#like they didn't even get the good parts right

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

Final thoughts, a.k.a. if you ask Dick to tell you about Tim, you will be there all day and he will never once mention any of the times he saved Tim's life because they will genuinely not occur to him

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

#i enjoyed thinking about this so much i wrote a novel with All My Thoughts sorry sdfsdfs #tim drake #dick grayson #somewhat tangential but as i was writing this i was thinking about zahri's post #about how different types of stories offer different kinds of emotional payoffs #and i think for me for dick and tim the main two payoffs are: #1) someone who sees & understands your grief for deaths that will never get fixed or get better #and who will face your ghosts with you EVEN WHEN you're also mad at each other #2) someone who you look at and you see all the ways that you suck & he's better & you're a loser who's failed him etc etc #but it turns out that you're wrong. that you're good enough. not that none of the failures were real or that they were all in your head #but it turns out that it's okay that you didn't always immediately do or feel the right thing #and it's okay that you weren't perfect. you can fuck up six thousand ways & everything you did right will still matter #not because of making excuses or allowances or somebody pityingly trying to make you feel better #but because in the end the things you did right are just Genuinely More Valuable than anything you did wrong #all the times you tried & everything that you tried to give - everything you think wasn't good enough - it was. #IN OTHER WORDS they are both convinced they're not good enough & they are both wrong <3 #anyway dick and tim are both INCREDIBLY SIMILAR and also CONSTANTLY misreading each other and i love that for them #and like. they will sometimes totally misread each other & then never figure out the part that they misunderstood #but then they manage to keep going anyway. we love each other on purpose <333 #ask tag #dick&tim

[gabgabwrites]

LOVE AND ACES | Art Donaldson

Summary ⇝ Art is mesmerised by your skill, and when you and Tashi agree to spend time with him and Patrick at their room, things get heated, to the point where he’s utterly infatuated by you.

Warnings ⇝ mentions of slight tashi x reader x patrick, swearing, drinking, smoking, kissing, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f), handjob, early orgasm, orgasm in clothing, cum eating, mentions of foursome, fingering, hair pulling, praise—ART IS A SCHLUT FOR PRAISES.

note: there will be a somewhat part 2 in the future

"No, don't even worry about it girl, you beat me fair and square," Tashi Duncan said to you, tight lipped smile. You had recently qualified for the finals of the your schools tennis tournament.  You remember how the ball managed to skim her racquet making you the winner. You knew she was happy for you but you also knew how important tennis is to her.

"I know how much this meant to you though," You sigh. The two of you were currently in her dorm room, sitting crossed legged and facing each other.

Tashi let out a soft exhale before meeting your gaze, the pain evident across her face. She pushed a smile onto her features, "Yeah... It did," she began, her words slow as if choosing each one with care. "But hey," Tashi reached out, gently grabbing your hand. "I'm happy you won," she said genuinely.

"Thank you, Tash," You grab her slender hand ad give it a gentle squeeze before letting it fall back to its place.

"I mean it," she said, her words soft as she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The two of you had spent countless hours practicing together, supporting each other through both wins and losses.

"Yeah, welp I better go and get rest. Game is tomorrow," You pat your lap, swinging your legs to your side to stand up from her bed.

Tashi watched as you got up from the bed, her eyes studying you closely. There was a hint of disappointment in her expression, but it vanished quickly as she smiled. "Alright, sleep tight," she said, her voice neutral.

"You too, and also, you're coming to watch, right?"

Tashi chuckled, her expression lightening, "Of course I am, wouldn't miss it for the world," she assured you, a smile forming on her face. "You better bring your A game," she teased, a small smirk on her face. Her words were light, but you could tell there was still a hint of upset lingering in her eyes.

"You got it boss," You look at her once more before leaving her dorm. You gently shut the door behind you before walking down the passage to your room.

You opened the door, immediately going to your bed and flopping on it. You didn't bother changing from your hoodie and cotton shorts before drifting to sleep.

The sun intruded your curtains before anything else did. You stirred from your sleep before hazily getting up. You brushed your teeth and hair, got dressed in your tennis uniform, grabbed everything you needed before making your way down to the tennis court.

No matter how well you did, you always got nervous. Tashi made sure to tell you that every time you played a match. You loved the girl but sometimes all she did was point out flaws that perhaps were not of your interest.

The hairband in your hair suddenly felt too tight, and your shoelaces were tied too tightly, the racquet in its sling felt too heavy on your arm and your palms too sweaty.

It wasn't like this was your first time ever playing, yet it felt like it was. You didn't know what you were more scared of. Losing and not qualifying for the cup, or disappointing Tashi.

Tashi arrived early, of course she did, finding a good seat to watch the match from.

The grandstands filled with people, Tashi could feel her heart beating faster, her fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh. She had already gone over every possible outcome in her head; you break a bone or twist an ankle; you miss one too many balls; or worse.

"I cannot believe it, dude. I mean, I for sure thought it would be Tashi Duncan playing, but not her!" Tashi overhears some loud voice mention her and your names, she has the urge to turn to look but ignores it. "She's in another league, she's beautiful!"

"And now entering the court, the girls singles world number 1 and winner of the Junior French Open..." The commentator says your name and majority of the crowd blister in cheers.

Tashi sees the way you smile too big to hide your nerves as you step onto the court, waving at the crowd, eyes immediately looking for her. When you do make eye contact, she sees your shoulders relax a little.

Art has heard Patrick pine and want Tashi, but he's heard him rant and rave about you, last night he would not shut up about how you beat Tashi by the skin of your teeth.

You took a sip from your bottle as you set it down on the floor next to the chair, slinging your racquet off and unzipping it.

You stuck out a leg and did last minute stretching, allowing for your muscles to ease and thankfully, your nerves dissipating.

Then the match began and you were all over the court. Your shots were precise, your movement nimble, and your concentration unwavering. Your Russian opponent, Irina Petrovska , couldn't quite keep up, struggling to return each of your powerful serves and shots.

Shared grunts emitted from the both of you, your shoes squeezing against the tar. Sweat dribbling down your temples.

Art and Patrick sat watching, their jaws practically on the floor. The ease in which you were demolishing Petrovska was incredible. They tried to come up with words to describe your performance but found themselves at a loss.

One second you were in the farthest corner on the baseline and the next, soaring through the air as the ball slammed from your racquet, you positioned a meter above the service line.

Tashi sat there, watching every move you made on the court with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Your game was flawless and it was clear that you were dominating the match.

Minutes ticked by, a short interlude and then it continued. Everyone was on the edge of their seat. With one last toss up of the ball, you won an ace, and victory was yours.

Pride swelled in your chest as you were looking at Tashi who gave you a smile and clapped. You did it, securing another win in your name. Petrovska has an absolute meltdown, cursing at herself in Russian, smashing her racquet to the ground.

Tashi made sure you had a small party to celebrate your win. Your family was there, the people who watched the game, other friends and your fans. It was nighttime, supposed to be cold but the twinkling fairy lights managed to emit the tiniest bit of warmth, the alcohol in your system definitely helped as you and Tashi danced to Nelly.

You tap Tashi on the shoulder. "I'm thirsty, come with me?" You asked, she simply nodded as she followed you to the table, both of you grabbing your drinks.

"Come, let's sit down over there," She points to some loungers off by a wall where it's more quiet. "Just want to get away from all the busy."

You follow suit before plonking yourself on the one to the left. "Ugh, my feet hurt," You complain, Tashi nodding next to you. You let your eyes momentarily flutter closed before voices interrupt.

"I'm Patrick Zweig—."

"Art Donaldson."

You open your eyes to see two males dressed in jeans and pale coloured button ups. One has curly black hair and the other, slightly longer blonde hair. Both of their eyes flitting between you and Tashi.

Tashi is the first to speak. "I know who you are, you're fire and ice, right?"

You let out a giggle through your nose, drawing both their attentions. The blonde one flushed as pink as his shirt while the one with the black hair grinned. "Hm, so which ones which?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The darker haired one winked.

"You were fucking incredible today," The other male spoke, looking straight at you. "I mean, it wasn't even tennis, it was something entirely different."

"Thank you," You give him a smile which he mirrored.

"I felt bad for Ilina."

"Don't be, she's a sore loser," You scoffed, taking a sip from your drink.

"And a racist bitch, she's constantly say bad things under her breath in Russian at half time," Tashi said. "Hey, you're going to Stanford, right?" Tashi asked the blonde who looked slightly surprised at her question.

"Uh yeah, how'd you know that?" He questioned.

"I just accepted their offer and they mentioned you," Tashi replied.

"You're not going pro? You're going to a college?" The one with the dark hair asked.

"Yeah, we both are," Tashi jabbed a thumb in your direction and you nodded.

"Yup, I mean I still wanna keep up my education and not flunk only to be sleeping in my car after school," you chuckled.

"Girls! Come to the trophy stand, I want to take pics of the both of you!" Your mother ushered with a big smile, holding up her well expired phone. "And the photographers want some of my baby as well!"

"Right, coming mom!" You yell, "C'mon," you motion for Tashi to follow.

"Let's go," She turns to the two boys. "Gotta go..."

"Yeah, bye!" You wave one last time before disappearing into the crowd of people. The two boys watched as you and Tashi plastered on massive smiles in front of the pristine trophy you won as a photographer snapped photos.

During which, you had learnt that Patrick was the one with the black hair and Art was the one with the blonde hair when you asked Tashi who was who.

Your cheeks ached and your eyes burned when the camera was going off, a multitude of people standing next to you at different times. You even stood next to Tashi while either of your families stood around you two.

"You ready to leave?" Tashi asked, her thumb flicking off some dried mascara that had fallen from your lashes and onto your cheek while you thanked her.

"Absolutely," She tugged on your wrist towards the pathway between the bushes, having both to stop and say your last goodbyes to everyone.

It was quieter as the two of you walked before voices cut through the silence. "Hey!" You looked up to where the voice came from to see Art and Patrick, lounging by some benches in a tucked away corner.

"Guess we should see what they want," Tashi mumbled.

