simply, still looking at the way the moon ghosts in the sky.

"... Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." He murmurs, solemnly. In that moment, you don't catch it, but he's telling you he loves you too.

And just like that, you slowly walk past him and sit at your desk. You might have a stroke, but you still have reports to finish.

Dazai quietly does the same, sitting down and opening a drawer, and then a secret compartment within it. He glances at you for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he flashes you an exaggerated smile when you catch him looking, then turns his attention back down, the smile dropping.

He places the wrinkled receipt into a larger stack of countless other receipts, all from past errands you've run for him lately. He smoothes it carefully, for it is a priceless sentiment amongst his collection of the things you so graciously give him. It's pathetic, but it's like holding your hand. It's like kissing you. It's like true love.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Playing with Fire: The House

Fandom: Marvel (Dad’s Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad's coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: This was long overdo! But here's the last part of Playing with Fire! Reader is in her mid/lates 20s. Bucky is in his early 40s!

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), p in v

The Book Store | The Photobooth | The Restaurant

After your errands and lunch with Bucky, he drives you guys back to your house. When you enter, your dad is sitting on the couch watching tv.

"Hey! Get everything done?"

You nod, "Yup! Buck was surprisingly very helpful," you playfully nudge the older man and he snorts.

"Well, she was being a brat the entire day."

You slap his arm, "Was not!"

Bucky chuckles, "Okay, okay. You weren't." he looks to your dad, "It was a good day. Things go okay at the office?"

Your dad lets out a deep breath, and holds up the beer in his hand, "This is my second beer of the day, so that should tell you how it went."

"Yikes," Bucky mumbles and joins your dad on the couch.

As you go through the stuff you purchased today, you pull out the DVD Bucky bought earlier, "Oh! Bucky found this movie at Carol's bookshop," you toss it to Bucky, who handed it to your dad.

"Woah! I haven't seen this movie in forever!"

You snort at your dad's excitement, "I guess I'll go change, make some popcorn and we can watch it?"

"Sounds good," your dad responds and looks at Buck, "You stayin'?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, I guess I'll stay around you losers for a little longer," he looks over at you and gives you a wink. You roll your eyes at him and head to your room to change into something more comfortable.

When you come back down, Bucky's in the kitchen grabbing himself a beer. You walk past him to grab a bowl and a bag of popcorn. He glances your way and then doubles back.

His eyes rake your body as you wear tight work out shorts and a thin strapped tank top. You're standing in front of the microwave, waiting for the popcorn to pop.

With a quick glance at your dad in the living room, Bucky moves to stand behind you, placing his hands on your hips. You gasp in surprise and hiss, "Bucky-"

He leans in, lips hovering over your ears and he whispers, "You look so fucking good in this outfit." He immediately pulls away and you spin to look at him. He gives you a smirk and a wink, exiting the kitchen as if nothing happened.

You let out a deep breath, mentally cursing yourself and your dad's best friend for getting you riled up.

You shake off the tingling sensation you felt when Bucky held you and whispered in your ear. No. You can't do this. You can't feel this way. You have a boyfriend!

When the microwave beeps, you immediately pull it out and dump the contents into a large bowl. You grab a water bottle for yourself and head into the living room.

Bucky and your dad sit on opposite ends of the couch, leaving the middle for you. You turn off the lights and plop in between them. You pull a blanket over yourself, the bowl of popcorn nestling in your lap, "Okay, ready!"

Your dad pushes play and the movie begins. Bucky immediately stretches his arms out and rests one along the couch, practically hovering over your shoulders.

You immediately shoot him a look and he just shrugs, turning his attention to the tv. The movie is an action comedy. The dialogue and humor is dated, but you still find it enjoyable. Bucky and your dad laugh throughout the movie. You chuckle at some points, but you're mainly there for the vibes.

Halfway through the movie, your dad loudly yawns and apologizes. You pause the movie, "You can head to bed if you want. It's getting late anyways."

He glances at the time and frowns, "It's only 9:30."

"Isn't that late for you old guys?" you ask with a smirk.

Bucky snorts and your dad chuckles, "Alright, you brat," he says affectionally, "I'm surprised you're not tired from running all over town with Bucky."

You shrug, "My youthful energy keeps me up."

"Hm, well, I am exhausted from work today, so I'll head to bed early," he points at Bucky, "See you tomorrow. Don't let this one," he points at you, "Bully you like she does to me."

Bucky gives a salute, "I'll keep her in check. Good night, man."

"Night, Buck," your dad pecks a kiss to your head, "Good night. Behave. Don't stay up too late."

"Got it! Night, dad!" you give him a wave and watch as he heads to his bedroom. You continue the movie, eyes glued to the screen.

The hair raises on the back of your neck as Bucky's fingers start drawing shapes along your shoulder.

"Bucky-"

"I'm not doin' anything, sugar. Be a good girl and watch the movie."

You bite back a moan. The way his voice was low and rasp when he said that, it definitely aroused you and you mentally scold yourself for it.

Bucky leans in as he grabs some popcorn from the bowl on your lap. He takes this opportunity to scoot closer to you.

You do your best to watch the movie but you don't even know what's been happening for the past few minutes.

Bucky leans in again and smells you, murmuring against your skin, "You smell so good, sugar. So sweet," his fingers play with the thin strap of your top, "Bet you taste sweet too."

You turn to him with a glare, "Bucky, stop. I have a boyfriend. I know you don't think he treats me right or whatever, but this needs to stop. I know you're trying to prove a point but I just-fuck."

Bucky immediately drops the act. He looks at you with remorse, "I'm sorry. I-I was pushing your boundaries and that was wrong of me." he distances himself from you, "I just," he pauses and runs a hand down his face, "You're a beautiful, smart, and sweet young woman. You deserve to be properly loved and cared for. This John guy doesn't seem like he's doing that for you. I just want you to know that you deserve better." he promptly stands from the couch, "I think I should head out now. I am sorry, sugar, truly." He gives you a nod then lets himself out of your house. You slump into the couch and bring a pillow to your face, screaming into the fabric.

_______________________________

A Week Later

You're annoyed. You're annoyed with yourself, with John, but most importantly, Bucky.

Bucky was right and you kind of hate him for it. John treated you like shit and what's even worse is while you were out running errands with Bucky and mentally scolding yourself for finding your dad's best friend attractive, John was fucking some other woman behind your back! He'd been cheating on you this entire time and you defended him when Bucky opposed him.

Ugh. What a fucking mess.

You're so upset and annoyed with Bucky that you drive over to his place to tell him so.

Your chest his heaving as you waltz up to his door and knock hard.

And of fucking course, he answers the door wearing a tight tshirt and gray sweatpants. He looks at you confused, "Sugar? You okay?"

You push past him, entering his home, "No, I'm not okay! I'm so annoyed with you!"

He cocks a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, causing the fabric of the sleeves to hug his biceps even more, "What did I do?"

"You were fucking right! John wasn't treating me well and he certainly didn't care for me as much as he said he was because he was fucking cheating on me!"

Bucky looks at you confused, "Wait, so your now ex-boyfriend cheated on you, yet you're upset with me?"

"Because you were right and I was feeling guilty for finding you attractive while I was still with John but that didn't even matter 'cause he was cheating on me a majority of our relationship!"

Bucky tries to hold back a smirk and you groan, "Stop that! Stop looking so fucking hot and riling me up! I hate it! I hate that now I see you as someone more than just my dad's best friend! I hate that I see you as this older guy who's smart and funny, annoying but handsome, dorky and also sexy and it frustrates me!"

Bucky licks his lips and steps closer to you, "Then why don't we do something about that frustration, sugar?"

Fire. You're playing with fire. This is your dad's best friend and yet you can't help but want him. You are a moth and Bucky is a flame and you're desperate for his warmth and glow.

"Fuck it," you mumble before pulling him by the back of his neck, pressing your lips to his.

Bucky doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss. He grips you by the waist, pulling you closer. His hands move back to grip your ass, causing you to moan into the kiss.

He pulls away just enough to murmur, "You sure about this?"

You look into his bright blue eyes and smirk, "Show me how a real man fucks, Bucky."

You watch as his eyes dilate and he practically growls, "With pleasure." He takes your hand pulling you straight to his bedroom. You've been everywhere in his house when you and your dad come over, but you've never been inside his room.

It's just like the rest of his house, dark colors, photos and knick knacks scattered around. Some paintings that his friend Steve had done, donning the walls.

You don't get much time to take in the room because Bucky picks you up and tosses you onto his bed. You giggle as you bounce a bit.

He falls to his knees, his hands sliding up your legs, "I'll treat you like a fucking queen, sugar. Show you how you're supposed to treated." he tugs down your leggings, tossing them to the floor.

He teases you through your underwear. He smirks as he feels how wet you are already, "Already soaking for me, baby? That's what I do to ya, huh?" He pulls you closer to him by the ankles. He presses a kiss over your clothed core and you whine.

"Buck, please."

"Whatcha want, pretty baby? Hm? Use your words?"

"Fuck me with your tongue. Please? I wanna feel your mouth on me."

He chuckles, "Whatever the lady wants, she gets," he quickly pulls off your underwear. Unbeknownst to you, he pockets the garment. He brings you even closer, your thighs sandwiching his head. He spreads you open and licks a stripe up your slit, causing your breath to hitch.

He moans as he tastes all of you, his tongue delving deep inside to then circle around your clit. Bucky watches you with hooded eyes as you grip his bedsheets in pleasure. Your back arched, eyes closed, and mouth open. You look like a goddess.

While Bucky's runs circles along your clit, he slowly inserts a finger into you. He pumps the digit in a slow rhythm which causes you to grind up into his face. You crave more and Bucky happily provides. He inserts another finger and you moan curses, paired with Bucky's name.

His fingers and tongue work in tandem together. You feel that pleasure building up inside you more and more.

You're crying out to Bucky, begging for more, desperate to cum for him.

"Shit! Bucky!" his name is the last thing on your lips as you gush around his fingers. He takes it all, happily so, as your legs shake around him.

When your body stills, he slowly lowers your legs onto his bed. And he stands, lapping up his fingers while taking in your spent figure.

"I was right," he says.

You look at him in a post-orgasmic haze, "About?"

"You taste just as sweet as you are."

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls off his shirt and pushes down his sweats. He crawls onto the bed, body hovering over yours, "You still want to do this? There's no going back after this."

"Please, Bucky. Fuck me."

He grins and pecks your lips, "Now how can I say no to you when you beg for me like that?"

He pulls away to rid himself of his boxers. He reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a condom. He quickly rips it open and rolls the rubber onto him.

He then goes to kneel in between your legs and you quickly wrap your legs around him, causing him to fall forward.

His arm catches himself before he can collapse onto you, "Eager, sugar?"

"You're taking too long, old man," you respond with sass.

Bucky's eyes darken. He grabs his length, and teases your entrance with it, "Tsk. Tsk. How can you be so sweet and so bratty as the same time?" He then sheaths himself inside you and you gasp.

He smirks at you and chuckles, "Nothin' to say, sugar?"

"Fuck me, Bucky," you mumble.

He promptly sits up and pulls you by the hips. His cock hits you deep and then he pulls back to only thrust back into you again. His movements are hard and fast to the point the bed rocks in the rhythm he sets.

"That's it, baby, so fucking pretty taking my dick." Bucky says as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure. You're gripping onto his arms as he holds your hips while he fucks you.

"Does your dad know you're here, hm? Does he know how his little girl is getting fucked by his best friend?"

You shake your head, "No. Fuck, no."

"Of course he doesn't. Can't know that his little girl is my fucking naughty girl, hm? Fuck, you feel so fucking good, sugar."

He bends down, propping himself by his arms, his body hovering over you as he fucks you. You pull him into a heated kiss, moaning into his lips while he gives hard thrusts.

"Rub your pussy for me, baby. Wanna cum together and 'm close."

You nod, immediately bringing your hand down to your clit and rubbing fast circles around the nub. The added pleasure causes you to clench onto his cock.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. That's it. Fucking close. Shit."

His hips slam into yours, harder, faster, as he's so desperate to get that release.

You're close too as you moan his name, "Bucky! Oh fuck!"

He thrusts once...twice.. and thrice until his hips still. He lets out the sexiest moan you've ever heard as he cums in the condom.

"Goddamn," he groans as he slowly pulls out of you. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and runs a hand through his brown locks.

He gets a good look at you. Your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

"Fuck," he murmurs, "We really just did that."

He pulls off the condom, tying a knot in it, and tossing it into a nearby trash bin. He then climbs off the bed, pulling on his boxers.

"I'll be back." he heads to the bathroom where he grabs a hand towel. He dampens it with warm water and comes back to you. You keep your eyes on him while he wipes you down. You take in his furrowed brows and a pit of insecurity opens inside you.

"Do you regret it?"

He sighs, "We shouldn't have done that."

"Okay," you murmur. After he's done, you immediately get up and start to undress.

Bucky stands and makes you pause, "Hey."

You look at him, on the verge of tears and it breaks Bucky's heart. As a tear cascades down your cheek, he immediately wipes it away, "I don't regret it, but doing that just made things complicated."

"I know."

"Your dad obviously can't know about this."

"I know."

"You also just went through a breakup."

You let out an exasperated sigh, "Bucky, are you rejecting me or not?"

"Not really. Your emotions were high. You just found out your boyfriend was cheating on you. All I'm saying is give yourself some time to heal before.."

"Before?"

"Before we can see where this," he gestures between you and himself, "goes."

Your brows shoot up in surprise, "You want to explore this?"

He shrugs, "We clearly have some chemistry, but you're also young. You're still in your twenties and have a lot going on. If you don't want anything with me, that's fine. I'll live. I just don't wanna hold you back from exploring and enjoying your twenties and college life."

You can't help but scoff, "Bucky, I've been spending a majority of my twenties either at school or with you and my dad. I don't think you'd be holding me back at all."

He shrugs again, "Still. Just, take your time, alright, sugar? I'll be here when you need or want me."

"Okay," you reply softly.

You and Bucky both redress and he leads you to the kitchen where he makes you lunch. Afterwards, you give him a peck on the lips and leave.

On your way home, you think about what had just happened.

You thought you after getting Bucky out of your system, you'd be done. But nope, you're still drawn to his roaring flame. Are you bound to get burned? Probably. But that's what happens when you play with fire.

[livefastdriveyoung]

Every team has a first and second driver. It is just that not every driver fulfills the role in the same way.