Getting closer, you noticed the two of them smoking cigarettes, both immediately standing up when you and Tashi approached. The smell of tobacco hung in the air, mingling with the cool evening breeze. "Hi," you greeted them, your voice breaking the silence. Patrick glanced at you, then quickly turned his gaze to Tashi, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Don't you guys have a final tomorrow?" you asked, genuinely curious about their casual demeanor.

"It's just juniors, so nothing to worry about," Patrick confirmed, his tone dismissive. He looked bashful as he stared at your best friend, his cheeks reddening slightly under her gaze. It was clear he was more interested in her than in any exam.

You nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. "Okay, well um, it's cool how you two stayed," you said with a smile, feeling a bit awkward.

"Do you two smoke?" Patrick asked, his own cigarette bouncing against his bottom lip when he spoke, drawing your attention briefly there.

"No," Tashi replied faster than you did, shaking her head vehemently. Her long hair swayed gently as she did, catching the fading light of the day.

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no, we don't smoke," you said, watching as Patrick slipped the cigarettes back into his pocket.

Patrick nodded while Art sucked on his cigarette. "Do you guys wanna go to the beach?"

You agreed and Tashi did once you did, and so now the four of you were walking to the hill that was actually above the beach, you sat on a rock while Tashi sat on a discarded tree stump, the boys sitting on chairs.

Tashi spoke about tennis— she always spoke about tennis, you sat and listened to her getting appraisal, you got complimented on your game and your skills, but you just smiled in response where as Tashi would talk about how tennis was like a relationship.

You weren't really paying much attention, instead choosing to look over your shoulder at the glistening waves of the ocean, reflecting the moon's edge. The rhythmic sound of the waves was almost hypnotic, drawing you into a tranquil state.

"And you?" Your name was called, snapping your attention away from nature. You turned to find the blonde staring at you intently, a curious look in his eyes.

"Huh?" you responded, a bit startled and disoriented from being pulled out of your reverie. The question hung in the air, and you realized you had missed something important in the conversation.

"Tashi was explaining what tennis is to her, so I asked you what tennis is to you," He continued, finishing off his cigarette.

"Oh, uh, a sport I guess," You shrugged. "It's great and all but..." Tennis wasn't your first choice, nor your second, yet the weight of your future was not dependent on your hands. It was on your father's, and after he saw what Tashi could do and the success that lies in the sport, you were ripped away from your passion and plonked in the middle of the court. It wasn't that you didn't like tennis, you just didn't love it.

"What?!" Patrick's eyes bulged out his head as he sat up. "Just a sport?! Surely you're joking?"

You shook your head earning a scoff from him. Tashi went quiet, looking at her lap. A gentle smile on her face, somehow gif answer struck a little bit of shame in her.

"Hey, um, I think I should go. My dad's probably gonna come looking for me," Tashi spoke, standing up from her seat.

"Oh yeah, hold up. I'll walk you to yours," you said, also standing and dusting the back of your pants, trying to brush off any dirt that might have clung to you. You glanced back at the ocean one last time, the waves still shimmering under the moonlight.

"You have Facebook?"

"What?"

Art tilted his head towards Patrick. "He's asking for your numbers, and so am I."

"Not a home-wrecker," you muttered under your breath, your eyes darting between the two of them. Patrick shook his head at your response with a small smile.

"We don't live together, so it's barely a home," Art nodded at his words, agreeing.

"Yeah, and Patrick has a girlfriend," At this response your eyebrows raised, Patrick's expression fell.

"It's barely a relationship," He excused.

"Sure. They put you two in the hotel in Flushing, right?" Tashi asked them with her arms draped across her chest, shielding her from the chilly night air.

"Room 206."

You let out a short giggle through your nose, softly nudging Tashi with your elbow. "They want you to go tuck them in."

"Not just her, and no, we wanna keep talking..." Art cocked his head, blonde locks falling over his brown as he did as such. "...about tennis."

"Okay," you shook your head, urging Tashi to continue walking. She thankfully did.

"We have beer!" you heard one yell after the two of you, making you laugh. You glanced back over your shoulder with a playful smirk, catching a glimpse of their hopeful faces before they were both covered by the thick bushy arch-way.

You were always in Tashi's dorm, the two of you out of your dresses and into something more comfortable. You chose black cotton shorts and a white Nike hoodie. "I think it'll be fun, don't you?" She asked as she sprayed some deodorant over herself.

"Yeah,but they also seem like two die hard virgins," You snickered. "But shame, they were sweet," Your chin was nestled in the palm of your hand as you silently watched her.

"Or maybe they're secretly sex gods," Tashi shrieked when you threw a pillow in her direction, laughter bubbling from her lips. "What? I'm just saying! The blonde one was totally into you!"

"We had minimal conversation," you playfully rolled your eyes, getting up from the bed as Tashi made her way to the door.

"Yeah, but you didn't see the way he was looking at you when you weren’t looking," She said in a sing-song voice, opening the door and shutting it behind you, the two of you walking down the passage together.

"Okay, sure Tashi."

"Do you think they're actually coming?" Art, who was laying on his back on the bed, asked. Legs leaning against the wall as a cigarette dangled from his lips, tossing a ball up and down.

"They might," Patrick groaned when the AC didn't work, even after he had banged on it multiple times.

"Dude, you made it sound like we wanted to fuck them in here."

"...we do."

"And if they do, then what's your plan?"

"We each have one, or worse, they both have one, while the other sits in the bathroom."

"Just face it, they're not coming," and then, there was a knock on the door, both boys went stock still and rigid, a second knock brought them out of their shock before they were hurriedly stumping out their cigarettes and throwing on shirts.  The door before you ripped open, revealing the two who looked out of breath and flushed. "Hey."

"Hi."

So now the four of you ended up sitting on the floor, sporting one beer can between you all, and a deck of cards as you guys were in the middle of Go Fish. "You guys went to boarding school."

"Mhm, we've been bunk mates since we were twelve."

"That's cute," You said before taking a swig from the chilled can of beer, before placing it down in front of you.

The conversations switched between different topics. "So what about the two of you?" Tashi asked, gesturing between the two of them. It took a solid minute before they realised what she was insinuating.

"No."

"No."

"Well..."

"No, don't."

"What? It’s a sweet story," Patrick giggled as he recalled it, Art went a brilliant shade of red as he hid his face behind his shirt, hiding his embarrassment.

"Well go on, let's hear it," You leant backwards, leaning against your hands as you watched Art turn even more red before he threw his hands up in defeat. Patrick nodded.

"I taught Art how to jerk off," Patrick said, watching Art's head hang in embarrassment. You couldn't fight off the grin that made way on your face.

"Okay. Patrick was an early bloomer, and I think I was on time," Patrick said. "And one time, I thought he was asleep but he was, y'know... jerking off—."

"Jerking off. And, yeah..." Patrick butted in.

"And I asked him, "What are you doing?"And he told me; He's jerking off." Patrick again jabbed in with the 'jerking off' part. "He asked me if I've ever done it before and I said no, so he just...showed me."

"What do you mean he showed you how?" Tashi laughed, she had been sitting with her legs pressed against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees.

"No I mean...he did it on his bed and I did it on mine. We did it together but like, on opposite sides...in the room," Art looked like he wanted to die, to have the earth split open in two and swallow him.

"Silently?"

"Hmm? No, no. I was think of Kat Zimmerman and so..." Patrick explained.

"So I was thinking about her too."

"Because it's always better to have someone in mind, y'know?"

"So who finished first?" Tashi asked, you turned your head to look at her with a raised brow, wondering why she was asking all these questions.

"I don't remember..."

"I think it was him," Patrick pointed at Art. Art tried to deny but Patrick wasn't hearing it. "No... it definitely was. I remember," He began to chuckle. "I remember how he was just sitting there, like some kid who had spilt milk all over his lap. I knew enough to have a sock nearby. Forgot to tell Art so..."

"Oh Jesus, Patrick!" Art sighed, skin hot and pink from how much Patrick was letting on.

"No, I think it's a cute story," You giggled while Art looked at you distraught before running a hand over his face muttering things under his breath.

Tashi took a sip of beer before she shook the can. "We're out of beer.”

She said that before standing up, you watched as she looked around the room before deciding to sit on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap. Her eyes cast down on the three of you as you still sat on the floor.

With a jut of her head, she said; "Come here,"

"Which one—?" Patrick was already pushing off the floor and sitting down next to her, Art following suit, while you decided to stay seated on the floor, turning to look at them.

Tashi sat on the bed with Art and Patrick next to her while you sat on the floor, in the boy's shared room. It took you by surprise when she leant closer to Patrick, almost as if she was going to kiss him before tilting her chin away and pressing her lips against Art's. Patrick looked butt-hurt to say the least.

Her lips mingled against Arts in a steamy kiss, Patrick's shoulders sagged and you, all you could do was watch. She then broke the kiss and kissed Patrick, Art watching their lips move together, mesmerised.

What shocked you the most after she had finished kissing Patrick, was when she bent at the waist to look at you. "Come here," Tashi instructed.

You blinked up at her before standing up from the ground and walking towards her. She grabbed the front of your hoodie and pulled you onto Art, whose hands had to grip your waist to prevent you from falling, your hands on his shoulders.

"Go on..." She instructed, gesturing between you and Art. Your lips parted to say something but closed as you turned to look over at Art.

Slowly, you brought your face to kiss, lips brushing his, which had a thin layer of saliva on them, and pressed them together. Arts hands moved from your hips to your lower back, lips moving increasingly faster and harder against each other.

Tashi watched as you kissed the boy, Patrick watched her. Her brown eyes blown with lust as she slowly brought her lips to Patrick's, eyes prying off of you before fluttering shut.

You leant closer, lifting your legs up to straddle him, his hands immediately going to cup your ass, to hold you firm in place. Art would let out small whimpers and whines against your lips, turning into putty when your fingers thread through his locks, the boy almost came in his pants when you tugged in his air.

It really didn't help when he felt your hips dip, as you began to grind your hips against his lap, his pyjama shorts were so thin, and your cotton shorts were just as, he could feel the heat of you against his aching erection.

Art gave up and lay back, having you still cage him in, hips relentless. You could feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your clothed arousal, which was dripping into your panties.

Art's lips broke away from yours, allowing for your lips to kiss down his jaw and suck purple and red bruises on his neck. His mouth lax, letting out whimpers of your name. "Aw, fuck...shit..." He'd moan, his strong hands gripped at the flesh of your hips, his own hips kept rocking up against you.

You were well aware of the scene next to you, Tashi and Patrick who's lips were locked together, Patrick was more rough with Tashi than Art was with you, but he wasn't as talkative or loud than Art.

"Please?" Art didn't know what he was begging for, but he needed something. The small patch of wetness in his underwear from his pre-cum was seeping through to your own wet patch of arousal.

"You like this, Art?" You asked against his skin, Art nodded, his larger hand finding the ends of your hair and tugging at it, you could only let out a moan of your own. You moaned his name, and that was Art's end game as he spilled his hot cum in his shorts, moaning out your name.

You couldn't enjoy it any longer, the way you felt your own high near, the way you felt wet and sticky down there, desperate for release before you were yanked backwards by Tashi, who gripped your hoodie. "Come on, it's time to go."

"W-What?" You asked in disbelief, back on your feet. Art had sat up and grabbed a pillow, hiding the massive spill in his shorts with a face as red as a turnip. "But I was...we were just—."

"Ah, ah, ah, it's past one. Bed time, missy." Tashi let go of your hoodie and began to walk towards the door. You could tell she enjoyed her kiss, with her messy hair and the dark marks that began to darken against her skin, but clearly that's all it was for her and Patrick—a kiss.

You had no choice but to follow, turning to look over at Art who watched you, like a kicked puppy, leave. "I'm not done with you," you pointed to him before you were out of sight.

Patrick waited until you were guaranteed to be out of ear shot before turning and grabbing Art by the shoulders and ferociously shake him. "Dude! Look at you! Almost banged one of the hottest chick ever!" He exclaimed. "You should totally go for her, she was definitely into you."

"You think?" Art got a little too excited and stood up, pillow slipping from his lap, exposing his semi-boner he got from recalling the events.

"Yeah," Patrick slapped Art's boner, who doubled over in pain. "Go for it."

A week had passed, Tashi and Patrick were somewhat a thing, as for you and Art, well, he thought you were ignoring him. Anytime he saw Tashi, you weren't with, you were always with Tashi. The one time he asked her where you were and she said practicing on the courts, when he got there, there was no sign of you.

Art wondered if he did anything wrong, if you regretted the kiss. Since the kiss, Art hadn't been able to get you off his mind, he knew of you before and thought you were brilliant and was somewhat attracted, but now? He's utterly infatuated with you, and you... are no where to be seen.

You had been so caught up in your studies, you had one last final to write before you were done. You had spent most of your days harbouring knowledge in your room or practicing for shorter periods than what you perhaps should have, it was an ongoing cycle.

Thankfully all that stress was gone into this air when you walked out the exam venue, immediately going to the small vending machine. "God damn it," You sighed, your foot digging into the metal box when it swallowed up your five dollar bill and refused to give you your snack. "Why?"

Your name was called, you look at the directions to see Art jogging over to you. The closer he got, the more sheepish he became. "There you are, I haven't seen you all week."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I've just been studying for my final finals, between that and tennis I've just lost track of time," You told him honestly. You watched as his shoulders relaxed and he suddenly became embarrassed.

"Oh. I thought you were avoiding me," His hand rubbed the back of his neck, skin burning under his touch. "I'm sorry."

"Avoiding you?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Why would I do that?"

"I...I don't know. I just thought that you didn't like the kiss we had, and got weirded out when I, y'know..." Art stared at his shoes, they were pearly white and brand new. "I didn't know, now I sound stupid."

"Pfft, no you don't," You let out a breath of a laugh. "And no, I did very much enjoy our kiss, and I kinda liked it when you came in your pants."

Art let out a groan of embarrassment, big smile stretching on his face as his head lifted up to look at the popcorn ceiling before looking at you. "Stop! Now you make me sound like a virgin," He laughed and shook his head.

"No, it was cute," You smiled up at him, leaning against the vending machine. It was silent as you two just smiled and stared at each other. His face inching to yours.

A beat passed. "I really wanna kiss you right now," He admitted, his voice was soft yet filled with desire. "Can I kiss you right now?"

"I'd be upset if you didn't," Arts lips were instantly on yours. Not caring if others could see. His one hand was on your jaw, fingers pushing between your hair, tongue licking at your bottom lip.

You didn't allow him into your mouth before you broke the kiss, finding it sweet how his lips chased yours before realising you weren't going to continue the kiss, opting to look at you with a small pout.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Can't give you everything you want," You smirked. "You'll have to find me later if you want more, and who knows? Maybe you'll cum in your pants again," Your smirk grows bigger when you finish your sentence before brushing past him and walking away, leaving a very flustered and shocked Art by the vending machine.

The irony of it all was your snack slipped from its holder, landing with a loud 'clang' at the bottom. Art replayed your words in his head, and now he couldn't wait for 'later'.

Except he didn't know when was 'later' and where it was. He doesn't know which hotel, you were in nor which room. He would only be able to catch you during school. He thankfully caught you in the schools canteen, where he was going to meet Patrick. You were busy ordering from the counter when he saw you, Patrick going to go sit down by the counter against the wall.

You had bought a chocolate croissant, spinning around only to almost bump into Art. "Oh, didn't see you there."

"Sorry," You could count how many times he'd apologised today on one hand. "Just, didn't know when to catch you, and I don't have your number so... uh," He licked his bottom lip as he chose how to ask you. "When is...later?"

"Ohh, later, as in round two, when we pick up where we left off later? M'kay, well that's whenever you want it to be," You gave him a smile after your words.

He tilted his chin down by a smidgen, his blonde locks barely moving as some were trapped under his red cap he wore backwards. "If I had my way, later would be now," He admitted, a flash of darkness surged though his eyes before it was gone as he stepped around you to order, leaving you just as shocked as you left him by the vending machine.

You let out a hum, turning around to face his back. "I'll come visit you tonight at eight, make sure your friend is gone before I arrive. See you," You chirped before spinning on your heel and walking out the canteen.

Art mulled on your words—yet again, and now he really, fucking couldn't wait until 'later'. He grabbed his two churros from the lady at the counter and made his way towards Patrick who was grinning from ear to ear. "So. What did she say?"

Art cleared his throat. "Hey, don't you wanna go spend the night with Tashi?" He asked, in hopes that Patrick would agree and not catch on to what he said, unfortunately for him, he did.

"Man, my man! You horn dog!" Patrick chuckled as he grabbed his churro and took a large chuck out of it, chewing on it mercilessly. "But yeah, I'll spend the night with Tashi."

And then, the 'later' came. Patrick had left and told Art he'd be back somewhere tomorrow, leaving Art all on his own. Art had only ever done casual, he'd gone on maybe two dates, which ultimately failed, and he's slept with maybe four other girls which would all leave by the morning, he told himself this was nothing new, yet found himself spraying on a little extra deodorant to smell good, for you.

His heart rate spiked when he heard you knock on the door, he rushed to rip it open revealing you in a pink sweater and denim shorts. He greeted you a little too quickly, he was nervous.

"Hi, Art," You stepped inside and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, he immediately melted into it as he shut the door with one hand.

"I have a movie and some snacks, if you wanna watch," His thumb jabbed towards the small TV in the hotel room that was positioned in the corner, facing the two double beds.

"Sure, Art. Lead the way," Art nodded and turned to go find a movie to watch, pondering over which was suited for the occasion before settling on some crappy romance flick. You sat at the edge of Arts bed, where you two had kissed. Art rushed to turn off the lights and grab a packet of chips, before plonking himself next to you.

You thought it was sweet how you two were supposed to fuck, yet here you were, watching some poorly executed film.

Twenty minutes had passed before you grew bored of the movie. You turned your head to watch Art instead.

You could see how tense he was, his adams apple bobbed when he swallowed a chip, his back plank straight instead of hunched in relaxation.

A soft gasp caught in his throat when he felt your hand land on his back and run up and down his spine. "You're so tense, Art," He looked over at you, while you watched your hands movements. His hands firm on his thighs.

His eyelids fluttered shut and his lashes kissed his cheeks when your hands went higher to massage his head. He dared not open is eyes when your warm breath fanned his face. You were close, so so close!

"Look at me," Like an obedient puppy, his eyes snapped open as he stared at you. "Why are you so nervous?”

Art swallowed. "You make me nervous," He said, before whispering; "because I like you."

You couldn't fight off the smile that graced your face. "It's okay Art, I like you too," your hand moved to his forehead where you pushed his curls back, Art enjoying your touch before a frown graced his features when it left. He then felt your weight on him as you climbed onto his lap, exactly like the time you shared your kiss. Arms looped around his neck and your chest against his.

His hands got a little more touchy as they slipped under your sweater and settled on the warm skin of your lower back, his fingertips tracing every groove and bump there. His sky blue eyes looking up at you through his light lashes in the dimly lit room. "You do?" He whispered softly.

"I do," Then, you pressed your lips to his. He sighed against you, allowing for the rest of his nerves to evaporate, his arms ringing you closer. You felt his lashes brush your skin, and his curls against your forehead. You licked at his bottom lip and he immediately allowed for your tongue to press against his.

Your nails scratched at the spot beneath his ear, sending a shiver down his spine and an involuntary whimper to escape his throat. It was so easy to get him worked up, his erection making his Nike shorts taut. His eyes rolled back in his head when your hips shifted against his, allowing for some release.

"Mmm, Art," You breathlessly mumbled, even though the denim shorts barely helped you, the feeling of his hands touching all over your back and rear was still pleasant.

Your hips became more vigour, and Art became louder. "No, no, no..." He seemed to catch on to what you were trying to do, his hands flew to your hips and ripped you off, making you hover. Arms strong from his years of tennis. "You're not gonna make me cum in my pants again."