At Aston Martin we know Fernando is driver one. He is the more experienced driver, and right from the mouth of Lawrence Stroll himself, was brought in to make Lance a better driver so he could one day be the first driver. He does media, he's funny, and he also clearly has a mentor/mentee relationship with Lance.

I call this the mentor/mentee set up

At Mercedes, we know that Lewis is Driver one. Based on titles certainly, age almost definitely, and also because he is Lewis Hamilton. Until February, and even after, when you think Mercedes, you think Lewis. He is their better driver. He won six championships with them. He's stayed longer than most drivers stay on the whole grid. It is his through blood, sweat, and tears. George is the prince, he's set to inherit, potentially (BTW TORGER, I would like a word), and has a lot to live up to. Comparisons are hard, especially when the first driver is Lewis. I think that it's a forced proximity set-up, but they are friendly. Mostly off the track because on track they do not have their greatest moments.

I call this the King/Heir Apparent set up

At Red Bull, we know that Max is Driver one. Aside from the championships, he is just too fast. Every time one of the other drivers who drove alongside him was brought up to Horner or Helmut (YIKES to both), they would compare where they raced to Max. It is unattainable, and isolating. Until Checo. Checo didn't think he was going to be able to drive after BWT. He didn't have a contract, he was a middle of the pack driver, Mexico's son, and his story was supposed to end there. The Red Bull contract was a dream, but for all of the weird behavior some of y'all have with him (again, he's had his problems but the racism and idiot syndrome some apply to him is also NOT OK) he's not an idiot. He knows he's on a limited contract, he knows he's no spring chicken. Hearing him talk about next year, he knows he's very likely out of a contract. But he doesn't let any of this impact his relationship with Max. They are teammates, Checo will do what is best for the team. Max's whole world is predominantly driving. Checo has more of a balance, and in some ways, allows Max to be young.

I call this the Sibling set up.

At Ferrari, Charles LeClerc is Driver one. He is il Predestinato, the second coming, Monaco's prince. He can do no wrong. Carlos Sainz is the second driver. In spite of the fact that he got dropped from the team, in spite of the fact that he has won them two races, he is the one that is being pushed out. But he and Charles are friends, and teammates. They've driven together for several years now. Ultimately, while Carlos has done most of the heavy lifting on his side of the garage in terms of strategy and driving, he is also the one who knows when to walk away from the fight, when to stop letting yourself get hurt by the team that should be defending you. For Charles, Ferrari is a promise to Jules, to his father, to himself. He cannot walk away. In some way, Carlos can. That's why he makes the good second driver. The second in command is the one that sees the whole picture, including the first in command, because they never look at themselves.

I call this the friends/us against the world set up.

At Mclaren, driver one is Lando Norris. An indefinite contract, the sponsors, the adoration, Lando is the golden child. But Oscar is too, sort of. They're both young, both incredibly talented. But they're young. They're doing this together. McLaren went from disaster to top of the pack last season, and they're both on this ride together. I think McLaren is going to do whatever it takes to get Lando his win, but then I think they'll split 50/50. What will happen then, I don't know.

I call this the to soon to tell set up

At Williams, Alex Albon is so clearly driver one. Last year, he scored the majority of the points, they signed him for an extended contract, and they're desperate to keep him for 2026, when the car is supposedly going to be insane. Logan is the second driver. Alex wants to be the mentor, and to some degree he is. But Logan's narrative from last season to this season has shifted dramatically. Less and less people want to see him gone, they like the American. Williams renewed him. Whether because of sponsorship or genuine interest in his improvement, I don't know. But, in the last two races, they have managed to tank Alex's reputation, and boost Logan's. You don't publicly destroy your second driver's confidence, and career potential so publicly and walk away clean. We've seen it with Red Bull and Pierre, and Alex. Both times, those two drivers walked away with insane support. Logan is now receiving the same, but I wonder if it is going to make a difference. I think that Logan talking about what is best for the team is what is keeping him going, but if you watched the newest Team Torque, you can see fatigue and some tension between him and Alex. I don't know if it is jet lag, or work, or stress, or damage to the relationship. But this is a driver relationship on a razor wire.

I call this the Icarus set up

At Alpine, it is Pierre. He gets away with murder, at least by the team. Esteban has certainly mellowed a little, but he calls Pierre out still. However, they are both miserable with the car this year, so I think they are probably commiserating. The fact they can work together after years of rivalry and blatant hurt between the two is interesting. I think that both of these men have racing above all on their heart, and they will do whatever it takes to stay there. So for now, they suffer in the car, and they are colleagues.

I call this the "there's no other choice" set up (aka forced proximity)l

At Visa CashApp, there's currently a power struggle. Daniel is Daniel. He's been second driver for a few years, he's been third driver. He's got the popularity, though it is waning, and more importantly, he's got Christian Horner's support. That, plus the fact that the team talks about Daniel's presence being about helping them improve, makes him sound like first driver. Except, Yuki has been First driver for years. He's the one who stayed through the revolving door of drivers. This is his team. Honda pays the majority of his salary. So when you bring someone in, someone who doesn't even want the seat as much as he wants the Red Bull seat, the seat that should be yours, you're not going to go down without a fight. It creates this weird tension, but then Daniel is like "I know how lucky I am to be here, I'm focused on driving here," and is already being threatened with losing the seat like Nyck was, and Yuki realizes he might never get the Red Bull seat. So you have these two guys who are fighting for the same thing, that doesn't want them.

I call this the Alone Together set up

At Sauber, it is Valtteri. He has won gps, he's former Mercedes, who used to come second usually only to Lewis. He's funny, older, a weirdo that people love and feel they know. Zhou is younger, he's dealing with the pressure of being China's only son, and the higher expectations of him. Valtteri helps keep him young and focused. He's been through the wringer, and he's teaching Zhou that it is not going to be what breaks you.

Also Mentor/Mentee except the mentors are nuts in a different way

I don't know what the hell is going on at Haas.

[forzaferraris]

UH OH ! — cl16. [ series masterlist . part ii . ]

CHAPTER ONE / gorgeous.

❛ you should take it as a compliment, that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talked. ❜

summary : usually, birthday parties are supposed to be a close friend's and family celebration, so why on earth are you being dragged along as your friend's plus one?

warnings : implied references to cheating. food mentions. vomiting mentions but not explicitly written. sexual themes, inuendos. a purposeful choice to refuse to write without capital letters. too many taylor swift references. google translated french. no use of y/n but reader is referred to as soleil by charles and that transfers on through all the fic. charles leclerc's toxic relationship. alcohol consumption, drink responsibly. suddenly charles leclerc is actually decent at flirting. inaccurate storyline of pierre's birthday. 2023's silly season just got sillier. live laugh love kika gomes. word count : 1.7k

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[ caption one: hot girls always do skincare 🧖🏻‍♀️ / caption two: i fear i girlbossed to close to the sun, how did i end up here ⁉️🤨 ]

THE STREETS OF PARIS , were lively enough that you could blend in seamlessly, everyone else dressed essentially to the nines in their finest attire, walking in and out of all the restaurants in the vicinity. you want to cower, wrap the shall around yourself tighter and hide away; you'd never felt more insecure and out of place in the entire month you'd been vacationing in france, until this very moment.

everyone around you exudes the amount of confidence that comes naturally to them that you wished you had, even if you felt genuinely good in the outfit Kika had practically forced you in when you'd briefly mentioned having nothing to wear to the event she'd asked you to tag along to. a part of you wants to remind yourself that you knew better than to expect things to play out differently, it wants to ridicule you for going back on your usual stance of always expecting disappointment to no longer feel disappointed.

you wave off a taxi that pulls beside you, you're already at your destination, and a fleeting wave of nausea makes you want to clench your gut, and hurl what little you'd eaten earlier throughout the day into the hedges beside you; you don't, thankfully. instead, you resort to the safety of your phone, back-and-forth bickering between your best friend and Kika to work up your nerves to get yourself inside the building.

you feel wobbly on your feet, something you will also plan to blame on Kika when you find the courage to get yourself to walk in through the door of the Laperouse, a considerably more elegant spot to eat at than you would have picked, you only dread the fear of looking over the menu and bearing witness to the prices of the food.

the ding of the bell above the door pulls your head out of your phone when you're met with the silhouette of quite possibly the most attractive man you'd ever had blessed your gaze ��� excluding that one time you'd run into lorenzo zurzolo on a girls trip to madrid and fumbled the whole ordeal so embarrassingly you had to block him on instagram to keep from ever seeing him.

his actions are almost more exaggerated in frustration than you'd plainly described to your friend, his hand is constantly dragging down his face when he pulls the phone away from his ear, promptly allowing you to hear the snippets of french being, basically, screamed through the phone at him. yikes. the phone call seems to drag on and the amount of time you've been staring at this man can be somewhat considered borderline stalking if he wasn't uninterested in the world outside the french screaming match on the phone.

deciding you'd done enough oogling to satiate for the brieft maladaptive day-dreaming you'll experience during mundane errands. with the very little courage you had, you wipe your hands on your dress, pitifully, and tuck your phone into the clutch before making your way inside. you're blissfully unaware of the way the man had turned towards the noise the heels of your shoes had made against the pavement, his attitude doing a complete 180 had him disregarding the remainder of the phone call before finally giving up, a defeated sigh follows the silence of the call being ended.

'i told you so. . .' your brain supplies when you feel even more out of place being inside said restaurant than how you were simply just standing outside of it, you felt both over and under-dressed watching the mass of patrons standing at the front bar along with the glimpses you could get inside the dining room from where you wait at the hostess stand.

"can i help you?" the hostess asks, words sleek with her french accent as she flicks her gaze up towards you before down at the booking book in front of her. you fiddle with your fingers, white-knuckling the black clutch, suddenly unable to find your own words. the woman rolls her eyes, and taps her perfectly manicured finger against the book and you visibly shake.

"elle est avec moi et la réservation Gasly" a voice speaks, standing behind you, close enough to be flush against you, but remaining a finger length away from you, refusing to lift your head, you don't dare look at who's just saved yourself from any more bouts of unwavering embarrassment for the night.

"profite de ta soirée" the hostess grins, it doesn't shine in her eyes and it's clearly a put-on customer service smile, forced to maintain a friendly atmosphere within the restaurant, you're allowing yourself to be lead through towards the private dining room, stepping away from the man, you mumble a simple thank you in your own butchered french pronunciation as you spot kika and find yourself attached to her hip for a majority of the night.

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[ caption one: @yourusername spotted arriving at pierre's birthday party / caption two: @yourusername wearing the monot black maxi cutout ]

now, see if you weren't the type of person to be so easily persuaded into joining in on the drink festivities, you wouldn't have ended up with kika as one of your closest friends. you were never one to turn down alcohol, especially open bar alcohol; which is perhaps why you'd found yourself in a state of being a social butterfly, you'd floated around the room, meals long since eaten and cleared by the wait staff left people standing around and conversing.

mixtures of english, french and portuguese filling the room, bits and pieces of conversations you were picking up, but with your minimal understanding of french you found yourself avoiding anything beyond "hi how are you?" and introducing yourself, aside from that you smile and nodded before politely excusing yourself to float around once more.

"are you purposely ignoring me?" there it is, the sound that would haunt your best dreams and your worst nightmares; the shiver that runs up your spine makes you inadvertently cringe at yourself, how were you this reactive to a voice, you're going to blame the entire thing on the amount of sparkling moscato you'd been drinking by the glass.

"hm? no, no i'm not ignoring you?" you mock his accent, turning around to finally make eye contact with him, lips pursed into a line to keep yourself from giggling, the bubbles in your stomach is either your own nerves, the bubbly alcoholic beverage you'd consumed or a mixture of both — either way you feel content enough to be less than self-aware of the situation.

you can almost see the way he visibly lights up at the interaction, the way can't hold himself back from laughing at your attempt to mock his accent, the way his eyes crinkle and the laughter that follows the expression leaves you virtually speechless, you'd never been in a situation where someone, especially not a man. had ever laughed at you in a way that didn't feel the least bit mocking towards you; his laughter subsides and you feel yourself mourning the noise, head tilting to the side before he's taking a sip from his own glass.

"how do you know pierre?"

"through kika, she's the sole reason i'm here" you explain, gesturing with your hands as you talk, the conversation carries on throughout most of the night, new drinks replacing old ones all whilst the distance between the two of you closing inch by inch and shamelessly, perhaps even a little selfishly you allow it.

you allow more than just close proximity, you allow his knee to knock against your own, the hand to graze your waist as his arm moves around you to put his empty drink on the bar. you allow yourself to meet his gaze, hold it and find yourself lower and lower your own inhibitions. the good, the bad and the ugly of a man who hasn't asked for your name and whose name you hadn't bothered to ask for either.

perhaps, it's the events of the night that led you to here, in this heat of the moment pursuit of pure guiltless drunk happiness, lips against the nap of your neck in the back of a taxi, a hand dragging dangerously up your thigh, closer and closer to a spot you hadn't known longed to be touched until now. you're mutual shouts of laughter are shared through the streets of paris, leading into the hotel room you'd been staying in for the week, you're set to check out the next morning, but realistically, what's one night of parisian fun to end your trip with a bang, literally.

"soleil, fuck, the things you are doing to me right now" his voice comes out like a growl against your ear, his teeth dragging along your ear lobe and further down your neck, never biting, just allowing the feeling to pull the breathless noises out of you. your hand finds its way to nestle into his hair, grip tight and pull him away, the way he looks at you, a gaze you're all far too familiar with, lust.

god, had you wished you knew life wouldn't feel so horribly if you'd felt like this the entire time, the way the man finds himself home between your thighs, even as they clench around his head as soon as his tongue flicks against your abused and overly sensitive clit, fingers working their way in and out of your as you're pushed to complete your third orgasm — your hands griping the pillow behind your head, back arching as you moan out breathlessly, the needy coil in your stomach untangling once more as he pulls the orgasm out of you; your left breathless and shaking as your ride out the orgasm on his fingers.

his face is glistening with your juices; god if you were brave enough to take a picture you would have, he looked effortlessly pretty as he wiped his face with the back of his hand and finally pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean.

you were royally screwed. even after you woke up in the morning, he was still asleep, but check-out was soon and there really wasn't any need to actively remain in the hotel room bed any longer, even if the man sleeping beside you was dreamy, even asleep, you knew alcohol-influenced one night stands were less than impressive to boast about the next morning. so you do the easiest thing to bypass awkward morning conversations, you leave a note with your number and leave.