You smirked at this. "You're no fun," You shook your head, Art rolled over, now having your back against the bed, and your legs dangle off the sides. You wasted no time, grabbing the front of his shirt and bringing him to you, reconnecting your lips together.

Art kissed you back passionately, his tongue entering your mouth as he took it all in. His hands traveled over your body, trying to memorize it as he felt your curves and your skin. He continued to kiss and nibble down your neck, leaving small hickeys in his path. His hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, slowly and carefully pulling it off of you to reveal your exposed breasts.

Art couldn't help but admire your body. He took a moment to drink in the view, his eyes traveling up and down your frame. He reached out and gently ran a hand over your skin, tracing your curves with his fingers. His calloused fingers went to your nipple, you shuddered when he gave it a gentle tug before letting it settle back into place.

He smiled, a hint of desire in his eyes. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips loving down and finding your neck and nibbling gently.

"Art, take your clothes off," You whine, hand grasping the back of his shirt to pull at it. "It's unfair how I'm half naked while you're fully."

Art let out a bemused chuckle at your impatience, his smile widening. "Anything for you," he teased, his voice dripping with desire. He stood up straight, pulling his shirt off and discarding it on the floor before going for his pants, he then quickly bent at the waist and turned on the lamp, "Wanna see you."

You watched his expose his torso, now stripped down to his underwear before going back to you, his fingers moved forwards and dug into the waistband of your shorts before yanking them, you had already undone the button, with some not-so-fluid motion, they came off. His hands went to your hips but you were so eager to kiss him again, leaning forward and smashing your lips against his.

One of your hands went to steady yourself on his arm with the other was feeling the muscles and flesh of his torso, pinkie finger grazing over his black underpants until your whole hand was  grasping his hard cock, even through the material, you felt the ridges and veins, the small wet patch grew the longer you touched him.

"That feels good," Art admitted against your hips, his hips pressing further into your touch. "Really fucking good."

"I know, my baby," Your words sent a flutter through his chest. You moved your hand up before it slipped underneath his boxers, now nestled in your palm as you stroked him. You had to momentarily break the kiss, pushing his boxers down and spitting on the head of his cock, throbbing red, lubricating it as you jerked him off slowly.

"Mmf— fuck!" He hissed when your thumb brushed his leaky slit, hips bucking up into your hand.

You continued this motion, jerking your hand and rubbing his tip, moments before your name spilled from his lips like a mantra, white spurts of his thick cum spilling onto your hand. You continued until he rode out his high until bringing your hand to your lips and licking majority of his cum off with a satisfied hum.

Art grabbed your hand unexpectedly and moved it to his lips, his mouth opening, letting his tongue lap up the rest of his cum on your hand in languid strokes, eyes boring into yours. "You tasted so good," You told him, his eyelashes quivered and his cheeks flushed further at your praise.

He let your hand fall when he finished, you dug your hand into the bedding and shifted upwards until your back hit the bed frame. He crawled onto the bed until he was hovering over you, blonde locks sticking to his forehead with perspiration.

His head ducked forward to kiss your collar bone and up, trailing over your neck as he peppered it with kisses before his nose nudged your ear. "God, I need you so bad."

"You have me, Art," Your hands pressed against his shoulders, pushing him to the side and then onto his back, allowing for you to kick your leg over and straddle him, the only thing in your way was your own underwear. "All of me."

Art looked exactly that, like an art piece. His blue eyes contrast to his pink cheeks and pale hair, lips red and swollen from the numerous kisses, his chest heaving up and down and his heart thundering away, waiting for your next move. His hands went to your hips, thumb rubbing along any groove you had, his hands now warm. "All of you," He echoed.

You raised your lips, your fingers pushing your underwear to the side, not even off, your eyes flickered to his. He gulped when he saw how wet you were, arousal dripping down into him. He moved his hand to grab his cock, positioning it in a way that was easy for you to slip him inside.

First was the tip, it set you up for the anticipation of all of hi , the further you sunk down onto him, the more it hurt, but you weren't gonna complain, not after pining to Tashi about this boy. Art let out a whimper when he was fully sheathed, already tender from his previous orgasm.

You planted both hands on his chest before lifting your hips, and dropping them down. Arts hands tightened their hold as he assisted, having you lift them plummet onto his cock, his blonde eyebrows scrunching in pleasure. The movements got faster, and the euphoria expanded. "You're making me feel so good," You told him, hips doing a combination of grinding on and riding his cock

Arts eyes shone upon your words, pride sweeping in his chest and a warm feeling settling in his tummy. "Yeah?" He asked and you nodded, taking one hand of his and arranging g his fingers in a way that pressed against your throbbing clit, Art new immediately what you wanted and fervently rubbing circles on the aching nub, your pussy squeezing him at the added pleasure. "Ah fuck, feels so good, so so good."

Art didn't shut up as you rode him. He'd moan, groan and whimper your name. Telling you how good you felt around him. "Am I doing good?” His voice was soft and shaky.

"Yes Art, shit! You’re doing so good, baby. I'm so proud," and your words were even shakier. Arts fingers rubbed faster against your clit, he bent his knees which made you shift forward, his cock now repeatedly bumping against that one spot that had you seeing stars and galaxies beyond.

That sent Art toppling over the edge, his hands squeezed harder around your waist, head thrown back and his back arched as he came, buried deep in your pussy. You felt his warm load full you up, and his hips stop moving against yours, a loud moan of your name falling from his lips.

You couldn't beat the small ounce of disappointment you felt when he lifted you, soft cock slipping out, and your orgasm vaporise. "Did you enjoy?"

He nodded, eyes blinking up at the ceiling. His lips then parted before shutting, before ultimately opening again. "You didn't cum, did you?"

You sucked in a short breath. "No."

Arts eyes screwed shut like your words pained him. "I'm sorry," He mumbled.

You were going to say something but he beat you to it.

“Sit on my face."

"What?" You asked, astonished.

"You heard me, sit on my face."

You blinked once before swallowing, moving up now face to face with the wall as your pussy hovered over his face, slick with arousal and his own cum. He wasted no time, fingers pushing you firm against him, clit bumping his nose before his tongue dove into your pussy.

His own previous, salty release washed over his tongue, before it moved to your clit, where it began to flick at it. Your fingers sighting out his hair, pulling on it as you ground yourself further against his face. Even though your eyes were fighting to roll back into your skull and your tongue was threatening to fall out, you still made effort to look down at him.

His own eyes shut as he focused on his movements, you'd feel small vibrations against your clit, once he'd wrapped his lips around them, as he whimpered, savouring the way you tasted. Your body fell forward, head smushed against the wall at one particular flick on the tongue.

His long fingers sought out your puckering hole that clenched around nothing, until two fingers filled you up. You had to bite down on your forearm, when he split his fingers open, scissoring inside you. "I-I'm not gonna last any longer," You moaned.

Art mumbled something against you, his tongue lapping faster like a starved man, and that was it. You felt your release rip from you like a tidal wave, legs clamping around his head, drowning him in your fluids.

When you lifted your hips, you saw how the bottom half of his face was drenched in cum, his lips open and panting. You swung your leg around so you could lay next to him. You couldn't help your fingers that wiped away at his face, his pink tongue sticking out to lick your release from your fingers. "How was I? Truly?"

You let out a tired smile. "You were great, Art."

He nodded, tilting his head to look at you. "So were you."

You let out an exhausted chuckle before curling yourself into him, Art's hand went to stroke your hair, lips pressing a kiss against your hairline.

"Will I get to see you again? L-Like other than sex?" His words vibrated against your head.

"If this is a way of asking me on a date, then yes."

You felt him slowly nod. "Okay, yes. Good."

"Good."

"Good..."

anywho! be on the lookout for part 2 where they’re older, and there’s a whole truck load of drama (go figure as to what it is)

#gabgabwrites #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #art Donaldson x fem reader #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers art donaldson #challengers x reader

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? Their son, Jack always wanted a pet but with them traveling the world for the races, it was not possible. But when Charles recently adopted Leo, Jack asks his mother to help him. Knowing Toto wouldn't say no to her. With "indistinguishable squeaky noises' when Jack got what he wanted all along. And "Aww! A PUPPY!". They both give Toto a very crushing hug. Just major fluff and cute. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))

Here you go! Enjoy reading it and I also add a small part of SMAU 🤭, well, since lots of you guys have been sending me texts telling me how much you like it! I read it all and I cherished each and every message. Love you all!

Jack was on a mission. He had been begging his parents for a pet for months now, but with their busy lives full of Formula One travels, it was impossible. He knew his dad would probably say no, but his mom was a softie when it came to family, especially him. So he went to her with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Mama, can we get a puppy?"

She smiled at his eagerness, knowing that she would have to be the one to persuade Toto. She lowered down in front of her son, ruffling his hair playfully. "Sweetie, you know your dad has a lot on his plate with work, right?" Jack pouted, his shoulders slumping. "I know, but I really want a puppy! Please, Mama? Can't you talk to Papa?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. She chuckled softly, unable to resist his adorable expression. "Alright, alright," she relented. "I'll talk to him."

Jack's face lit up with excitement, his eyes widening. "Really? You'll talk to Papa?"

His mother nodded, laughing softly. "Yes, I'll talk to him," she assured him. "But don't get your hopes too high, okay? Your Papa is a bit of a hardass." Jack's expression soured slightly at her words, but he quickly brightened. "But you'll convince him, right?"

She chuckled again, ruffling his hair once more. "I'll do my best."

Over the next few days, she thought about how to approach the topic with Toto. She knew he was a bit of a worrywart when it came to Jack's safety, and a puppy was a big responsibility.

Finally, one evening while they were having dinner together, she decided to bring it up. "Toto," she began, her tone casual.

Toto looked at her, his gaze curious. "Yes, Liebe?" he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for his response. "Jack has been asking me for a pet," she said, watching his reaction closely.

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression immediately becoming wary. "A pet? Like a dog or a cat?" he asked, setting his glass back down on the table.

She shrugged lightly, trying to appear nonchalant. "I think he's set on a puppy," she replied, gauging his reaction.

Toto's expression darkened slightly, but he didn't immediately shut down the idea. "We travel constantly," he said, his tone pragmatic. "How exactly would we care for a puppy on the road?"

She had expected this argument, and she was ready with a counter-point. "I've been thinking about that," she said quickly. "We could hire a dog walker or a pet sitter whenever we can't be there."

Toto frowned, his expression unconvinced. "It's not just about the physical care," he countered. "What about training and socialization? A puppy takes time and effort to raise."

She bit her lower lip, realizing that his concerns were valid. "I know it won't be easy," she acknowledged, her tone earnest. "But Jack has been such a good kid, and he's wanted a pet for so long."

Toto sighed, his expression softening. "I know he has, but can't just adopt a puppy on a whim."

She nodded, understanding his point but not willing to give up just yet. "I'm not suggesting we adopt one right now," she reassured him. "But we could at least talk about it, right?"

Toto leaned back in his chair, considering her words. "Alright, I'll listen," he said finally. "But you need to convince me why this is a good idea."

She took another deep breath, thankful that he was at least willing to listen. "Having a puppy could be good for Jack's development," she began. "It would teach him responsibility, and he would have a companion to help him deal with the stress of our travels."

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You think a puppy will help manage stress?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

She took another deep breath, thankful that he was at least willing to listen. "Having a puppy could be good for Jack's development," she began. "It would teach him responsibility, and he would have a companion to help him deal with the stress of our travels."

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You think a puppy will help manage stress?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Having a puppy to play with and snuggle up with might make his time on the road a bit more bearable."

Toto considered her words, his expression slowly softening. "Alright, I'll give you that," he agreed reluctantly.

His resistance was starting to crumble, and she could see that she was slowly winning him over. "And don't forget," she added with a smirk, "puppies are incredibly cute. Just imagine how happy it would make Jack."

Toto rolled his eyes playfully, a small smile creeping onto his lips. "You're playing dirty, Liebe" he accused her.

She chuckled, loving the banter between them. "I'm just speaking the truth," she responded, her tone innocent. "A puppy would be a wonderful addition to our family."

Toto let out a small huff, a mixture of resignation and affection. "You're really not going to let this go, are you?" he asked, his expression resigned but fond.

She shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. "Not until we at least consider it," she said, leaning forward slightly.

Toto couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. "You're relentless," he said, his tone admiring rather than annoyed. "But you always know how to get what you want, don't you?" 

She smirked, knowing she had won the argument. "It takes a special skill to handle a stubborn man like you," she teased, her voice flirty.

Toto rolled his eyes once more, his expression a mix of amusement and defeat. "You're lucky I love you," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Throughout their conversation, their voices never rose above a quiet whisper, so as not to alert their son that they were discussing his request. Jack was currently upstairs in his room, presumably doing his homework or playing with his toys.

With a conspiratorial smile, she leaned in closer toward Toto. "Jack is already prepared for a puppy," she replied, giggling softly. "He's spent hours online watching puppy videos. Also, he had spent quite some time playing with Leo last week, and did not stop talking about it ever since.” 

Just then, a small voice called out from the staircase. "Mama?"

She looked up to see Jack standing there, a hopeful expression on his face. "Yes, sweetie?" she asked, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

Jack looked between her and Toto, his eyes slightly widened. "Did you talk to Papa about the puppy?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

She smiled warmly at her son, her heart swelling with affection. She looked over at her husband, who was still leaning back in his chair, a resigned expression on his face.

"We've been discussing it," she replied to Jack, her tone light.

Jack's eyes widened even further, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. "And what did Papa say?" he asked, barely able to contain himself.

Toto let out a soft sigh, knowing that he was outnumbered in this situation. He couldn't help but feel a pang of affection for his wife and son, especially when they both gave him those big, pleading eyes.

"We're considering it," he spoke up, his tone resigned but fond.

Jack let out a small gasp, his expression filled with glee. He practically bounced from foot to foot, his excitement barely contained.

"Considering it" seemed to be enough for Jack, as he squealed in delight and practically ran over to Toto, wrapping his small arms around his father's waist in a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Jack repeated, his voice muffled against Toto's shirt.

Toto chuckled, returning his son's embrace. "Don't celebrate just yet," he warned, his tone mock-stern.

Despite his words, Toto's expression was softened, and his arms remained around his son. He was unable to resist the infectious joy that filled Jack's face.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her husband and son, their bond evident even in this brief moment. She knew that once they brought a puppy into the mix, their family would be complete.

Toto slowly extracted himself from Jack's embrace, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"But there are some conditions," he said firmly, his tone serious.

Jack looked up at his father, his expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "Conditions?" he asked, his voice a little quieter than before.

Toto nodded, his expression still stern. "Yes, conditions. If we're going to have a puppy, there are certain things we need to take into consideration."

Jack nodded, his eyes wide and intently fixed on his father. "Like what?" he asked, his voice a little meek.

Toto ticked off the conditions on his fingers as he spoke.

"First, we need to decide on a breed that fits our lifestyle. We can't have a high-energy dog that we can't keep up with."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "Second, you'll need to help take care of the puppy. That means feeding, walking, and cleaning up after it."

Jack nodded vigorously, his expression determined. "I can do that! I promise!"

Toto chuckled softly, impressed by his son's determination and acceptance of the conditions.

He looked at his wife, who smiled warmly at him, then back at his son, his heart feeling a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yes, that's all," he answered, his voice soft. "If you're still willing to accept those conditions, we'll consider getting a puppy."

As Toto spoke, Jack's expression slowly shifted from determination to excitement. He looked up at his father, barely able to contain himself.

"So that means we can get a puppy now?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Toto chuckled, shaking his head indulgently. "Not just yet, maybe tomorrow" he replied, his tone gentle.

A few weeks had passed since the discussions had concluded, and the day finally arrived when they would bring home their new puppy. Jack was practically vibrating with excitement, his face pressed against the car window as they made their way home.

Finally, they arrived at their house, and Jack all but pounced out of the car, running towards the front door. Toto and his wife followed more leisurely, their hearts filled with equal measures of anticipation and amusement.

When they entered the house, Jack froze in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight in the living room. There, sitting in the middle of the room, was a small, fuzzy puppy, its wagging tail a blur.

Jack stared at the puppy in awe, barely able to speak. "Is… is that for me?" he asked, his voice soft and trembling with emotion.

Toto chuckled, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "That's right. That's your new best friend."

Jack slowly made his way towards the puppy, his steps hesitant yet eager. The puppy looked up at him with curious eyes, its little tail still wagging excitedly.

Jack knelt down in front of the puppy, slowly holding out his hand. The puppy sniffed his hand curiously, then licked it, causing Jack to giggle happily.

"Can I hold it?" he asked, looking up at his parents with wide, pleading eyes.

Toto chuckled, his expression fond as he watched his son interact with the puppy. "Of course," he replied, his voice soft.

Jack carefully scooped up the puppy in his arms, cradling it against his chest like a precious treasure. The puppy wriggled a little, settling into a comfortable position in Jack's embrace, its eyes drifting closed in contentment.

Jack looked up at his parents, a huge grin on his face. "I love him already," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

Jack wandered into the garage, the puppy trotting after him on its little legs. The puppy looked curiously around the unfamiliar surroundings, its eyes wide and curious.

Jack settled down against a wall, leaning back against the cool, smooth surface, and patted his lap, gesturing for the puppy to come closer. The puppy obeyed, clambering up onto Jack's lap and nestling in comfortably.

Toto entered the garage, a fond smile on his face as he watched the interaction between his son and the puppy. Toto leaned against a workbench, folding his arms across his chest as he observed Jack and the puppy. The puppy had completely relaxed in Jack's lap, its head resting on the boy's thigh. It looked up at Jack with adoring eyes, its tail thumping quietly against the ground.

Jack was completely enamoured, his eyes fixated on the puppy in his lap. He stroked the puppy's soft fur gently, murmuring to it softly. Toto shook his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You two are quite the pair already," he commented, his voice filled with amusement.

Jack looked up at his father, his expression filled with joy. "Scout's so soft," he whispered, still stroking the puppy's fur. "And he's so smart. He learns things quickly."

The puppy looked up at Toto, its eyes seeming to sparkle with a hint of mischief.

“Papa, can we go out and play? Maybe me and Scout can find Leo.” Jack asked.

“Sure, buddy. But please watch out and be careful.” 

Jack and the puppy were out and exploring the paddock. Suddenly, they heard the sound of playful barking and saw Roscoe and Leo running towards them.

Roscoe and Leo bounded over to Scout and Jack, their tails wagging happily. The three dogs sniffed each other curiously, tails wagging in a friendly greeting.

Lewis and Charles watched as their dogs interacted with Jack and the puppy, a mix of amusement and fondness on their faces. Lewis chuckled softly as he watched Roscoe playfully pounce on the puppy, while Charles watched as Leo and the puppy sniffed each other curiously.

"Looks like they're already forming a pack," Lewis commented, grinning as he watched the dogs playfully wrestle together.

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and others

y/n_user Say hello to our newest member in the Wolff family, his name's Scout Wolff

mercedesamgf1 Hello fur boss

user1 SCOUTS SO CUTE !!!

user2 New bestfr

user4 this is adorable

georgerussell63: scout 100%

maxverstappen1: 🐈's better

mercedesamgf1 🐺's better y/n_user Thanks admin redbullracing 🐂's better scuderiaferrari 🐎's better

carmenmmundt bring him to the race, wifey 🤩

lilymhe and I will bring my kids too, wifey 😚 alex_albon yours? kids?? wifey??? y/n_user yes, and 🤨 that's my wives right there! mercedesamgf1 wives? Liebe, we need to talk - toto wolff lewishamilton last time I checked I went to y/n's wedding only, not sure who she got married to

landonorris when can I visit Scout

y/n_user anytime little lando norris 🤭 oscarpiastri CAN you adopt me so that I can have Austria as my home race to🥺 y/n_user where can I sign 🙌🏻 oscar piastri-leclerc-wolff has a nice ring to it mercedesamgf1 Liebe? We have our child already? - toto wolff y/n_user the more the merrier AND give the acc back to the poor admin pls

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and others.

y/n_user Studied so hard so Daddy took us to the beach 🌊

Comments are disabled on this post.