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liked by francisca.cgomes, yourbestfriend and 489 others yourusername are you happy to have been in paris? oui! tagged francisca.cgomes

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user girl, what is that on your neck in the second pic?? ⤿ yourusername the question is are you a narc?

francisca.cgomes paris couldn't handle us for longer than a week ⤿yourusername where too next gf x

yourbestfriend i miss you come home ! ⤿yourusername i think i might find a new home ⤿yourbestfriend you're really gonna abandon our kids like that?

user since when have her an kika been friends? ⤿user since like forever, they grew up together

yoursisteruser look at you being a slut pookie, we love to see it ⤿yourusername get out of my comments blocked and reported ⤿yoursisteruser can you answer my facetime now, you got a lot of catching up to do, this is new name lore !!!

authors note : hi oh my god, so i'm absolutely nervous to actually have this be posted, it's not been beta read so i apologise in advance trying to edit this myself was the longest task i've come to find myself tethered to. i really like the plot of this story, the smut a lil dry because my smut writing is dry, we gotta work ourselves up to that, later chapters pookies, later chapters. i would have added more to the story, i'm like super inspired by this, but alas the 30 image limit said, no. so we gotta listen !

add yourself to the taglist here !

taglist : @iluminaya @greenbaby12 @therealcap @marshmummy

[eroselless]

PATO - FIVE

series masterlist | part 3 | part 4

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: pregnancy, angst, breastfeeding, spanish and google translated french

note: Yikes, the way I wrote charles is lowkey toxic, mb lol. This part reminded me of a picture i saw ages ago about how men and women deal with breakups, dudes moving on immediately and end up being sad after a few months and women being sad for a bit and then moving on after a few months. 

Anyways, shoutout to my baby sisters for being my main inspiration behind Lucero and for helping me figure out what babies do at 13 months lol I apologies in advance if some things don’t make sense, I tried my best to imitate the way they used to speak and use that for Lucero. 

Although not necessary, I listened to this playlist while I did all my writing and editing. It’s a nice bittersweet blend. If you guys wanna give it a listen, I think it would enhance the feelings in this part :)

We’re bouncing a little with the time jumps again but as always, they have the dates so its easier to track :) Happy reading!

MEXICO, OCTOBER 2024

Charles staggers into the hotel room, chest heaving as if he’s been sprinting miles without rest. His chest constricts,  each breath coming out in shallow puffs as he struggles to recompose himself. 

“Mon cœur?” he hears come from the bedroom and he no longer has it in him to hold back. Alexandra peeks out, eyes full of concern as she approaches the sobbing man. His face is buried in his hands and he would give anything to blend into the wall he’s leaning on. Guiding him to their room, she sits him down, slotting herself between his legs as he grips tight around her middle. His tears soak through her shirt as his body wracks with loud sobs. 

Frustration, anger, sadness – they all jumble together in his mind. Alexandra runs her fingers through his hair, murmuring comforts and feather light kisses into his hairline and waits for the sobs to soften before speaking. 

"Mon cœur, que s'est-il passé?" she asks, gently pushing his face away from her torso. My heart, what happened? She cradles his face as he looks up at her, silent tears staining his face. “That little girl we met today... she's my daughter. I didn’t know.” His voice is hoarse when he whispers, full of regret and guilt.

Alexandra’s eyes widen at the admission. “Charles, comment a-t-elle pu te cacher quelque chose comme ça? C'est... impardonnable," she says, her tinged with sympathy and indignation. How could she keep something like this from you? That's... unforgivable.

Charles shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, a few tears still escaping down his cheeks. His sobs are fading in quiet hiccups as he slowly regains his breathing. “No, Alex. It’s not her fault. I’m the one who wasn’t there, it’s all my fault. I didn’t care enough, I left.”

She’s puzzled at his confession, lost in the depth of his sorrow. “What?”  

​​*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MONACO, DECEMBER 2022

You’re lying partially on your side, arm draped over your bare chest as it rises and falls at a steady pace. He watches as you turn away, hair cascading over your back. The sheets are wrapped just over your middle, your upper body completely exposed to the air. The soft morning light filters through the room and Charles can’t help but think of the events last night.

He can still hear your voice as it echoes through the room, begging him not to stop. He can feel the crescent moons you’ve pressed into the thick muscles of his back. The ghost of your lips still lingers on his skin, like the stain of red lipstick on the collar of a white shirt. 

He leans over your sleeping figure, dragging his nose over your shoulder and pressing a ghost of a kiss there. It rouses you just enough to murmur a drowsy protest. “Don’t go,” you whisper and reach out for him, the tips of your fingers barely catching his skin. He is already on his feet. 

"I'll be back soon," he lies, slipping out before you can say anything else. He busies himself with mundane tasks, filling his day with errands that could be left for later. He thinks of you, all on your own, in your shared apartment waiting for him to come home. As you always did. He drives across the city, glancing at his phone as your messages roll in, swiping them away almost as quickly as they came. 

The truth was, being at home was proving to be increasingly difficult as time went on. His home with you, once a sanctuary, felt like a pressure cooker ready to pop. He loved you, doted on your every move but the constant fear of his career and unrelenting scrutiny of the public had slowly started to suffocate him. He couldn’t bear to break your heart and burden you with his overwhelming amount of feelings. What if he’d never be good enough for Ferrari, good enough for you? With every moment he spent away, he kept sinking into his own mind, choosing to ignore you and your attempts at breaking down his walls. He hated being away from you but he couldn’t help but pack you away into a corner of his mind, where he knew you’d be waiting for him, day in and day out. 

He comes home late that night, the guilt of having to face you gnawing at him. It's well after sunset and the night air is cool, the breeze turning icy. He walks through the door, expecting the lights to be off but is surprised to see you leaning over the sink, rinsing off dishes. 

Your face lights up when you see him, a tender smile he knows is only for him.

“Cha, you’re back,” you exclaim, turning to face the counter closest to the wall. You pick up a plate, filled generously with a meal that he could tell you spent a great deal of effort on. It’s gone cold in his absence. 

He only gives you a small smile, pressing a light kiss to your temple. He can’t help but feel a little surprised at your good mood. But he can’t bring himself to match the enthusiasm you carry in your voice.“I’m not really hungry,” he mutters, eyes not meeting yours. “I think I’ll just shower and head to bed.”

Your smile falters as he moves towards your bedroom, hurt flickering across your face. “But.. I made this for you. You’ve been out all day, I thought we could eat together.” 

He forces a smile, trying to appease you and end the conversation quickly. “I appreciate it amour, really. I’m just really tired.”

He can feel your eyes on him as he turns away, heavy with unspoken words. If he knew then what he knows now, he would've stood in that room and held you close. He would’ve tried harder to keep you by his side. He would’ve told you that he loved you. But he didn’t. 

She’ll come back, it’s okay, his thoughts echo while he stares at the door as you run into the night. You’re his rock, his anchor. His home. Weeks trickle by slowly and he can feel you slip away as more time goes by. He eventually stops thinking that he can hear your keys jingle in the lock at the front door. Your scent no longer clings to the bedsheets and the lush scented detergent you would buy gradually runs out. He slowly begins placing your things in boxes and taking them into storage where he hopes one day you’ll come to get them. Soon enough, he erases you from the apartment completely and it's as if you were never even there.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles shakes his head, his breath hitching. “I would do that often when I was home. I would lavish her with affection, trying to make sure she knew that I loved her with my whole being but…” he stops, pressing shaky fingers to his lips as if his breath is completely depleted. “I would find reasons to leave, seeking comfort in anything that wouldn’t make me think of what I was feeling inside.”

"Why?" Alexandra asks softly, her hand gently stroking his back. 

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing her, of not being enough. I thought keeping my distance, both physically and emotionally, would protect the both of us, but it only drove her away."

Alexandra's heart aches for him as he confesses. She knows Charles loves her but as his emotions spill out before her, she can’t help but feel like the other woman. She feels guilty as this new feeling is born and grows quickly. He’s confiding in her and the only thing she can think of are the doubts beginning to spiral in her mind. Trying to mask her discomfort she wraps her arms around him, his body relaxing against her as his breath gets smoother. 

"You did what you thought was best, Charles. You made mistakes, yes, but now you’ve learned and can move to find a better way forward," she says as her hand rubs up and down his back. 

Charles shakes his head. "I was selfish, Alex. I was so focused on my fears that I ignored her needs. I wanted to build a life together, to have a family. I pushed her away, and now... now I have a daughter I've never met."

Alex swallows hard as tears begin to bead in her eyes. She tries not to think too much about what he’s saying. She tries not to think about how this could make or break them. Would he still want to build something with me? Have the family he’s always wanted with me? 

“But you're here now and that’s all that matters. It’s not going to be easy but you can still be part of Lucero’s life and maybe, in time find a way to make amends.” She meets his gaze once again. The whites of his eyes are now red, only making the green around his iris look more brilliant than it did before. “Thank you, mon amour. For being here, for listening. I don’t deserve you.” 

She gives him a small smile, pushing away the feelings of insecurity that are now growing in the back of her mind. “Nous allons nous en sortir. Juste… ne m'exclut pas, d'accord ? Je ne peux pas t'aider si tu ne me laisses pas entrer.” We’ll get through this. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.

“Je promets,” he nods, pulling her into his arms again. I promise. 

Charles is exhausted as he lays in her arms later that night, face pressed into her chest, snug against her heart. Alexandra lies awake in the darkness, the thought of you overtaking her mind. Her hands tenderly brush over Charles’s hair, his deep breaths tickling her skin slightly. There will always be a part of him that belonged to you. And it makes her wonder, with Lucero and you beginning to take your places in his heart, would there still be room for her? 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun gently peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir from your sleep, eyes heavy as you turn to the sound of Lucero’s cries. You begin to pull yourself up, pushing the sheets off of you. You hear a string of tsks next to you, Carlos gently pulling you back to bed.

“Tu quedate aqui,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “Yo voy por ella.” You stay here, I’ll get her.

You mumble a slurred ok, nodding with eyes still very heavy as you settle back down. Eyes still puffy with sleep, you settle on now propped-up pillows. Pulling at the straps of your sleep shirt, you slip the top off. You watch hazily as Carlos moves to Lucero’s makeshift crib, his steps quiet and measured. He coos at her and you can see her little hands reach out for him, legs kicking in frustration. “Buenos días, mi patito,” he says, cradling her close. “Ya vamos con la mamí, no te preocupes.” Good morning, my duckling. We're going with mummy, don’t worry. It makes your heart flutter as he stares at her with his gentle eyes, pressing a kiss to her hand as it goes to poke at his chin. 

He makes his way back to the bed, watching as you adjust yourself in your spot. Lucero babbles, her initial upset fading into a groggy murmur as she nestles into the crook of Carlos’s neck. Her thumb catches on her lip as she tries to suck on it.

Carlos chuckles as he watches her latch onto it, gently pulling it from her mouth. “No, señora,” he says teasingly. No, ma'am. “No thumb-sucking, little miss.” His gaze is warm as he hands her to you. 

The room fills with a peaceful silence as Lucero latches on, her small body relaxing in her mother’s arms. She holds on tightly, almost insatiable as she feeds. Carlos climbs back into bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze is fixed on the two of you, eyes soft as he sees how devoted you’ve become to your little one, the love and connection strong between you. 

He can’t help but feel a sense of awe as he continues to watch you. He can’t help but admire how far you’ve come, the bond between you and Lucero beautiful and pure. The feeling of protectiveness and devotion to the two of you grows every day. He catches him thinking of the babe as his own, his daughter. She meant everything to him and he can’t bear to even imagine his life without her in it. Yet, he knew that Charles had a right to be a part of her life too, no matter how much it hurt to have to share that role. It's a thought that fills him with warmth but follows with a pang of bittersweet reality. 

With Lucero’s cries ceased, you gaze down at her. You're engrossed with how peaceful she looks, her little nose pressing into the flesh of your breast, little hands holding you as close as she can. Her eyes are beginning to droop again as her tummy fills up. She sighs in her stupor, pausing briefly before continuing.

You can feel Carlos’s gaze on you. He looks at you in adoration, fingers ghosting over Lucero’s chubby legs. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, sitting up as he does. Taking a deep breath, he breaks the silence. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asks gently. “And what comes next?” 

The question hangs in the air briefly, heavy with the weight of this new reality. You take a deep breath, mind coursing with different thoughts and emotions. “Not really, no.” You confess with a dry chuckle. If you could stay in this moment, just the three of you, you would without a second thought. “But we need to.”

He takes another deep breath, nodding. His expression is thoughtful as he threads his fingers through yours, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I know,” he says quietly. “I was thinking… If we’re going to do this, maybe we should also think about involving Alexandra.”

You blink in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing. “Alexandra?” you repeat, voice uncertain. 

Carlos nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I know its complicated, but she’s a part of Charles’s life. If he’s going to be in Lucero’s life, she might be too.” 

Your expression is still a puzzled one as you respond. “I hadn’t thought about that,” You admit. “Do you think it's a good idea?”

Carlos sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I think we should at least be open to it. Lucero deserves to know everyone who loves her. And I’m here, i know it’s not the same but I feel that because of that, she should be there too. We can’t ignore that.”

Your heart aches slightly at the thought, fear and hope swirling in your chest. “I’m scared, Carlos,” you say, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t want to make things harder for her.” 

Carlos leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know,” he whispers, eyes trained on her little figure, still sucking away. “But we need to think about what’s best for her in the long run. We’ll take it slow and be there for her every step of the way.”

Your eyes begin to fill with tears, your grip on Lucero tightening slightly. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if it hurts her?”

Carlos’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s okay,” he says firmly. “We’ll protect her. But we can’t shield her from everything. She deserves the chance to know her family, even if it’s complicated.”

You nod slowly, heart heavy with the weight of the decision. “Okay,” you say softly. “We’ll try. But we have to be careful. We have to make sure it’s what’s best for her.”

Carlos smiles, his eyes filled with love and pride. “We will,” he promises. He presses his forehead to yours.“We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucero had finished feeding, her eyes now drifting closed as she snuggles against your chest.  You look down at her daughter, feeling a swell of emotion as you cradle her closer. Her jaw trembles slightly, a sign she was tired once again. “I just want her to be happy,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly.

Carlos wraps his arm around you, pulling the two of you close. “She will be,” he says gently. “She has you. And she has me. And now, she has a chance to know her father too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BRAZIL, NOVEMBER 2024

The sun is high over Sao Paolo when you arrive to the paddock. The air is electric with excitement, spectators slowly filling up the stands around the track. Their conversations create a gentle buzz that echoes above the garages. 

Carlos makes his way into the paddock, smiling at photographers and journalists as they wait for his entrance. They don’t miss the small body he holds in his arms and the woman that trails closely behind him, fingers intertwined with his. 

Your eyes scan meet the people waiting for you to enter, a delicate smile gracing your lips. Once in the Ferrari garage, you take release a breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding back. 

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” you ask Carlos as you’re settled in the back of the garage. A sudden wave of nerves washes over you as you can see a couple photographers clicking away around the garage. “Bringing her here?”

Carlos leans on one of the tables with you, nodding, fingers gently brushing over her wispy tufts of brown hair. “She seems to like it,” he points out as she squeals happily, pulling at the wire that connects to the big headphones Fred passed to her as you entered. “Besides, it’s good for her to see where Charles and I spend so much time.”

You smile, the concern still evident in your eyes. “I just don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Carlos says, fingers going to lovingly pinch at your arm. You know he’s referring to her but the look on his eyes makes you think he might mean you too. 

Lucero spots the red car being worked on and babbles excitedly as she sees the garage technicians checking around the car. 

“Cah-loh!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of wonder and determination. “Sí, Lu, un carro,” you correct gently. Yes, Lu, a car. Her attempt at say carro was endearing, the R sound still elusive for her baby tongue. Car. “Es rojo. Puedes decir, rojo?” she claps her hands, ignoring your request. Its red. can you say red? 

Carlos chuckles, leaning down to kiss her head. “Lolo’s going to drive el carro rojo, mi amor.” he says to her, pointing to himself and adding a soft vroom as he begins to imitate a car with his hand. He makes almost a flying motion with his hand in front of you before gently whooshing it towards the bubbly baby, tickling her tummy. She giggles, managing to grap his hands and pulls at his fingers. She holds them up to her face, a soft gargle of buh buh buh falling from her lips.

Lucero catches the eye of Charles as he makes his way into the garage, his eyes lighting up as he approaches you. He’s wearing those god-awful bleached jeans again, the odd stripes something you always teased him about. You just don’t see the art yet, he’d often say.

He gives Carlos a side hug before hesitantly leaning over you and wrapping his arms around you. It sends a wave of nerves through the both of you. He lets go quickly before he can think much of it and crouches slightly to meet Lucero’s eyes. 

“Bonjour, ma petite amour,” His voice is soft as he speaks to her. Hello, my little love. There’s an eager smile on his face, one that masks the nerves that were bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s one you recognize. 

Lucero looks at Charles, suddenly clampering into your arms, tucking her face into your neck. Charles’s heart clenches at the sight. “Muñeca, dile hola a Cha,” you say, his nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. Doll, say hi to Cha. 

You poke gently her little tummy, pulling her attention to her father. He smiles at her as she peeks out from behind your hair. You guide her hand gently towards Charles and she meets him in the halfway, her little fingers wrapping around his. “She’ll warm up,” you reassure. “It’s a lot for her, all these new faces and places.”

Charles nods, a slight flutter of uncertainty vibrating through his chest. “I understand,” he says. “I’m just happy to see her.”

Carlos observes the exchange, emotions swirling in his chest. He can’t help the protectiveness and understanding that bubble up as he sees this. He moves away from the table only to have Lucero reach her arms out for him. 

“Vienes conmigo, estrellita?” he asks as she pulls away from you and Charles, oblivious to the emotions of the adults around her. Are you coming with me, little star? She points excitedly at the car again, prompting Carlos to get near it. Buh buh buh she tries quietly.

“Bah bah,” she finally manages, voice loud as she proceeds to bury her face into Carlos’s shirt. He lets out a giggle as she does so. “Baba, bluum.” he looks at her with wide eyes, bouncing her in his arms. He glances over at you, jaw slack as he identifies what she’s trying to say. 

Charles’s smile falters momentarily. She means papa, he thinks. He masks his broken-heartedness quickly and turns to you. “She seems to really like the cars.” He comments, trying to keep his otne light.

“She does,” you say, glancing between the two men. “Maybe she’ll be a driver someday, like her father.”

“Maybe,” Charles says, his voice sounding like it’s far away. The word father hangs in the air, shrouded in a veil and he’s not sure if you mean Carlos or him. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Unraveling the Ferrari Enigma: Carlos Sainz Arrives with Mystery Woman and Baby, Spotted Again with Charles Leclerc at Brazilian GP

In an unexpected twist at the Mexican Grand Prix, Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz was seen arriving hand-in-hand with a mystery woman and a baby, sparking widespread speculation and intrigue within the F1 community. The woman, identified by sharp-eyed fans as Y/N L/N, the elusive former girlfriend of Sainz’s teammate, Charles Leclerc, has rarely been seen publicly, adding to the mystique surrounding this revelation.

Y/N L/N, who maintained a low profile throughout her relationship with Leclerc, has remained a figure of intrigue among fans and the media. Leclerc, known for his privacy regarding personal matters, never publicly acknowledged L/N, making this unexpected appearance alongside Sainz and the child even more startling.

Adding to the speculation, L/N and the baby—whose identiy remains undisclosed—made a second appearance at the Brazilian Grand Prix, further capturing the attention of the F1 world. Observers noted that not only were L/N and the child seen with Sainz, but they were also frequently spotted around Leclerc, intensifying curiosity about the current dynamics within the Ferrari team.

The repeated public appearances of L/N and the child have ignited a flurry of questions regarding their connection to Sainz and Leclerc, and what this means for the Ferrari drivers off the track. Could this development cause tension between Sainz and Leclerc? With the high stakes of the racing season and the close-knit nature of the F1 community, the unexpected appearance of L/N and the baby has undoubtedly raised eyebrows and sparked numerous questions.

a/n: Hi friends! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Any feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated, they seriously keep me so motivated <3

What do you guys think about this little news item? I enjoyed coming up with the one I made back in part 2, I thought why not make one for this part? Should I keep adding them in every now and then?

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy @honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux @jeondeluxe111 @dessxoxsworld @xoscar03 @emryb @yl90 @poppyflower-22 @a-distantdreamer

strike through => tumblr won’t let me tag you!

[hetfieldlovebot]

JAMES FUCKING READER WHO IS DAVE’S GIRLFRIEND AFTER KICKING HIM OUT OF THE BAND (sorry dave 😭)

YOU ARE SICK AND TWISTED AND I LOVE IT

i did a drabble on this before but it was never public so using some stuff from that hehehe (80s jamey obviously)

hetfield x afab reader

part 1(?)

cw: smut, pre established story, cheating, fingering, light degrading, praise, sneaking in

_________

you and James had been messing around for months, despite your terrible guilt youcouldn’t resist James, it had all started months ago when you were at a party hosted at Metallica’s shoddy little group house they shared. you were quite tipsy, Dave had filtered off somewhere and passed out while talking to Lars, James had sat down on the couch next to you and offered you a cigarette which you graciously took.

you really did care for Dave but as of recent you couldn’t take his behaviour, that night they had argued and Dave’s hotheaded temper left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you promised Cliff at least you’d be at that party. A few drinks and a couple cigarettes later, you and James were feverishly making out on the couch and getting a little too handsy in the absence of everyone else, the two of you had connected as friends but it all devolved with the drinking and talking.

the next morning you swore to yourself you’d never let it happen again. but a sobering fact was thrown in your face, Dave was kicked out of the band, suddenly he was on you like a fly on shit being so clingy. you felt awful, you were planning to break up with him because of last night’s events left you considering your relationship and the passion you were missing but Dave was such a sweet guy, you couldn’t do it. the guilt was immense but you couldn’t add to that right now, it’d be so cruel.

that never stopped James, for the next few weeks the cocky bastard would sneak into you place, climb through you bedroom window, sometimes even when Dave was there, he’d find a way to get to you.

this particular evening you were laid on your stomach on your shared bed in the home you shared with Dave, kicking your feet idly, studying for a course you were taking, the air was nice and breezy, the window wide open on that particular summer evening. it was around 7pm and the sun showed no signs of setting, casting a warm glow all across the house through the windows. you were twirling and fidgeting with your hair as he was reading, humming lightly to a Metallica song (yikes) as you read your textbook, your mind just absorbing as much information as possible and getting so lost in it you didn’t even hear the sound outside the window fully. you assumed it was Dave who was downstairs playing guitar and shrugged it off, your mind drifting off to James for a second and you felt your whole body fill up with adrenaline, lust, excitement and heavy guilt all at the same time. A confusing mix that left you breathless, always.

and when James was around? you were practically a brainless and needy mess even if you would repeat over and over again how they couldn’t, how violently wrong it was, how they couldn’t do this, James would always get you in the end.

the two of you hadn’t gone the full way yet but something in James’ brain knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist him much longer. he could tell you felt so giddy whenever you thought about James, he’d seen it in passing before he’d crawl through your window most nights, the way your eyes would light up randomly whenever his songs came on or you discovered something he’d left subtly to mark his territory as - that’s what he considered it as.

he was your secret, your horrible, awful….dirty, exciting, secret and you had absolutely no idea James was currently climbing up to and slipping through his window for the umpteenth time these past few weeks, approaching you from behind sneakily to get you spooked.

It wasn’t until you felt cold hands brace the bottom of your back, curling around your hips that you squealed, that was until a large hand came around to cover your mouth.

“miss me, baby?”

he cooed quietly, a shit eating grin on his face as he met your eyes in the mirror by your bed, chuckling softly as your body relaxed, he took those few seconds to flip your body to face him, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as he leaned over you.

“James! you scared this shit out of me! you can’t be here!”

you’d protest, as usual, and as usual it would fall on deaf ears. his hands were already working away, tugging your shirt up and pulling your shorts down.

“don’t lie, sweetheart, you missed me so much, look at you…already soaking…mm, Dave really has to up his game before i steal you away for myself, huh?”

he purred in your ear, condescending as usual but he knew you liked it, being belittled and praised all at the same time. the power he had over you made him dizzy, made him crave this over any other random hookup he could get, obvious in the way he touched you with outright desperation, eager fingers delving into your panties and right over your clit in torturous circles.

“s-stop! stop, Jamey, we can’t! he’s downstairs! i told you not to come here anymore…I-…”

the moan that escaped your lips was even more desperate than his frantic touch, you knew in that moment that you’d given as much away, and judging by the sly grin on his face and the small tilt of his head, you were in for it.

“oh? did you say something, darling? i can’t quite hear you over those needy moans of yours.”

you tried to protest again, honestly you did, but before you could even make a sound, his fingers slipped in and curled right up to that sweet spot that had you trembling.

“you were saying?”

he teased, pumping his fingers slowly, just enough to have you whimpering which was quickly silenced by his lips, crashing against yours in a frenzy, a deep sigh of satisfaction escaping him as you let him in once more, tongues exploring. he’d been waiting for this all fucking day, between long hours at practice and droning conversations with managers and people who thought they knew better than him, relief teetered right on the edge and he intended to take it.

“what? can’t speak all of a sudden?”

you hated how he got to you like this, but you nodded in agreement anyways, it was agony, pure sweet agony,. he kept hitting the right spot each time, every pump his pace picked up, the whimpers and moans escaping your muffled mouth were filthy and he loved it, his hand over your lips adding to the taboo of the whole ordeal and as much as it was awful, it was intoxicating and it got you off like nothing else. soon enough that familiar feeling was brewing, taut in your belly like a string about to snap, your eyes met him in a silent beg.

he grinned once more, that familiar smile that he knew you hated because it always signalled mischief, he pulled his fingers out right when you needed them the most, leaving you looking dumbfounded and pathetic. tonight was the night, the night he would truly have you, he cupped your face and leaned in for a surprisingly gentle kiss, leaving the both of you dizzy and flushed, he nipped on your lower lip before pulling back and whispering.

“spread your legs, sweetheart, i’ve got plans for you, can you be a good little slut and take it?”

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 43/?

Prev | Next

If Tim had a nickel for every time a feral child held a League of Assassin weapon to his throat, he’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. What was his life even?

“I won’t let you take my dad away from me,” the little kid, Danny, yelled. His eyes were glowing like Jason’s would when he was angry. Oh boy.

Tim dodged the erratic slash of the knife.

“Hey, I’m not here to take away—whoa, watch it!”

Tim barely dodged a slash to his stomach that would’ve had his guts spilled to the floor.

“Daniel James Fenton, put that knife down, now!”

Jazz appeared out of nowhere and snatched the knife from Danny’s hands.

“This isn’t a toy! You could’ve hurt Tim.”

“That’s the point,” the little boy said while glaring at Tim with green eyes. Tim shuddered; if looks could kill, Tim would be a dead man.

“Now give it back, you fink!”

The little boy levitated, trying to get the knife that Jazz had put out of reach. The little boy was meta.

“What’s going on here,” Jason asked. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were rumpled.

“Your son tried to kill Tim.”

“He’s trying to take you away from us!”

Jason’s firm expression softened, “Danny, lad, I told you last night. I’m not leaving you. Nobody can make me leave you, Jazz, or Ellie. I promise.”

Danny’s lips started wobbling. Suddenly, Tim felt like a dick (Sorry, big bird.) even though the kid had tried to kill him. How was that fair?

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave our haunt.”

“I promise, chum, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” Tim believed Jason.

Danny hugged Jason and clung to his leg while glaring daggers at Tim. Tim felt very unsafe.

“Now, what did I tell you about using that knife without my permission or Jazz’s permission?”

Danny buried his face in Jason’s leg and mumbled.

“What was that?”

“To not use it.”

“Exactly. You took it out of the safe and were using it to hurt someone else. You know you’re gonna be punished for that, right?”

Danny glared at Tim again before nodding.

“Okay, Jazz and I will discuss it and decide later. Now, go get ready for school.”

“I don’t want to go to school,” Danny whined while crossing his arm over his chest, “you could leave while I’m gone. Or he can take you away from me.”

Tim scoffed, “As if I can make Jason do anything.”

“Quiet, fruit loop,” the kid yelled out. His hands started glowing green. Tim barely dodged the beam of light that was aimed at him. Where had stood was a steaming scorch mark. Yikes. Forget a knife. That was the least of Jason’s problems with this kid if he ever wanted to kill anyone.