#toto wolff #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x you #f1 fic #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 smau #smau

[harrysfolklore]

not a prize to win - cl16

summary: seeing charles with other admirers makes you upset, even though you know he loves you

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If looks could kill, you swear that the one you were giving Charles right now would have him buried.

Being with Charles for over three years now, you were used to girls coming over to him all the time. Whether they were fans, reporters or just random women, you had seen it all. Usually, you handled it with grace, trusting in the bond you and Charles had built over the years. But today was different.

The scene replays in your mind, the influencer's high-pitched laughter ringing in your ears. She had sauntered into the Ferrari garage, her confidence palpable as she made a beeline for Charles, draped herself over him, her hands lingering a little too long on his arm, her body a little too close to his.

And what upset you the most, was the fact that Charles didn't stop her.

"Charles, darling, you're going to be amazing out there," she had gushed, batting her eyelashes.

"Thank you," Charles had smiled politely, "I have a good feeling about this race."

You had stood a few feet away, feeling an irrational surge of possessiveness. You wanted to march over, to insert yourself between them, to remind her that Charles was yours. But instead, you had stayed put, your feet rooted to the spot.

Rebecca had noticed your discomfort and had gently steered you away. "Let's go take a walk," she had suggested, leading you out of the garage.

"Do you think I overreacted?" you asked Rebecca as she gave your phone back.

"Not at all, love," she assured, "I mean, If she had been throwing herself at Carlos like that, I would be just as angry."

"I just," you said as you walked back to Ferrari hospitality, "I know he's loyal to me and he wouldn't do anything to hurt me like that, but it's not the first time he's oblivious of people shamelessly flirting with him right in front of me, and that's what upsets me."

"I get it. It's not about trust, it's about respect," Rebecca nodded sympathetically, her arm around your shoulder, "And sometimes, these girls just have no boundaries."

You sighed, feeling a little better having voiced your frustrations. "I just wish he would see it from my perspective."

As you approached the hospitality suite, you made your way towards Charles' room, after saying goodbye to Rebecca and thanking her for listening to you.

You knocked softly on the door, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and apprehension.

"Come in," Charles's voice called from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped in. Charles looked up from his phone and sighed at the upset look still on your face.

"Amour, are you really mad at me right now?"

"I told you I was," you said, "I and thought you wanted me to come here to talk, not to keep dismissing my feelings."

Charles put his phone down and stood up, walking over to you with a concerned look in his eyes. "I do want to talk, chérie. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was ignoring your feelings. Please, tell me what's on your mind."

"She was all over you, battling her fake eyelashes and invading your personal space and you didn't mind at all."

"She was just being friendly, that's all," Charles said, trying to keep his patience.

"Just being friendly?" you gave a laugh in disbelief and raised your eyebrows at him, “Charles, that was not just friendly. That was flirtatious and disrespectful,” you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, “And you didn't even try to set boundaries.”

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't want to be rude. She's an influencer and you know the team wants us to interact with them when they visit the garage. It's part of my job.”

"Part of your job? Are you listening to yourself?" your eyes narrowed, "So letting her drape herself all over you is part of your job now?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Charles winced, "I just meant that sometimes, I have to be polite, even if it makes me uncomfortable."

“But at the expense of my feelings?” you shot back, “I stood there feeling like a third wheel while she fawned over you," he reached out to take your hands, but you pulled away, stepping back, "I hate seeing them treat you like some prize they can win. And I hate even more that you don't seem to care."

"I'm sorry amour, I really am," he searched for your eyes but you looked away, "What happened today hurt you and I'm sorry for that. I don't want you to feel this way."

"It's not just about today, Charles," you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, "It's about how often this happens. Girls come up to you, they flirt, they touch you, and you don't seem to notice or care. And not it turns out it's part of your job to flirt with them."

Charles let out a deep sigh again, putting his hands on his hips and looking away from you. You could tell that he was getting frustrated, but you were upset and you needed to get this out.

"I don't flirt with them," Charles said firmly, turning back to face you. His face now showing a mixture of frustration and a bit of hurt"I might be polite, I might be friendly, but I don't flirt, I never have. The fact that you accuse me of flirting with other girls when you know how much I love you is hurting me."

"Maybe not intentionally, but that's how it feels to me," you replied, your voice softening a bit. "And it hurts me too. I know you love me, but sometimes it feels like you don't see how these interactions affect me."

"Then meet me halfway," he raised his voice a bit, not quite yelling but loud enough to make you flinch a bit, "What should I do? Ignore them or be mean to them so PR can give me shit for that later? Walk around with a 'don't speak to me because my girlfriend gets jealous' sign?"

"Don't yell at me, Charles," your voice came out as barely a whisper.

"I'm not yelling at you," Charles rubbed his face with his hands before looking at you, "I'm not, baby. I'm just trying to understand where you're coming from and why you're so upset about this. I have to get ready for the race shortly and this argument doesn't look like it's ending soon."

"You know what," you threw your hands up in surrender, "Forget I said anything, okay? I'm just a jealous freak who's in the wrong here."

You walked towards the door and grabbed the handle ready to head out, but Charles pulled you by your free hand, "Amour, come on," you turned to look at him, "I'm not getting into the car while we're like this."

"Charles, I don't want to keep arguing either," you said softly, feeling the tension in the air, "I just want you to understand why I feel this way."

Charles sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I do understand, amour. I do. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like your feelings don't matter. They do. You matter more to me than anything else," he said sincerely, stepping closer to you.

You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. Despite your frustration, you knew that Charles didn't mean to hurt you. He was just caught up in the demands of his career, trying to balance his personal life with his public image.

"Go get ready for the race," you said, aware that his team would come get him any minute now, "We'll talk later, but we're okay."

You let Charles pull you closer this time, wrapping your arms around his wait and leaning forward to wrap his around your shoulders as he brought you in for a hug and pecked your head a couple of times, "I love you, okay? Don't you ever doubt that, it hurts me when you do."

"I love you too," you pulled away and pecked his lips softly, "Be safe out there, I'll see you right after."

Charles watched you leave the room, feeling a pang of regret for letting the argument escalate. He knew you were sensitive about these situations, and he hated seeing you upset. But he also felt frustrated by the accusation of flirting, especially when he believed he was just being polite.

As he got ready for the race, his mind kept drifting back to your conversation. He tried to push it aside and focus on the race ahead, but the tension lingered, affecting his concentration.

Despite the distraction, Charles managed to put in a solid performance, crossing the finish line and securing a spot on the podium. The crowd cheered as he stepped out of his car, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake off the argument with you, the hurt in your eyes haunting him.

After the podium celebrations and the interviews, Charles made his way back to the Ferrari hospitality suite. He hoped you would still be there, that you would be willing to talk and resolve things.

You were waiting for him, perched on one of the couches in the hospitality suite, your arms wrapped around yourself as you watched the post-race interviews on the screen. When Charles walked in, still in his racing suit, your eyes met and he walked towards you.

"Hey," he said softly, approaching you cautiously.

"Hey," you replied, standing up and taking a step towards him. "Congratulations on the podium."

"Thank you," he said, but there was a hesitance in his voice.

The soft look on his face was too much for you to handle, so you threw your arms around his broad shoulders and buried your face on his neck. You felt a sigh of relief leave his body and his arms come around your back.

"I hate fighting with you," you said against his neck, "Sorry for being such a brat today and almost ruining your race."

"You're not a brat, amour," Charles held you tighter, his voice gentle as he spoke, "And you didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry too for not understanding sooner."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his racing suit. "I just get so scared sometimes, seeing all those girls trying to get your attention. I know you love me, but it's hard to watch."

"I understand, and I'll try to be more mindful," Charles cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall, "I don't want you to feel like you're not my priority because you are, always."

You leaned into him again, resting your head on his chest and feeling his hand draw circles around your back, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead, both cheeks, and eventually your lips.

"I love you, Charlie. And I know I can be a bit jealous sometimes, but it's just because I care so much about you."

"I love you too, more than anything," he replied, his voice warm and soothing, "It's kind of hot when you get all jealous and possessive, I have to admit."

You pinched his side playfully, making him squirm, "Not when it makes us fight though, I hate when we do that."

You smiled up at Charles, feeling the tension finally dissapear, "Promise me you'll try to be more aware of those situations? And if a girl gets too handsy, you'll shut it down?"

"I promise, amour. No more obliviousness on my part," Charles said, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "And I'll make sure to maintain appropriate boundaries."

"Good," you said, snuggling closer to him. "Because you're all mine, Leclerc."

"Like I said, possessive. It turns me on," Charles teased, placing his hand above your bum.

"Charles, stop!" you moved his hand away, "We're still at your workplace with all of teammates around."

"Let's get out of here, then."

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #canadian gp 2024

[bats-and-the-birds]

I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.

When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.

When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.

Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.

And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.

Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.

Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.

Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.

That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.

Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.

Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.

Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.

Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.

#batfamily #batfamily headcanons #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #red hood #jason todd #red robin #tim drake #robin dc #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #barbra gordon #batgirl #drabble #batfam #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #comics #superheroes #how many rooms does the manor have? no one knows #i'd assume a lot though #like so many #i hope i did okay with Cass and Duke #i don't know a ton about them

[tarjapearce]

Papa, You're Getting Old

Soccer Family! Miguel x Reader

Warning: Fluff, slight smut, suggestive towards the end, introspection, body perception and insecurities. Married couple rants and moments, no proofread.

Summary: Miguel finally notices his white hairs, comfort ensues.

A/N: Like Miguel, got a mini crisis when I spotted my first white hairs today 🫠. Then remembered mom had them around my age too so jsksk. Then remembered (x2) I had this one sitting forgotten in my files jsksk, been forgetting this AU lately :'). Help.

A/N 2: Nearly done with the moving. So we're back, I guess? jsksj.