“Danny, stop trying to kill Tim!”

Jason picked the kid up and took him to another room. Tim was left alone with Jazz. Suddenly, Tim wished for the murderous kid back. At least he knew how to deal with deadly children. He didn’t know how to deal with someone that could pick his brain apart. No wonder Bruce avoided therapy.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s hard for Danny to control his emotions even if he is technically sixteen.”

“It’s not a problem; he’s not the first one who’s tried to kill me—wait, what do you mean he’s sixteen?”

Jazz smiled, showing way too many teeth.

____

It took longer than he would like to admit, but Jason had been forced to compromise with Danny for the time being. He wouldn’t have to go to school that day, and Danny promised he’d stop trying to kill Tim and apologize. Why did Jason feel he’d gotten the short end of the stick?

Jason understood where Danny was coming from. He was scared Jason would disappear and leave him behind, but that was no excuse for attacking Tim.

Why did Jason suddenly feel like a hypocrite? Danny stared at Jason with a knowing look. He sighed. Sometimes, it was horrible that his son could read Jason’s emotions.

They left the room and found Jazz feeding Ellie. Tim was nibbling on a piece of a bagel while staring thoughtfully into space. A steaming cup of coffee was at his side.

“Danny, is there anything you have to say,” Jason prompted.

“Sorry for, y’know,” Danny gestured vaguely.

“Danny,” Jason said warningly.

“Ugh, fine! Sorry for trying to kill you! There, happy now?”

“Danny, that is not how we apologize,” Jazz said.

“‘Danny, that’s not how we apologize,’” he mocked his sister.

Tim stared at Danny, “Yeah, I can definitely see the teenager now.”

“You told him,” Danny asked, angry.

“Yep,” she said unrepented. Ellie smiled at Danny. Her mocking expression looked out of place on a toddler’s face.

“Whatever,” Danny said. He sat across from Tim and glared at him. Jason sighed. It was going to be a long day.

____

Tim hated to admit it, but domestic life looked good on Jason. He had observed the older man throughout the day. He was happier. His shoulders didn’t tense up, and he laughed—not a sardonic or mocking one, but one full of joy. Tim could tell that Jason adored Danny and doted on Ellie.

He carried the little girl everywhere. When Jazz left to go on a run, he played with her. She laughed and played peek-a-boo by disappearing and reappearing. Tim knew she had powers; Jazz had told him so, but it was a surprise to see it.

Tim digested everything Jazz had told him while watching as Jason tickled Ellie’s feet. Her peals of laughter echoed throughout the house. Danny continued to glare daggers at Tim. Tim felt prickles at the back of his neck the few times he turned his gaze away from the boy—teenager?—whatever.

Another dimension: de-aging, displacement, and finding a new family.

Watching Jason spend time with his new family, Tim knew he would never convince Jason to return to Gotham. Honestly, feeling the happiness surrounding the small family, Tim didn’t want to anymore. After all, Jason had left behind his old life and built something good for himself.

He had figured out to be happy, something Bruce and even Tim had yet to figure out. Hell, maybe the rest of the family, too.

That did leave one question in Tim’s mind: Where did that leave him and Bruce?

____

Jason wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he felt something in his chest tighten as he said goodbye to Tim. After all, here was a tie to his old family, and he was letting him go. A part of him almost felt like asking the baby bird to stay with them. To become a part of his new family.

He knew he couldn’t. Bruce would lose it if he lost one of his birds.

“I won’t tell Bruce where you are. He already forbade us to look for you. I don’t want to get chewed out.”

Tim gave a bitter smile.

“You built something great here. I’m sorry for intruding.”

Yes, Jason couldn’t let a part of his old life stay, not while it could compromise his new-found happiness.

“I know you don’t want to return to Gotham, but maybe, and I’m not saying you have to, but think about talking to Bruce.”

“I can’t, Timmy; what if he tries to take Danny away from me? What if he wants to send Ellie and Jazz away? What if—what if he sends me to Arkham?”

Tim said nothing, though Jason felt that he disagreed with him.

“Can you leave now,” Danny asked. He was still glaring at Tim. Jason sighed. His little boy really didn’t like Tim. Well, he guessed it took a while to warm up to the Replacement.

“Danny, stop that,” Danny turned his glare toward Jason, huffed, and then stomped into the house.

“Here, my number. Don’t give it to them, but you can text me.”

Tim nodded, memorized the number, and returned the paper to Jason.

“See you around, I guess.”

Tim turned and started walking toward his car before pausing.

“Before I forget, Alfred loved his birthday present.”

Jason followed Tim to his car. He got in and put the window down before whispering, “I won’t talk about your powers, either. Though I am curious.”

Jason stayed silent. He had hoped he hadn’t given any clues to Tim that he had powers now, but the little bastard was observant. He wondered what gave him away.

“Just so you know, I think Bruce would accept you the way you are, powers and all.”

He put up his window and turned on the car. Jason watched as his brother drove away.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife @randomafterthought

[theesirenteller]

maybeee a little domestic Drabble btwn my faves before the night ends?!😂👀👀👀

*•.¸♡ 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙨𝙠 ♡¸.•*

Every November Christopher caught the flu. Like clockwork, it came and slipped into his system like a thief in the night. Usually, he would pump himself with various herbal teas, supplements, and any other immune-boosting products a month before so that the cold would come and go. He couldn't afford to miss out on work for longer than a few days. He could afford it but he didn't want to or like to. This year he didn't prepare due to not remembering. He had a lot more on his plate these days with juggling around new business ventures, plotting around keeping a certain councilwoman out of his hair and being back in a serious relationship. So when that Mucus monster hit him, it hit him hard.

He was currently lying across the couch in his apartment with his headphones tucked snugly against his ears. His arm draped across his eyes as he tried to drown out the body pain and discomfort he felt on the inside. This was the faze of body pains, sore, fever, and a sore throat. He had been past the mucus, stomach aches, and chills.

A light tap on his chest caused him to remove his hand from his face and open his eyes. Only to be faced with Epiphany seated beside him with a glass mug of bright yellow liquid, "I ain't drink'n that shit again," he stated with a horse tone. His eyes lowered and glared as his lips held a permanent scowl.

Which caused Epiphany to giggle, "Yes you are. If it wasn't for this 'shit' you'd be still sounding like a cat loaded with hairballs." She caressed the side of his face with the back of her hand, "aw papíto, you're still so hot." she pouted.

"Come on...just a few sips." she coos in an attempt to sway him.

Christopher stared at her, His eyes trailed along her face and body as he inhaled deeply.

He slowly sat up wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his arms. Epiphany huffed at the sudden overwhelming sensation of heat that overwhelmed her body. He laid his head against her chest, snuggling his chest against her breast as Epiphany hugged him tightly. 'my poor baby' she thought to herself until she heard glass click against the wood. "Hey! Come on you still have to-Chris!" Epiphany's bickering ended with a sudden yelp as he flipped her onto her back on the couch.

"Better luck next time champ." He chuckled before placing a kiss on her head as he hovered over her.

"Ew!" Epiphany squirmed with a huff as she smacked her hands against his chest, "Get your zombie ass off me."

"Aw, that hurts." He chuckled deeply with a mocking tone as he stood up, "That ain't what you said last night though. What was it again? 'oh papi ven a dormir dentro de mi te extraño'," (come sleep inside me I miss you) he mocked her, raising his voice to a lighter tone.

"Whatever, it's your fault I'm needy." She dismissed with an eye roll with her cheeks blushing red.

"And I ain't complaining," Christopher called over his shoulder as he made his way across the living room and collected his black high-top sneakers from the closet.

"Where are you going?" Epiphany questioned as she sat up.

"Back to work." He replied with a flat tone.

"You-"

"Hey, Daddy! yikes, you like the little girl from the ring." Marcus interrupted the pair by running into the living room from his bedroom.

Almost as if both Marcus and Epiphany had jinked him, Christopher started coughing. Strained and rough mucus-filled coughs left his mouth causing both Marcus and Epiphany to squeal in disgust.

"Ew!"

[closetsof-backlogged-dreams]

what would’ve happened if azula was the one who had an iroh and zuko stayed back? (their characters and personalities would be the exact same as in canon, but their roles would be reversed)

love u<33

TAKING A BREAK FROM STUDYING = azula breakdown time <333

im ngl, we're prob gonna be looking at a longer post today bc this is a lot to breakdown😭 so buckle up chickies we're going IN

THINGS WE HAVE TO COVER IN THIS ANALYSIS:

how Zuko leaving did affect Azula

how being forced to leave did affect Zuko

how being forced to leave would effect Azula

how Azula leaving would effect Zuko

how Iroh's effect on Zuko would translate to Azula

the literal changes this would have had on canon

so let's get into it!!

Zuko leaving and it's effect on Azula

So, we know Azula has a problem with abandonment, starting with her mother and ending with Zuko. To try and keep this as short and readable as possible, I'm just going to say that this obviously resulted in a constant need for control over the people she loves, very obviously shown in her relationships with Mai and Ty Lee and even Zuko in season three.

She also just has a very convoluted perception of love (obligatory azula love-fear-control analysis plug), that largely stems from never having it readily accessible to her. Now, even when Zuko was around, they never had a good relationship and she was always his tormenter, but what if they had reconciled? What if they had been able to heal that broken relationship? We'll never know if that could have been a possibility, but Zuko leaving ensured all true familial had been removed from her life.

How being forced to leave affected Zuko

We all know that being forced to leave his home and his family had a huge impact on Zuko as a person. It made him rash, angry, and determined to find the Avatar so he could return home at the cost of anything—even his own life.

Iroh became his anchor, guiding him through the worst of his turmoil and always steering him in the right direction. Iroh kept him human, and stopped him from killing himself trying to capture Aang.

Pre-banishment, we did still see that Zuko was snippy, and still had a temper that could be brought out at times. But post-banishment, all his childhood sweetness was abandoned. Anger became his default setting and his source of power. He was definitely struggling with at least some level of self-resentment and a simultaneous lack of confidence (never being good enough) and over-confidence (required to believe that he could find a man that had eluded the world for a hundred years)

Overall, his banishment made him fueled by anger and constantly at war with himself

How being forced to leave would affect Azula

Azula is a very validation-motivated creature. She has to be perfect, at all times, at all costs. There is never a misstep with her, never a miscalculation. So much as a negative word from her father could destroy her and push her off the edge.

So, imagine this girl, this super-perfectionist, messing up so badly that she is banished from her entire nation? Her father disapproves so much that he disowns her and threatens death in the event that she ever came back?

In the (honestly unlikely) event that she doesn't immediately kill him/overthrow him or try to harm herself in any way, and follows Zuko's storyline of leaving to find the Avatar... yikes. However angry and obsessed Zuko became with finding the Avatar, Azula would be a hundred times worse. The psychological breakdown she had at the end of the show? Yep, that.

She would tear through research and the entire world, leaving death and destruction in her wake. She would become a monster. (Of course, having a support system like Iroh with her would help immensely, but we'll get to that in a bit.)

There is also the question of: would Mai and Ty Lee come with her? If we're following Zuko's banishment to a T, then she should be banished at age thirteen, around a year before we meet her in canon. I'm not going to lie, that's a whole other analysis in and of itself, so maybe I can do a separate post on that later?? Send me an ask if you're interested😭😭

How Azula leaving would affect Zuko

There are two things we have to remember here: despite being the oldest sibling, Azula was always the favorite and most accomplished of the two. He was always ridiculed and looked down on due to being so far behind his sister, in raw power and cunning both.

But at the same time, this means that all the pressure to succeed was put on Azula's shoulders. It's why she became such a perfectionist. She always was perfect, so now she had to perfect enough for both of them. Now, where Zuko had been mostly given up on, they would be pushing for him to step up as heir and become the perfect one.

This is a pressure he's never had to experience before. Azula was the way she was for a reason—she became a perfectionist because of that pressure, and Zuko would probably become the same way.

Of course, I still think he would keep his sympathy and genuine humanity that Azula often lacked, but he would be forced to push it down most of the time. Where he had been grounded by Iroh in the show? Gone. He would have absolutely no one to turn to, absolutely no one to support him. If we're sticking to canon, maybe he would have Mai, but that's where it stops. And he would probably be the over-controlling POS he was in the first half of season three, maybe even worse.

Overall, Azula being banished would absolutely destroy Zuko, and probably push him to that same psychological brink Azula was teetering on the entire series. It wouldn't be pretty, that's for sure.

Zuko & Iroh -> translated for Azula & a mother figure

Okay, in order to fully answer this question, we have to take note of all the things that made Iroh and Zuko work:

Iroh losing his own son, and Zuko filling that cavity in his life

Zuko having an abusive father and Iroh becoming his father figure

Zuko needing and Iroh being an anchor in Zuko's life to keep him human

Zuko being given up on his entire childhood and Iroh being the first person with genuine faith in him and willing to help him

So, let's translate these things into Azula, and a hypothetical mother figure (disclaimer!! no hate to Ursa; this is just all from Azula's perspective and how she views her relationship w her mother <3):

Azula's mother figure potentially having once had a daughter that she was too hard on/did not treat well and wanting the chance to do right with Azula

Azula having a mother that believed she was a monster, and her mother figure reassuring her that she is human and does have the capacity for good

this mother figure also being an anchor in Azula's life, and saving her from absolutely destroying the world trying to go home

Azula being forced to be perfect her entire childhood and her mother figure being the first person to genuinely help her and allow her the space to make mistakes and reassuring her that it was okay

(Okay, not gonna lie here, this idea of a mother figure for Azula is really getting to me—the urge to write a fic I'll never finish is STRONG)

Overall, a mother figure that would support Azula and genuinely care for her would have had a colossal effect on her. I really believe that Azula would have been able to have a happy ending. idk this is really getting to me😭

AND FINALLY:

the literal changes this would have on canon

For one, I genuinely think Azula would have succeeded. Azula has always been a prodigy, and while Zuko was able to become powerful with the guidance of Iroh, Azula started out that way. I also think that while Azula's mother figure may have been able to steady her and keep her from the brink, she never would have been able to quell Azula's ambition. Her ambition is just too much a part of her, the same way Iroh was never able to quell Zuko's fury.

Also, Zuko did have Aang a few times! But he also had the sympathy to let him go, or was just not powerful to stop him from getting away. Azula was different. Genuinely nothing could of stopped her from capturing season one, inexperienced, little kid Aang. It may have taken a few shots, but she would have done it.

I really think Azula would have succeeded and returned home as a new woman, with the support of her mother figure, and now with the capacity to genuinely love people (at least to some degree.) I think Azula and Zuko would have been able to repair their broken relationship. Azula would have become Firelord with Zuko as her advisor, and the Fire Nation would have reigned in a new era. The Fire Nation also most likely would have been successful in conquering the world, now.

So, happy ending for Zuko and Azula and most of the Fire Nation, but... no one else lol.

wow! this was actually such a fun idea to play with. probably one of my favorite asks you've ever sent me<3 i love u sm we are unstoppable

[elvensorceress]

So there is a "leaked" script that claims Eddie asked Marisol to move in, and is it just me, or is that completely out of character for Eddie? He dated Ana for longer, and they weren't living together. we are really supposed to believe that he would ask Marisol to move in after a few months of dating? Unless Eddie is unable to process anything after learning his Buck. Is dating a man that is not him, and instead of breaking up with her like he planned, he pulls a Buck and asks her to move in with him.

Eddie does not deserve to be stuck with someone like Marisol.

According to 7x04, he apparently needs a live-in babysitter so he can go out with his shiny new boyfriend. So… 🤣  And it took a whole relationship and a blackout before Ana was his babysitter! Just from that much I’m still going, yikes. Like, girl, do you not have friends? Do you not have someone who will tell you this relationship is red flags all over the place? Can we not call up your Folger brother and have him talk some sense into you? 

You’re very right though. Eddie deserves so much better. 

I have heard about the supposed leaked scripts and I’ll talk some about that under a cut below in case anyone wants to read my thoughts on it. 

But what I’ll say in general is that in some of the interviews we’ve been seeing recently especially with canon bi!Buck, Mr. Showrunner had scathing things to say about love interests who are just there to be love interests. He didn’t like that they couldn’t interact with any of the other characters and that they weren’t part of the overall story. 

Given we’ve had what, two? offhand comments and maybe five whole seconds of screen time this season with her, if they wanted to actually develop that relationship for the audience, they could have done that. And should have done that a long, long time ago. (For example, see Eddie and Tommy’s relationship. In one whole episode they did more to build that up than they have done for Eddie/allegedgirlfriendconfirmedterf in all of season 6 or 7.)

Instead, they showcased the bond between Buck and the Diazes and the trauma that Eddie and Chris still have over Shannon leaving and them losing her. And also Eddie’s new friendship with Tommy that sounded like they were both spending every day, every moment together. 

So far for Miss Homophobe, we have—

hey mari it me eddie from the hardware store

the phone call where they set up a date

it's not MY date it's CHRIS' date (r u sure, dude? why is she there then 🤣)

her chaperoning Chris’ date with Eddie

her babysitting twice off screen

Obviously, she’s in the next episode and they have a pizza date while Eddie has to stare at his bestest friends while they’re on a date. But at this point, if you want the audience to root for the relationship or enjoy it at the very least, it’s a little late in the game for that? We have nothing to go on and it doesn’t make sense if we’re taking it at face value. 

All this to say, if he does ask her to move in with him, there is no way for the audience to buy that it’s genuine, reasonable, or a smart move. It reads like Buck asking Taylor to move in with him because he cheated and he’s desperate and clinging. Even if Eddie and the terf show up and are all happy and handsy and lovey, it’s not convincing. There’s been no development. It would come across like Buck and Ali apartment hunting and being touchy and giggly, and then her dumping him at the end of the episode. It sets up a contrast between what we think is happening and what is really happening. Perceived happiness vs the reality of not knowing each other and their relationship crumbling.

I don’t remember who said it or when it was said, maybe it was Kristen? But I know someone talked about how Eddie rushed things with Ana and they were wanting to do the opposite when continuing his story. Dating someone for (how long has it even been? 2-3 months? Idek? Does Eddie even know?) Mere months and asking them to move in reeks of, “something is going wrong and I have to fix it by doing something rash and ill-advised to keep us together.” 

Remind me to do a post about Eddie also being someone who clings and stays because it’s convenient and he doesn’t want to be alone. 

It would be completely out of character if it is a sincere, legit thing. However, as a panic response? I buy it. But that also doesn’t bode well for their future. Darn. Hold on, I’ll get the champagne. That relationship is just waiting to be bones. And in an episode called, “You Don’t Know Me,” is where they’re putting their relationship under a microscope? Hildy, cue up the ominous music. 

I doubt the glorious day we are free of her will be this week. I think they are just starting whatever they have planned. Unfortunately. I would hope they kept her around and brought her back for a reason like what they did with Eddie/Ana. I want there to be something satisfying about the end and the fact that we have to suffer through this. It just needs to happen quickly because I am so over homophobic terfs who know what fucking show they’re on and what the story is and still persist in their assholish bigotry.  

Now? My thoughts on the leaks?

IF we are to believe they are legit, and who knows if they are. But if we are saying they are legit, then Buck comes out to Eddie at the very end and Eddie is surprised. So, Eddie likely wouldn’t be jealous or weird about Buck and Tommy dating if he didn’t even know they are dating. Plus, they just had a whole episode dedicated to jealous!Buck and it would be redundant to immediately take that into, now EDDIE is the JEALOUS ONE. I think they’d have to take the story further for Eddie to really consider how he feels about Buck and Tommy dating. 

Maybe it will come down to him being displeased by it (for some unknown reason he just can't put his finger on) and grappling with how he genuinely likes Tommy a lot and that’s a new thing for him and one of Buck’s love interests? But it wouldn’t happen this week. In theory, this week is about Buck feeling like he’s hiding because he just realized he’s bi and hasn’t told anyone yet. Hence, more of the “you don’t know me.” 

Obviously, I am rooting for Buddie. All the way. All the time. I like Buck/Tommy just fine but they’re not BuckandEddie. But I think it will take a while before we see anything that might really develop the Buck & Eddie storyline. They’re working on Buck’s bisexual awakening and his first time dating a man. WHERE OH WHERE ARE MY EDDIE STORYLINES.  I just want them to do some justice for my boy. Give him something interesting! And for the terf to gtf away from him. :D

And apologies, I rambled a lot at you. Love and hugs!

[luminetti]

𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ༺♡༻ Chapter 2

༘⋆Notes: sorry for the wait! This chapter turned out a lot longer than expected and I had more I wanted to include but it was too difficult to fit in. Ch3 will have more conflict, so until then, enjoy some fluff and pure idiocy at the end.

༘⋆ Chapters: ┆[1] ┆[2]┆[3]┆[4]┆[5]┆[6] ┆[7] ┆

ao3

It goes without saying that you had absolutely zero plan for taking in a near-corpse. Amongst the various other oversights, you were particularly struggling with finding a way to sneak breakfast into your room every morning. Despite Gale’s remarks, you thought yourself to be fairly crafty. The good ol’ ‘stuff-a-pancake-in-your-pocket’ trick was one of your proudest ideas, even if your company refused to see the ingenuity of your ways. You thought it worked well enough for the time being, but with Gale’s slow healing and several pockets worth of maple syrup, you reluctantly decided to look for other options.

Unfortunately, your search was ultimately cut short one night in the kitchen by none other than Sebastian Neredras, your eldest sibling.

“Put the bread down.” Sebastian spoke from the doorway, arms crossed. Ever since your father had died, Sebastian had taken on a more authoritative role with you and Euphemia. Though you would assume that he had more important things to worry about than interrogating you at eleven at night.

Turning slowly to face him, you slipped the thick piece of focaccia into your dress pocket. “What bread?”

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Tav Neredras,” he began, hauntingly calm.

Yikes. Full name.

“What is it for?” Sebastian continued, sternly.

From behind him, you could see Euphemia watching from the foyer, distraught.

“Don’t look at her. Look at me.” He shifted his weight, blocking Euphemia with his body. “Bread. Explain. Now.”

You tore off a piece of the focaccia in your pocket and popped it into your mouth. “Midnight snack?”

Sebastian’s fingers tightened into a fist and he took another slow breath in. Turning around, he diverted his attention to your sister. “Phemie, by Jove, my fist will–lovingly–be through this wall if you don’t tell me this instant.

You focused all your efforts into burning a stare into your poor sister’s eyes. Out of everyone you’ve ever met, she had the loosest tongue by far.

She apologetically met your stare as she blurted out, “He’s a Viscount!”

From the doorway, you watched as Sebastian’s posture visibly stiffened and he turned with bone-chilling fluidity. “And who, exactly, is ‘he?’”

Mustering up your best innocent smile, you cleared your throat. “Gale Dekarios.”

“–of Waterdeep.” Euphemia chimed quietly.

Sebastian hastily strode towards the guest room with Euphemia in tow. He had just barely placed one hand on the door knob when your sister cleared her throat, eyes flashing towards your bedroom door.

In disbelief, Sebastian slowly crouched to his knees as if all energy had finally left his body. His eyes closed and his chest heaved with several drawn out breaths. “Tell me you didn’t.”

You silently teetered on your heels. “I, uh, I think we both know.”

His breath came out all at once in a shaky exhale. “Phemie, please offer the Viscount a proper dinner.” Sebastian slumped against the wall, utterly defeated. “I will set up the guest room.”

“What about-

Sebastian held up a hand, cutting you off with his eyes still closed. “I can’t- I don’t- I’m not even going to start with you.” Pointing to the corner of the dining room, he waved you away. “Just sit. Sit and think about your actions.”

✣ ✣ ✣

To your surprise, a fortnight passed by fairly smoothly. Sebastian most definitely not gotten used to Gale’s presence, but he was handling it… well. Gale was more like a house pet than anything else. You and your siblings each took on different roles when it came to caring for the Viscount. Euphemia started to cook larger portions for each meal while you managed his healing process. Sebastian probably helped in some way as well, though he was quite adamant that it was not his issue to deal with.

Gale seemed to be faring well, despite his situation. You had been routinely checking up on his wound, changing the bandages when needed, and tracking the medication that he was on. Despite your consistent encounters, you knew almost nothing about the Viscount and vice versa. Well, that was until about a couple days after he was ‘accepted’ by Sebastian and moved into the guest room.

It began slowly.

Every so often when you came to check on Gale or bring him dinner, he somehow found a way to slip in a question about your personal life. Your favorite colors, foods, flowers, all of which he managed to slowly pluck out of you, night after night. Honestly, you were pretty astonished at his perseverance. However, you were perhaps even more astonished at your own reciprocity, easily relinquishing facts and anecdotes about yourself each time he asked. You were fond of most colors with the exception for certain shades of orange, you could not stand tomatoes, and you were particularly fond of eglantine flowers.

Occasionally you even found yourself asking questions back to him. After only a week you learned that he prefers the color violet, enjoys fancy wine, and his favorite flower is–appropriately–the violet.

“I never did ask,” you began one night, sitting down for the routine bandage change. “How did you manage to get this?” With the wound exposed you could see the ripples where the bullet tore his skin alongside the taut scarring that covered the edges.

Gale bristled as you pressed a cold cloth dipped in medicine against his abdomen. “It was a duel,” he explained. “I had received a letter from someone, requesting to meet on the outskirts of Waterdeep.”

You removed the cloth to apply more ointment. “Sounds like quite some havey-cavey business.”

He chuckled, humorlessly. “I’d have realized it sooner had the letter been adequately labeled with the true correspondent.” Sitting up, Gale leaned towards you, allowing for easier access to his wound. “In place of the woman I was expecting was a man who demanded an affair of honor–a duel, in her name.”

For some reason you couldn’t fight back a sharp pain in your chest at the mention of his old flame. Well… you assumed it was old. “I suppose tabletop games are more your style,” you offered, attempting to liven the gloomy atmosphere.

Gale let out a heavy breath, his body easing at your change of subject, seemingly relieved. He placed a hand on the new white gauze covering his abdomen, thanking you quietly as you collected the old bandages and exited his room.

As you walked down the hallway, you found yourself heading towards the withdrawing room. Adorning the walls were your paintings from over the years, a variety of several still life subjects and a couple portraits of your siblings. The soft glow of moonlight beamed into the room, illuminating the thin layer of dust on each surface, appropriate for the lack of usage in the past couple months. You had been so occupied with Gale’s condition that you hadn’t had the chance to even think about painting. The more you examined your surroundings, bittersweet nostalgia festered in your gut, tugging you towards your abandoned easel.

A quick paint wouldn’t do any harm, you thought to yourself, placing a fresh canvas on the platform and settling into the stool. You stared at the large white cloth for a couple minutes, considering your subjects. There was still life of course, but you had painted pretty much everything in the room already. Well, everything except the old chessboard. For as long as you remember, that chessboard had never moved from the small table in the corner. Sebastian had spent hours in your youth attempting to teach you the most popular openings, despite your inability to remember which way the ‘horse’ piece moved. A subject for another time, you decided, looking for something else.

A faint glow of purple caught your eye through the window. Looking closer, you spotted a small patch of violets in the garden, accompanied by various other colorful flowers.That’s right, Euphemia loved floriography and had taken an interest in gardening several years ago. Before your father’s death, she had several flora related projects. One of which being an attempt at a rainbow garden with ombre flowers packed neatly in the dirt.

Instinctively, you felt your hand rise, placing quick strokes along the canvas and blocking out the basic shapes of the garden. Once you were satisfied with the sketch, you fished around for your palette and paints, blowing off the dust and flicking away dried pieces stuck to the tubes. It didn’t take long for you to fall into a rhythm, painting like you had years ago. Maybe it was the way your mind quietly wandered, or the soft scratch of bristles on canvas, but you found yourself drifting off as you worked. Your movements slowed until finally, you let your head rest in your arms beside the abandoned paint palette.

The next thing you knew, a warm palm gently nudged you awake. The moonlight from before had been replaced with bright morning sunbeams that bore down onto you and your painting as you awoke.

“A bit of an odd place to sleep, but whatever suits your fancy,” a warm voice resounded in your ear, startling away your grogginess.

You jolted awake to see Gale observing your unfinished painting, looking it over.

“Oh, good morning.” You yawned, stretching your aching back.

Gale’s attention turned back to you, standing quietly off to the side.

Gale?

Standing?

Snapping upright in your stool you stared at him, standing right in front of you as if perfectly fine. “What are you doing up?” You rushed to your feet, placing a hand underneath his arm and hustling him into the chair beside the old chessboard.

“There’s no need for this,” he complained, but sat anyway despite his protests.

Surely it hadn’t healed that fast?