Soccer Family Masterlist

Papa, you're getting old.

Gabi's words had unintentionally pierced through his skull, engraving with emphasis the old part in his brain after his girl found out the couple of white hairs peppering his wavy locks. He was getting older.

Fourty years of his life had gone by within the blink of an eye. When did time got itself some wheels to roll faster? Who gave it permission to do that? Yet Gabi's words lingered in his thoughts longer than they should.

He was getting old. And the silver strands popping here and there, discreetly in his gorgeous hair you loved sinking your hands into, were the irrefutable proof to understand time never stopped, not even a single second.

For the umpteenth time, he brushed his damp hair away to see if he discovered more of them, and to his bad luck, he did. Specially on the front and side bangs.

He scowled at his reflection and pursed his lips. His body still kept the musculature his younger self nurtured. He truly never believed people whenever they said that exercise kept you active and young looking.

And besides the greying hairs on his head and some on his chest, the fine lines turning a bit more prominent on his features, he looked almost the same.

The same man you had been sharing a good chunk of your life with. Almost sixteen years to be more exact if you counted those two dating years. And now he was growing old.

Miguel didn't want to admit it, but sometimes his age reminded him that his body wasn't the same anymore.

You'd often find him sleeping midway in the couch during movie nights, or his office, whenever work from home was done. Sometimes, his body would ache out of nowhere, but in truth it was mostly his bad posture due his size.

Other times, his grumpiness ran rampant through the day, leaving his coworkers to deal with it, cause he didn't have the heart to pollute his home with his bad vibes. A term  Gabriella kept including during the conversations at night to talk about her unlikeable classmates.

And now, he was glaring at his reflection for daring to do such thing as graying. Even the happy trail you loved to nuzzle had a couple of white hairs.

"You're winning that staring contest, mi amor."

Your little laugh, earned a brief chuckle from him as his shoulders slumped, and if almost sixteen years of knowing eachother had taught you something, was to perfect to a T the understanding of his body language.

You came closer and hugged him from behind, keeping his towel around his hips in place while spanking his plump ass in the process, earning another airy chuckle from him.

"Wanna tell me why, you're glaring harder at yourself this time?"

His arm wrapped gently around you and caressed your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. Yours and his reflection in the bathroom mirror staring right back.

"I'm... getting old, mi reina."

You blinked before looking up at him to have a proper view of what he meant.

"More like aging like a fine wine, Miguel."

"No. You don't understand. Look at this," he pointed at the pluck of white hairs peeking out from his roots, "I didn't have them a few months ago and now I've got a bunch of them. Everywhere!."

You smirked, "Everywhere?"

"Mi amor." He warned and you giggled, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Relax, they look gorgeous on you."

"Oh, do they now?"

With a sigh, you took his hands and gave him that look, he knew by heart as a 'really?'

"I've known you for... How long?" It was your turn to hold onto his narrow waist, holding him exactly the way his hands held yours at the beginning.

"Almost sixteen years." He mumbled, still glueing his eyes on the decaying version of himself.

You nodded and looked at the mirror. Together and close, like most of your pictures together. As always.

"Basically almost half of your life. I met you when I was twenty one, gave birth to our Gabibi by twenty three, enjoyed her for ten years, then we almost made Benjamin in the car."

He snorted and nodded, tittering silently at the sudden memory of the cops calling you out in the lookout spot.

"Almost." He mumbled and you nodded.

"Almost, yeah. But we made him! And look at him, being the smartest boy in his class."

Miguel nodded, fond of his boy's achievements.

"And now we have Rosie. Crawling and trying to walk up in every room we put her in."

"Remind me to baby proof the stairs."

You smiled and smacked his ass, "What I'm trying to get at, Papa. Is that, those white hairs in your head and body are only a beautiful proof that you've lived and loved the right way. Look at us."

You pulled him down for a peck, and cupped his cheeks, making him to look your way.

"You, Papa, mi amor, mi niño hermoso, are the best everything I've ever get to experience. And I'm honored to be the one that you're growing old with."

His eyes softened and his hands trapped yours to then kiss them.

"I'm having white hairs too! Like, the other day a kid called me señora to get me pass his ball. SEÑORA!"

His chuckle turned into a soft and genuine laugh.

"Like, the audacity!"

"You're my señora." He murmured in the side of your head, kissing it afterwards.

"Damn right I am." You nodded proudly," Like we're Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara for a reason."

His smile turned sweeter as he placed your hands around his neck and sat you before him in the sink, looking down on your eyes.

"Would you love me-"

"If you were a worm, yes. I would."

"Cállate" he laughed and cleared his throat, "I mean, you... You still want this?" He pointed at his graying hair and chest.

"That question is offensive in itself."

His eyes darted away, but your soft and gentle hands made his gaze to hold against yours again.

"I'd love you if you were bald, had extra pounds, all tattooed, piercings and stuff, a worm, hell, I'd love you the same if you were an alien."

His brow quirked, but snorted, genuinely amused at your rambling.

"I'd love you the same even if we're going through natural changes as growing old. And yes, I'd still fuck and make love to you all the same." Your hands rested on his hips.

"Oh really?"

"Obviously. That makes me worried though. You're entering a dangerous zone where women see you even more handsome. And I'm not one to be jealous, but all of this," You tapped his butt gently, "is mine."

He pecked your lips with a loving laugh. "I'm all yours. And you're pretty jealous."

"Well, yeah, I'm not sharing your dilfness with anyone. Not when I have these for myself." Your hands squeezed his firm butt and spanked it, he pursed his lips, trying his best to suppress a bashful smile.

"And I'm pretty sure in a future our caretakers would find us having sex in the most random of places in the hospice."

That pulled a merry laugh out of him to then kiss your lips.

"You're crazy."

"For you, always. But in all truth, they'll have to put me in quarantine, because I'm still jumping your bones. Even if I have to use a cane, or ask for assistance to the nurses."

"You'd be lucky if still works."

Your eyes rolled and your thighs pulled him closer to you, between your legs. His teeth bit softly his bottom lip as your hands roamed up his chest, eyes widening partially at the sudden bold move.

His soapy clean smell tickled your senses, after all, you had caught him post shower.

"Trust me, it works wonders."

He groaned when your hand slid between the folds of his towel, cupping him with a light squeeze.

"Yeah?" He half mumbled, half moaned into your lips with darkening eyes. Your touch ever delicious, and sparking the arousal only you managed to ignite in his body. Your scent remained forever etched into his brain, almost conditioning him into enter a needy mode whenever desire oozed from your pores.

You nodded with a needy 'hmm' while your hand stroked him, as if with every movement you'd jerk and caress away all those insecurities out of his mind and body.

"Definitely, mi amor."

His hips stuttered into your gentle grip, heaving a deep and shuddering breath hovering over your inviting lips, relieved and proud to see your eagerness to have him. Gray hairs and all.

The silver strands mattered little, specially when you were set into worshipping and honoring your vows.

"I think I'd love to test it's performance, just to make sure."

A crawl rolled down his spine upon your words. He loved when you talked in his language, it turned him on im such a way he didn't know it could make that part of his cortex tingle. But this moment, had him delivering sweet pecks and kisses down your neck, drunk in your softness and want for none else but him.

You still wanted him, flaws and all. He still made you a mess. And that made his cock to twitch.

"Shall we go to the testing area then, mi reina?"

His flushed and broad tip poked urgently between your clothed folds and inner thighs, hoping to slip in your scorching tightness and wreck you completely, like in his younger years.

However, as much as he wanted to take you right there, the privacy of your room offered him more space to bend and meld you at his whims. Without saying much, he threw you over his shoulder and rushed to your bedroom, thrilled for the upcoming long hours of exhaustive, mind splitting testing.

#t writes✨ #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #soccer family ⚽🕷️ #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #mama o'hara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 2 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

You stared at yourself in the mirror. Your suit was still immaculate thanks to your incessant fiddling, adjusting, and pruning. If not for the gel wearing out in your hair and the sweat beading your brow, the illusion was almost believable. Your rings clinked against the sink's enamel, your silver accents glinting in the fluorescent lighting, while a person did their business in the stall behind you. You sighed and washed your hands.

Damn, the soap was nice. They'd really gone all out for the reception, the fall theme extending even to the cinnamon spice soap bars.

Who were you even trying to fool? You were hiding in the bathroom. You'd arrived on the scene of the reception party in relatively high spirits, convinced all was fine and dandy, that Gretchen was looking to make amends in this small way. But you'd been wrong.

The invitation hadn't been a fluke. There hadn't been some mistake, because on the little plaque where your name was scrawled in neat cursive sat another right next to it. On the round table where you'd be sitting, there would be Regina George directly to your left. On your other side would be Shane Oman. Across from you, Damian and Janis.

You stepped out of the bathroom, a lump still firmly lodged in your throat but resolve found. You'd brave it, be an adult about it. The breakup had been perfectly amicable, for the most part anyway, so there was no reason for you to be so wound up.

"The maid of honour is a major bitch." Amanda sidled up to you as you walked towards your table. She directed you to the bar by the arm.

"She won't let us switch?" You asked, dismayed but not surprised.

"She won't even let you move to the spare table," Amanda said indignantly. "The whole time, I swear, she was lookin' me up and down all judgy."

"Ugh," You groaned. "Can she get your strongest drink?" You motioned for the bartender. The man nodded with a smile, seeming relieved to be rescued from the old lady chatting him up. He was a good-looking fella, tattoo sleeves and a military haircut.

"Anything for you?" He asked you, eyes lingering on Amanda shyly. Amanda leered at him unabashedly, batting her eyelashes while he made her drink.

"Just a coke." You'd been sober for a good couple of years now, free of all substances. You'd had a nasty relapse in college, a disgraceful return to party drugs and obscene amounts of alcohol, but you'd been able to find your footing since. Largely due to Amanda's intervention.

"You gonna be alright?" Amanda asked, for now deciding not to make a move on the bartender. You knew she was biding her time, establishing tension before she struck. She picked up men like a shark.