You hesitantly nudged the bandage covering his stitches, waiting for a response. To your surprise, he made no move to flinch or push you away.

“Nothing?”

He shrugged in reply.

“How bizarre..” you pondered out loud. What could have possibly quickened the process so much? You certainly weren’t that good at medicine.

If Gale was surprised, he didn’t show it. In fact, he looked quite bored of the topic, as if his good health was old news. Instead, his focus turned to the dusty chess board.

“Do you play?” he asked, instinctively setting up the board.

It had certainly been a while. You barely remembered what the pieces did. You knew the pawn and King can one square per turn, but that’s about where your memory left off.

“Of course I play,” you confidently countered, scooting your chair to sit across from him. “Quite masterfully, actually.”

Gale’s brows rose in disbelief. “”Really now? Well, I’ll be sure to perform at my highest.”

In a matter of about four turns, he had your King completely pinned in checkmate. From across the table, you glowered at the board.

“Yes, quite masterfully,” he chuckled, amused at your bewildered expression.

“These things are useless.” You toyed with the pawn between your fingers, tossing it back onto the board where it rolled miserably in a circle before coming to a pitiful stop. “What even is this?” You picked up a strange paintbrush-looking piece.

Gale stifled a laugh, watching you scowl at the small piece of wood like it killed your entire family. “That would be a bishop,” he spoke as he gently took it from you. Placing it on the board, he slid the piece diagonally across the squares.

“As far as it wants?”

“As far as it wants.”

You hummed, absently watching as he deftly reset the board. Gale seemed brighter today. Gone was his sickly hue, replaced with a much warmer liveliness.

He made two moves, starting by moving one of his pawns two spaces forward, then pushing out his bishop several paces diagonally.

“This is an opening. Bishop’s opening, if you want to get technical,” he told you, gesturing to the board. “It’s a specific series of moves to set up for a specific strategy.”

You stared as he deftly played against himself, taking pieces back and forth until he had won. And well, lost.

There was a sense of expertise in the way he moved around the board, as if years had been spent practicing. You found yourself wondering if he taught himself everything he knew, or if it was learned from someone else. Either way it was certainly impressive.

“So you’re an egghead?” 

Gale shuddered dramatically, clutching his heart. “Harsh words! I’ll have you know, I prefer ‘well-read.’”

Alright, sure. You admit he was charismatic. The way he looked at you through eyes creased by a smile never failed to elicit a strange uplifted atmosphere. You couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter than air whenever he was around.

“My brother used to be really interested in chess,” you started. The ambience of warm sunlight and good company left you relaxed enough to begin rambling about whatever came to mind. “He tried to teach me but I didn’t get it at all so he gave up and tried to teach Euphemia, but that didn’t work out cause she felt bad about ‘getting her soldiers killed’ so he gave up again.”

You told him about your attachment to the knight piece, which you only recently learned was actually called a ‘knight’ and not a ‘horse’ like you originally thought.

On the subject of horses, you had one as a stuffed animal, actually. Bought from a local vendor and gifted to you by Sebastian for your tenth birthday. He had suggested horse-like names, like Chestnut, or Horace. But in childlike fashion, you settled on the name ‘Horse.’

“How creative,” Gale spoke, snapping you back into reality.

You stared at him puzzled for several seconds until coming to the mortifiying realization that you had bombarded him with tales of your childhood stuffed animal.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he grinned, a glint of mirth in his eyes.

The room felt significantly warmer than before, making you squirm in your seat. “You should’ve said something sooner.”

Gale chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, almost too earnestly to be genuine. “On the contrary, I’m a bit disappointed that I said anything at all. You showed no signs of stopping.”

“Please, don’t remind me.”

He waved you off, leaning back in his seat. “You listened to my chess talk. It’s only fair.”

You pursed your lips, still a bit mortified. “It’s your turn in that case. Drone on.”

“Drone?” He dramatically gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m offended, I was under the impression you were interested. Is chess not riveting to you?”

“What can I say? As a chess master, I need something more mentally stimulating.”

Something glinted behind Gale’s eyes as you spoke, breathing slowly out his nose as he watched you. As he leaned forward his earring swung lightly, catching your attention. You hadn’t noticed the little metal piece before. Circular in shape but adorned with a small purple gemstone, shining brighter than the average jewel. It seemed far more ostentatious than jewelry you expected Gale to wear. Somehow, the gaudy earring never seemed to catch your attention over the man who bore it.

“Something more stimulating?” He repeated, thoughtfully. “What do you know about mages?”

The sudden change in topic startled you back into attention. Mages were certainly uncommon, only few known people being able to wield such a power. Some thought that mages were too dangerous to live amongst the Ton. Others thought mages were nothing more than an old wives tale until a high ranking noble had revealed their innate abilities, but you had been busy in your painting phase while it happened. You hardly remembered how it ended. You silently chided yourself for not paying more attention to the happenings of the Ton. Perhaps Euphemia would remember. You made a mental note to ask her eventually.

Between nonbelievers and 

“I know they exist,” you started, raking your brain for any helpful bits of information. “I know they are quite rare. I’ve never met one if that’s what you were asking.”

Gale inhaled shortly, shoulders rigid and tense. He fidgeted with the fabric of his shirt, gently rolling it between his fingers. “And if you met one, what would you think of them?”

“Did I know them prior to knowing they were a mage?” You asked, unsure of where he was headed.

He nodded.

With hesitation, you continued. “Then they would still be the same person, would they not? I don’t think it would change my impression of them.”

Gale exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, shoulders easing slightly as he relaxed back into his chair. “Yes, I agree,” he replied, letting his hand return to the tabletop and releasing the fabric he was toying with. “Are you busy tonight?”

Your mind spun in confusion at another quick change in topic. “I believe so? Why do you ask all this?”

He waved you off, earring twinkling as he abruptly stood from the table. The air felt lighter than before and Gale now wore a bright smile, eagerly putting the chair back in its place. “I’d like to see you back here tonight after dinner. I have something to show you that I think you’d like.”

Feeling your cheeks redden, you sputtered. Meeting you late at night? Has he always been so forward? “But we aren’t even courting yet.”

Gale paused in shock as he failed to stop his smile from growing, his own ears beginning to bloom with pink. “Courting?” He repeated, voice soft and honeyed, the world pleasantly rolling off his tongue.

The feelings of mortification rushed back to you and all of a sudden you felt transparent in front of him. “I have greatly misunderstood, haven’t I?”

Blinking, he seemed to startle himself back into reality, clearing his throat. “My apologies, I hadn’t intended to imply… Not that I wouldn’t- I mean, only if you wanted- I just-” Gale stuttered, nervously cutting himself off and refusing to meet your gaze.

“I’ll be there.”

Gale’s  eyes caught yours and he took a deep breath. “I promise I’ll make it worth your time.” He gave you one last look before withdrawing from the room, leaving you alone as the door swung closed.

taglist:

@vhaldren

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

omg I want to know, how were the Napoleon Queer Wars of 2014 like?? 😬

oh lord lol

It's been almost ten years and I still get weird YIKES reaction in my skin when I think about it, or when people in the current Napoleonic corner act a bit like the people from back then. Which is a me issue, and not anyone else's problem. But it is why I don't really engage with anyone from the Napoleonic side of tumblr anymore - too many bad memories and bad taste in my mouth.

Essentially, someone posted the (in)famous Cronin quote re: Napoleon telling Coulaincourt about the Feelings He Gets When Looking At Someone Handsome Friend Shaped. They speculated about queer* implications of this.

--

*necessary disclaimer about modern concepts of sexuality not being applicable to the past yadda yadda yadda. I'm using short hand here, folks. No one needs to jump down my throat.

--

A bunch of the Very Serious History Blogs(tm) came down hard on them being like "you're a fool, absolutely not, Napoleon was Straight(tm)". Someone else replied being like "Well what about That Letter from N to Josie concerning a Certain Tsar of Russia?"

I forget how That Letter was explained away, but it was.

Some name calling nonsense and really aggresive replies where bandied back and forth. People were passive aggresive and mean. People ignored each other then wrote vagueing posts about it. The usual damned foolishness you would expect.

Then someone else referenced that one book whose whole thesis is basically Napoleon was Probably Bi. The book, I will say, isn't great. I'd never recommend it. But it was floating around in the 2014/15 world of Napoleonic Tumblr.

And oh man was the person who suggested it torn to shreds. Eviscerated. It was like watching a train wreck and the by standers decided to lock the doors of the train and not let the passengers off while everything burned.

There were weird spin-off dramas from this nonsense where people got into whether or not being interested in Napoleon made you a war crime sympathizer. (Some things never change on this webbed site.) Messy, messy. Also, utterly dumb.

Anyway - it ended up weirdly boiling down to two sides: Are You A Serious Historian/Take History Seriously(tm) Therefore Anti-Napoleon Possibly Being Something Like Queer Even If Never Acted On versus People Having Fun(tm) on the Internet Who Now Have Their Backs Up and Are Responding Perhaps Unwisely.

There was a third party, which I was part of at that time** (no longer, since I left academia), which was the "We Do Real History As A Day Job, Because We Are In Academia, but Lol Like Hell Would I Think to do Serious History on the Blue Hell Site. I'm Present for Shits and Giggles and Idle Speculation and Chats. Nothing Here is Serious. Everyone Needs To Calm Down and Take Themselves Way Less Seriously." We were a small contingent, to say the least.

--

**this is not to say I didn't walk away with egg on my face. Because I did. My comportment wasn't great and it's something I've been trying to be better about ever since.

It's not a time I think anyone save like four Napoleonic-interested blogs can look back on without blame.

--

But yeah - it was a real bad time on here. People were called names and cruel, cruel messages were sent to various and sundry by various and sundry. People deactivated over it. Friendships were literally torched because of it. There was a lot of issues with: "What Is Tone When Jumping On Someone's Post?? We don't know how to gauge it! Are you being mean? Are you being helpful? Who knows!! But you sounded aggresive in your add on and so I had better respond aggressively as well."

All because some people took themselves too seriously and because other people were stupidly mean about something dumb.

If I sometimes come in really strong with five million disclaimers in my napoleon asks/responses, even just the silly, purely speculative ones that no one sensible expects Real Serious History to result from - questions that clearly fall into the camp of shit a friend would ask you at the bar after four pints - things like: "was he queer? do you think he had add/adhd? what do you speculate were mental health issues he may have had?" etc. it's because of this year/year-and-a-half shit show. (And my disclaimers don't always serve their purpose because this is, after all, the Piss on the Poor website and people lack attention to detail when reading. [That said, I'm just as guilty of it as well, so can't point too many fingers.])

anyway, the long and short is that MAN people were very anti-any idea that there might have been an iota of what we would term queerness in Napoleon. And MAN no one can be normal on this site about anything so of course there was unnecessary drama and hurt feelings and bitterness.

May we never repeat this stupid time.

[jcbbby]

oooooh buddy. yikes yikes yikes. okay, this is my first just straight up smut fic. this is NOT my usual thing at all, so like…this may be absolute garbage??? I’m sorry in advance lmaoooo. this is also like, SO LONG I feel like, because I just literally don’t know how to get the fuck to the point and I just keep writing? lol side note, this is for those who have ever needed to get railed in a sun dress. ;)

If you’re not comfortable with this type of fic, please don’t read! I still love you either way! <3

Warnings: 18+ only MINORS LOOK AWAY, rpf but in an alternate universe, age gap (reader is like 19, Jamie is 34), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not try at home, kids), oral (female receiving), obvious major power dynamic issue lol, kinda a slow burn? Idk what I’m doing

*************************************************************

It was a warm and humid late May Friday afternoon. You walked through the courtyard, tossing your hair up into a loose bun to get it off your neck in this heat. You dressed for the temperature, wearing a short yellow sun dress with spaghetti straps, complete with strappy sandals showing off your pedicured toes. You were ready for your week-long stay in the Florida Keys, a cliché but nevertheless exciting college summer vacation. Your first year of college was ending, and the only thing that stood in your way of you and your friends’ trip was your final exam for Professor Bower’s class.

Truth be told, you were a little disappointed to be finishing his class, even though it was just a standard required English literature course. You often found yourself absentmindedly staring up at him as he sat on the edge of his desk, a pen tucked with soft blonde locks behind his ear, leading a group discussion on the assigned reading. His high cheek bones, chiseled jaw, pale blue eyes, the wrinkles that would form in the corner of his eyes as he smiled at wonderfully thought-out opinions and analyses from the students, his charming British accent.

There was that one time he leaned in close at your desk to look over your work, feeling the warmth of his body radiate against you, his cologne lingering for a few moments after walking away. How he said your name when calling on you to answer a question. How you would drift off into a daydream wondering how your name would sound leaving his lips in a much more intimate setting… You spent the whole semester in his class feeling a yearning deep in your core. You were going to milk today’s time in his classroom as long as you could. Perhaps you had also worn the outfit you had chosen for more than just the heat wave, hoping to catch his attention just once before parting ways.

The campus was quieter than usual, with many students having already finished their exams and left for the summer. You had some time before your exam and decided to stop by the café on campus for a coffee and last minute study session. After being handed your drink, you went to take a seat on one of the couches and took out your notebook, scanning over the pages of notes.

“Ah, a little cramming session?” A familiar voice said in front of you.

You looked up from being buried in the pages to see him, Professor Bower. He was dressed much more casual than usual. In a pair of black jeans with a white t-shirt and a black blazer over it.

You smiled. “Oh…well, you know. Couldn’t hurt, right?” He looked incredible; you loved this more laid back look on him. Not that he didn’t look great in a tie as well. “You look like you’re ready for summer vacation.”

He looked down at his outfit and back up to you with a chuckle. “Yeah, I figured I’d tone it down for this last day, maybe help everyone relax for the exam… you look like you’re in summer vacation mode as well. You look…very nice.” He looked you up and down, lingering a little longer than you expected somewhere below your eyeline.

You blushed and felt butterflies in your abdomen. “Oh um…thank you. I-I’m heading south after this.” You cursed yourself in your head for saying it like an innuendo.

“You don’t say, how fun.” He grinned. “Well, I better go get everything printed. I’ll see you in class. Good luck on the exam, Y/N.”

You nodded with a meek smile as he turned and headed off in the other direction. All you could think about were his eyes on you, how you would have loved to see what his hands would have done, and how tightly your thighs were squeezing together.

****

The classroom was dead silent during the exam, except for the scribbling of pens and pencils across pages. Jamie was sitting at his desk at the front of the room, glancing over his macbook every so often at the room. You found it hard to focus after your encounter earlier, looking up frequently to gaze at him. On a few occasions, he caught you, your eyes meeting for a brief second before you frantically and embarrassingly looked back down at the exam. He would smirk to himself as you felt your cheeks grow hot. You’re blowing it, you thought to yourself.

One by one, each of your classmates brought their finished exams up to the front, with Jamie quietly telling each of them to have a good summer.

“30 minutes left, guys.” He announced to the few of you remaining.

He looked directly at you, holding your gaze for what felt like an eternity before going back to his work on his laptop. You looked back down at your exam, now furiously writing, worried that you wouldn’t finish because of your distracted mind. Not only were you embarrassing yourself in front of the hot professor, but you would also fail his class. Before you knew it, it was just you and Jamie left in the classroom. You glanced to the clock, swallowing hard.

“Time’s up, love.” He said from his desk.

You sighed, gathering your belongings and making your way to the front. You handed your packet to him. “I uh…I didn’t finish. I’m sorry…”

Jamie tutted as he reached for the papers. “Even with that last minute study session?”

“I guess I was…a little distracted…” You shifted on your feet.

“Distracted?” Jamie leaned back in his chair. “Anything you’d want to talk about?” The look in his eyes felt ravenous, like they were reeling you in as prey.

“I don’t know…” You started as he stood up and began walking around to the front of the desk. You felt your breathing get heavier and a sudden wave of confidence washed over you. “I-I uh…kept thinking about how good you look in that blazer…”

Jamie let out a soft chuckle as he came to sit on the front of his desk like usual. “Is that so?”

You turned slightly to face him. “And…how good you’ve looked all semester...how I’ve been hoping you’d notice me…” Your entire body was electrified, being this close to him, desperately wanting his hands on you.

Jamie smirked, taking your arm and guiding you in between his slightly spread legs. Your breath hitched. His hands rested at your hips, sending aching pulses straight to your pussy.

“Darling, I’ve noticed. You always wearing those short skirts, twirling your pen in your mouth in class, not even knowing you’re driving me wild…but we both know I can’t get involved like that with a student…as much as I want to…” His voice was low, you felt his hands start to caress your hips and move towards your ass.

“But I’m technically not your student anymore…the exam is over, I’m done with your class.” You put your hands on his chest, leaning into him, feeling his chest rise and fall with more force. You craned your neck up at him.

He snorted a laugh. “You know I meant as a university student here in general…fuck, you look so good in this dress though.” His hand now resides firmly on your ass.

You began tracing circles with your finger on his chest, looking up at him with your best doe eyes. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell…” You whispered, pressing yourself into him, feeling him harden beneath you.

Jamie groaned quietly with a slight chuckle. “Oh, you’re gonna be the death of me....fuck it.”

He hungrily pressed his lips into yours, both of you immediately softly moaning into the other’s mouth, overwhelmed with want. You move your hands from his chest, wrapping them around his neck. His tongue greedily asked for entrance at your lips, which you wasted no time allowing it in, twirling yours with his. A semester’s worth of desire was erupting inside you, finally coming to fruition.

As you both clumsily tried to get more of each other’s mouths, Jamie’s hands planted firmly on the underside of your thighs, lifting you up against him. Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he spun around, sitting you down on his desk, never once breaking contact. He slid the blazer off over his shoulders, tossing it on to his chair behind the desk. You didn’t know he had tattoos. He had always worn blazers or long sleeve button ups. It was a welcomed surprise, you always had a weak spot for tattoos.

You pulled back from him, allowing you both to catch your breath. “You wanna fuck me right here on your desk?” You asked playfully.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you on this desk from day one.” He smirked, placing another kiss on your cheek before turning away.

He slipped over to the door, twisting the lock with a click. You were already so wet with anticipation, but you were still relatively new to sex, and suddenly felt a pang of apprehension creep in. You weren’t a virgin, but you weren’t exactly experienced. Aside from a less than notable prom night at a motel, you hadn’t seen much action. But this was a man, a probably very experienced man, and you were worried about impressing him.

Turning back from the door, he paused just for a moment, taking note of your changed body language. “Hey, you okay? You know, we can stop here if you want.” He walked back to you, standing between your legs, placing a hand on your outer thigh.

“No, no I’m fine. I want this. I want you…I just…I’ve only had sex once.” You looked away, embarrassed.

Jamie chuckled. “Oh, darling…” He cooed as he brought his hand to your cheek. “You can trust me. I can go as easy as you want.” His gentle care turned you on even more.

You brought your hand to his on your cheek and pulled it down, pressing it to your aching heat between your thighs, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “What if…I don’t want you to go easy.” You whispered. “How about you teach me something new, professor…”

His eyes went from where you placed his hand, and back up to your eyes. “Shit…you’re so wet.” He breathed; you felt his fingers lightly moving against your clothed cunt. “You sure you want this?”

“Mhm...god, I want you.” You nodded, staring at his lips, hoping his fingers would find their way under the barrier separating them from where you needed them.

Jamie crashed his lips into yours, as you clamored your hands over his shoulders and arms, hoping to pull him closer. His hand remained between your legs, teasing you with pressure that just wasn’t enough. You brought one hand down to his emerging bulge, caressing him through his jeans. A soft moan came from his throat as he rocked his hips slightly, before pulling away from you and taking your hand off of him. You looked confused.

“No, no. Your hands stay above both our waists, got it? Now, lie back.” He smirked.

You did as he said, slowly lowering yourself back on to the desk, keeping eye contact with Jamie. He remained between your legs, a hand on either thigh. He slowly pushed his hands up toward your hips, bringing the bottom hem of your dress up with them, exposing your light blue panties that were splotched with your excitement. He smiled to himself seeing how turned on you were for him. He glanced up at you, just scanning one more time for any sense of hesitation, before hooking his fingers around the band of them, and sliding them down your legs.

He tucked them into his back pocket, bending over you, meeting your lips again. He nipped at your bottom lip, as he reached back down, tracing a finger lightly over your slit. Your hips bucked upward, begging for more stimulation. Jamie smirked against your lips as he took his finger to your clit and began tracing tight circles. He moved his lips from yours down to your neck, biting and suckling, no doubt leaving marks that would take a few days to fade. You squirmed under his touch, aching for even more.

“Professor Bower…” you moaned.

“Call me Jamie, love.” He said against your neck.

“Jaaamiee…” You moaned again.

“Fuck, I love the sound of that.” He groaned, removing his finger from your bundle of nerves, a whimper leaving your mouth at the loss of contact.

He pushed you slightly backward, giving him the right angle now to place a delicate kiss on your thigh. He smirked up at you briefly before then moving planting his mouth on to your eager cunt. His tongue worked euphoric circles on your clit, not wasting any time also plunging a finger inside you. You gasped, grinding your hips down into his face, tensing yourself, your hands automatically tangling themselves up in his hair. Suddenly, he stopped.

“Hey. What did I say? Hands above the waist, or I won’t touch you anymore.” He said sharply.

“But…it feels so good…I can’t.” You say, catching your breath.

“Well then I guess we’re done here.” He started to stand up.

“No! Please…please keep touching me. I’ll be good.” You bit your lip.

Jamie smiled devilishly as he sank back down to his position. “That’s my good girl.”

He returned to working on you with his tongue, pumping in and out with his finger. You tried to stifle your increasing moans, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves. Jamie moaned into your pulsating heat, causing vibration, and sending shockwaves through your core. You gripped the edges of the desk, trying to follow Jamie’s rule, writhing under him. You bucked your hips up as he slipped in a second finger, pumping rhythmically as he swirled his tongue.

“Shit…shit I-..” You breathed.

“You’re doing so well, baby. That’s it. I’ve got you.” Jamie pressed a hand to your lower abdomen, increasing the growing pressure in your belly.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly as you squirmed, feeling your release building. He smiled against you at this innocent and intimate gesture, intertwining his fingers with yours, still suckling your sensitive bud. He curled his fingers upward inside you in a beckoning motion.

“Jamie, fuck, I-…I’m gonna…”

"Yes, love. Go on, cum for me. Cum just for me." Jamie kissed and nibbled on your inner thigh.

You felt your orgasm crash over you. Your legs quivered as your head fell back in ecstasy. He caressed your hand in his with his thumb as he kept rubbing your clit with his other, helping you ride out your high. He came back up to your lips as you came down in a haze, tasting yourself as he kissed you.

“You still with me, love?” He asked chuckling, pulling you to sit upward again.

“Yeah…no one’s ever gone down on me before. You’ve set the bar really high, though.” You panted, buzzing all over.

“Good.” He smirked, leaning into kiss you again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed him. All of him. Right then. You brought your hands up to his belt, eagerly undoing it as he smiled against your lips. He assisted in removing the belt and pushing his jeans down, his cock springing out over the band of his boxers as he pulled them down. He spit into his hand and wrapped around his cock, stroking himself a few times as he stared at you, taking you all in with his eyes before he had his way.

"I need you...I need you right now, Jamie. Please." The words poured out of your mouth, dripping in lust.

Jamie chuckled. "So desperate for me...you're so good for me."

He lined himself up with your waiting cunt, still seated on the edge of the desk. Slowly, he pushed himself in. Your breath hitching as his width stretched your walls, and he let out a moan as he bottomed out. He kissed and bit at your lips as he paused a moment for you to adjust to him, before starting an even and pace of slow, deep thrusting.

“God, I’ve thought of this while I’ve fucked my hand so many times…shit. You feel so good around me, baby.” He said in a gruff voice before burying his face into your neck, his teeth looking to leave more bruises.

“Me too.” You whispered. “Mmm, fuck me, Jamie.”

“Mmm, say that again, love. Say my fucking name.” He groaned, thrusting deeper.

“Mmmm, oh god, please fuck me, Jamie.” You moaned into his ear, your hands sliding through his hair, gripping his blonde hair tight as your eyes closed.

In a swift motion, Jamie pushed you down on your back again, pulling your legs up into his arms. His pace quickened, thrusting hard and fast into you from this angle. With your legs open and held up like this, he was hitting exactly where you needed it. He was fucking you like he wanted you to never forget it, and you knew you never would; you could never after this.

“You’re my fucking girl.” He grunted. “Say it.” He delivered a hard smack to the side of your ass cheek, with your legs still on either side of him. You let out a yelp as his large hand made contact with your soft skin.

“I’m your girl.” You panted. “I’m your girl, Jamie.”

He continued pounding into you. Both of you had long since given up trying to stifle yourselves. You reached down to your clit, circling it with your fingers, looking Jamie directly in the eye. He smiled wickedly with a chuckle as he watched you touch yourself while he fucked you. You felt him twitch inside you, being driven wild at the sight before him.

“Fuck, baby...that’s so sexy…I don’t think I can last much longer.” He gripped your thighs tight in his hands. “Where do you want it?” He asked.

“Inside.” You moaned. “I have an IUD. I want to feel you cum in me.” You arched your back, feeling a second high approaching.

“Okay. Fuuuck. I-…I’m-“

He reached his released, throwing his head back with a string of expletives. You felt his warm, thick seed spill into you, sending you over the edge at the sensation. You clenched around his cock, your body quivering with pleasure. As you both came down from the euphoria, Jamie’s pumping stopped and he stayed still, not yet pulling out of you. He let your legs fall and pulled you back up towards him, his hand sliding up into your hair, while his other hand rested on the small of your back. He placed a delicate kiss on your lips, pulling back as your sweaty foreheads rested together while you both caught your breath.

“Well, I think you passed the exam.” Jamie chuckled.

You laughed. “I’ve always been a bit of a teacher’s pet, hm?”

He slowly pulled out of you, reaching over to a roll of paper towels kept near the whiteboard to help with cleanup of the mess you had both made of yourselves and the desk.

“So… I’m teaching a poetry class next semester.” Jamie began as you finished straightening yourselves and the room up. “If you’re interested in any further extracurricular activities...” He winked.

“You know, I just might switch to being an English major. I suddenly really love literature classes.”

[megamindsecretlair]

i love your writing ml! i be reading yo’ shii 25/8 you my go to page😭 any writing tips? your writing style and skills fascinate and inspire me. how do you write in so much depth and detail without rushing or feeling like you rushed your work? you write characters so well and i wanna know how?😩 i feel like my writing isn’t bad but it’s not as deep as i want it y’know like i wanna paint a vivid picture of the character i’m writing. i want my readers to get a good look inside the characters that you don’t get on screen. and i get that vibe from your writing😮‍💨 teach me your ways! 😩🤲🏽

PLEASE 😭 Don't make me cry lmfaooo. Thank you so much for saying this 🥹🥹

I don't even know where to begin, yikes. I am by no means an expert and if you ever have questions, you can always hit me up 😗

I guess I never thought of the technical side of my process that much 🧐 I still feel like I rush in some areas or linger too long in other areas, everyone experiences that! It's normal, I promise 🖤

The fic wants what it wants lmfao. Sometimes it feels like I need more set up, sometimes it feels like it doesn't. You gotta listen to your muse and see what it needs and then juss get out the way lol. Theres times I feel like I want a shorter fic but then ends up being 10k 🫠 or times where I think it'll be longer but then I realize I don't need extra information.

Set the scene in your head and figure out where the characters are, what they're doing, or WHY they're doing it. It's okay to withhold info from the reader because your characters are expressing their feelings without the need to say it. A nervous character will look away, stutter, or fumble with words when the spotlight is on them whereas a stoic character might juss flex their jaw or clench their fists and keep their face neutral.

Going in depth is more about the characters emotions. Are they the type to shout their love from the rooftops? Or the type to grab someone's favorite coffee because they wanted to show their love in a more subtle way? After describing whatever situation they're in, think about how they're feeling, their relationship to whoever they're speaking to, or their relationship to their surroundings. An introverted person is gonna have a different reaction to a large crowd than an extroverted person.

If you understand your character inside and out, you may find it flows better when writing them. You don't have to have a 100pg doc on your character's eye color or favorite cereal, but think about how they're would react to things.

How would an extrovert react to waiting in line for 20mins? Versus an introvert? Versus a child? They'll all react differently.

This post could end up being extremely long if I truly went down the rabbit hole 🫠 feel free to hit me up or if anyone's interested, I could do a longer post about my process 😗

Thank you so much for asking me. You've no idea how much this made my day. 😭😭😭😭😭