"Sure, yeah. It's gonna be okay. It's just, y'know, my ex. And her ex. And her nemesis and that nemesis' best friend. All good."

Amanda eyed you warily. You sipped at your coke through a straw. She, too, took a large gulp.

By the time the bride and the groom made their entrance, you were sitting in your spot, desperately trying not to make eye contact with the other occupants of the table. Shane was squirming on your right, fiddling with what seemed to be an engagement ring. Janis and Damian, sitting across from you, didn't seem to have changed much, except obviously grown up.

Janis was still unapologetically goth, though seemingly turned more toward clean, angular lines rather than messy, smudged blacks. She had on a dress and a shawl, beaded bangles and silver jewellery covering her wrists. She'd gotten more piercings since you last saw her. Angel bites on her upper lip, a bridge between her eyes, and stretched ear lobes. There were some bold tattoos as well, such as a rose crawling up her neck and the head of a snake on the back of her hand, extending up her arm.

Damian was in a cute, velvety green suit. His shirt, white with light green fleur de lis patterns, had ruffles going down the buttons. The length of its sleeves also surpassed that of the suit's, which made the whole look seem kind of piratey. His natural hair, a poofy afro, the bulky red-tinted glasses, and the pointy boots he had on gave off a bohemian seventies disco star vibe. He had a very specific aesthetic and you couldn't help but be impressed.

The seat on your left was pointedly lacking a person. Only the plaque was there along with its elegant scrawl. You crossed your legs and threaded your fingers together, bracing for the moment somebody said something to you. Or you were forced to do it yourself.

"So..." There it comes. Surprisingly it was Shane, of all people. "You and Regina."

"Huh?" You made a sound.

"I mean, you're here together, right? That's what I heard." He scratched at his neck, seeming nervous. All the confidence and obnoxious self-assurance seemed to have melted off of him.

"No, you- what? Where'd you hear that?"

"Just some nasty gossip. Don't worry about it. Aaron and I know what it's like." He smiled supportively, but somewhere in the crevices of his cheeks, it seemed sad. "Have you been out for long?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. Shane and Aaron? Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

"Um, pretty much since high school. To be fair, I didn't tell a lot of people back then. You how Northshore was." He nodded along solemnly. "But in college I sort of bit the bullet."

"That's really brave. Aaron and I haven't been out for long, only since the new law passed." He still seemed cautious and shy, but talking about Aaron clearly made him happy.

"When did you two get together?"

As Shane began to tell the tale, you slowly began to relax. Maybe Regina wouldn't even show up. If you and Gretchen were estranged, Regina and she were even more so. Regina had never given you details, but you did know Gretchen had been heavily involved in your shitty junior year. They'd had an explosive, very public falling-out that'd led to a whole lot of drama.

By that point, you'd sort of checked out of high school as well as your relationship with Regina, so you'd paid very little attention.

"Oh, here she comes," Shane pointed behind you, cutting off his own story. You whirled around, back crackling as you twisted your spine.

Regina George, in the flesh. Your mouth watered, pupils dilated, and there was no way you could've suppressed your reaction. Her eyes were locked on yours, a predatory glint in her eye as she strutted towards your table.

You almost didn't hear Damian's whistle or Janis' stunned laugh, but as Regina shifted the white fur stole she had to reveal her shoulders and chest, you went wholly deaf to all but the clack of her heels.

She had on a baby pink bodycon dress with a slit sinfully high up on her thigh, satin hugging her hips sensually. She had on white high heels with thin straps at the ankle and fur at the tops of her toes.

Her makeup was natural, with subtle browns and blacks, except for the prominent blush she'd picked. Her hair was a warmer blonde than before, complimenting her tanned skin. She had on golden jewellery, a familiar golden necklace resting on the dip of her clavicles like a taunt.

She kept on advancing towards the table. You could do little else but stare, slack-jawed at the visage of her. Other people were staring too, you could tell. You could only imagine what Gretchen was doing with her face at the moment, perhaps scowling like a pug or maybe looking like she was about to cry. Regina was but a guest and yet...

Regina was never just Regina. You knew that better than anyone. No matter how she dressed, behaved, or what her priorities were, she was an innate presence that influenced those around her. Gretchen inviting her to her wedding was essentially like shooting herself in the foot.

Regina didn't have to try to snatch the attention of the room, but when she did, there was no competition. And Regina had gone all out. You could tell by the movements of her hands, the way her lashes fluttered, and how her mouth parted just a little. It was obvious, at least to you, that Regina was doing what she did best: Revenge.

"Hi, baby," She cooed down at you. You took a moment to react, surprised by how she was suddenly there, right in front of you.

Her hands reached for you, long acrylics brushing against your collar, then your neck, then the back of your neck and in your hair. Her thumbs directed your head to tilt up. She pulled you close as she leaned down and then—peach lipgloss, glittery eyeshadow, saccharine perfume—your skin tingled where she touched you, sparks going off behind your eyelids as they fell closed, bliss pouring out of your pores as you became filled with it.

You kissed her back, took hold of her hips and pulled her to stand between your legs. Fuck, this was bad. But, fuck, it felt good to kiss her again.

Distantly, like someone shouting into the water in which you were submerged, you realized that this was perhaps the worst way, place, and time you could've reunited with Regina.

Even so, you kissed deeper, licking into her mouth until she made a sound you'd so missed all these years. Just as you began debating the pros and cons of laying her down on the table right there in the open, Shane tugged hard on your shoulder.

"What?" You grumbled, turning to him with a glare already in place.

He was red-faced, and frazzled, but had on a wide grin. "Get it, girl, but calm down. The mother of the bride looks like she's about to implode." He inclined his head towards the long table where all the important people sat. The mother of the bride did indeed look to be on the precipice of a furious blow-out.

"Okay," You swallowed, sense slowly coming back to you.

"Ugh, you're such a party pooper, Shane." Regina pulled away, leaving your palms achingly empty. She didn't go far though. She sat down on her chair before reaching into her white Valentino bag and pulling out some napkins. Then, she leaned in again.

Your eyes fluttered closed and lips puckered. Regina laughed.

"Silly, you have gloss all over your face."

"Oh," Your eyes opened. Gosh, that was embarrassing.

Regina wiped your mouth. Then, she pulled out a compact mirror and fixed her own lips. You watched her do all this. She and Shane started chatting. Apparently, they'd been in somewhat regular contact.

You'd just kissed Regina George. After, what, give or take seven years? In front of the whole goddamn venue. In front of Gretchen, in front of Gretchen's family, in front of basically your entire year from high school.

You got up. "Oh, where are you going?" Shane asked, all innocent. You hoped you didn't look as panicked as you felt. He didn't seem to think anything was wrong. You glanced at Regina.

Fuck. She totally knew. Obviously, she knew you. She could read you like a book.

"Smoke. Be back in a few." You fled.

"I'm coming too," Janis said.

Notes: Sorry for the long break everybody! I graduated and had a party for that! Went on a little trip to the countryside with friends! And now, at last, I'm back at my desk and ready to churn out some long overdue chapters.

Taglist posted separately! Comment on that post to get on it if you want!

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #fic: bridges burnt #fic: yard work

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Reader Receives PeggyNats Nudes Accidentally

Authors note: For my ease, all of the drabbles for the couples will have reader receiving the couples nudes in the same manner (Though circumstances do differ). I apologize if this becomes repetitive.

Authors note 2: accidentally went a bit long with this one. Though I'm sure y'all won't mind lol

Warnings: smut (eating out and mirror sex)

Word count: 1198 Part 2

Marvel Masterlist How They React To Masterlist

   Both women step out of their shared shower and grab their towels, beginning the process of drying off. Once their bodies are dry they step off the mat in front of the shower and move closer to the counters 

   Natasha lets out a chuckle as she tousles the small towel that's on her girlfriend's head, earning her a playful glare from the brunette, “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?”

   Nat smirks, “Don’t lie, you like when I’m playful”

   “Indeed I do, but that doesn't mean I won't tease you for it” Peggy admits with a smile and a wink that has butterflies erupting in Natashas belly

   Seemingly oblivious to the feelings she's caused the redhead, Peggy continues to towel off her hair, giving Nat the perfect view of her bare muscles flexing. Her ogling however doesn't go as unnoticed, but the Brit chooses not to say anything and instead waits for Natasha to make a move

   Nats eyes shamelessly take in every curve and crease of Peggy's body. From her toned shoulders, down to her solid abs and continuing down past her core, which she admittedly stops to admire a bit longer, until finally stopping at her thighs

   “Bozhe, pochemu ty dolzhna byt' takoy chertovski privlekatel'noy(God, why do you have to be so damn attractive)?” she mutters, already forming a plan in her head

  “Sorry darling, I didn't quite catch that”

   Nat hums and takes a step closer to the other woman, making her turn to look at her. The mix of adoration and pure hunger in the shorter woman's eyes has her own belly doing flips. 

   “You look good enough to taste….Can I?”

   Peggy's body reacts before she can even give a proper response and Nat watches in amusement as the brunette's legs automatically part to give her more room. Still, she waits for a verbal response

   “Yes…”

   Without wasting any more time Natasha drops to her knees in front of her girlfriend, and places her hands against Peggys thighs. She trails them over the muscles before moving them around to the Super soldier's firm ass, and gently squeezes as she brings her mouth to Peggys awaiting pussy.

   “Oh hell…” she breathes out as Nats tongue swipes through her folds

   Nat hums in response, sending vibrations through the other woman that have her clenching around her girlfriends tongue as she slips inside. Natashas nose bumps against her clit and she swears that if she wasn’t a super soldier, she'd be in need of some serious support to stay standing due to how good she's currently feeling. She's lost in that feeling of bliss for a few moments, until she gets a rather unexpected idea. Though she supposes it's rather time for her to be the cheeky one. 

   She reaches over to the counter where she had left her phone before the shower and grabs it. Now admittedly, she still doesn’t know how to use it very well, but she knows how to work the camera. And right now, that's all she's after. She opens the app and points it at the large mirror in front of her, moving around to find the perfect angle. 

   She knows that through all of this, Natashas eyes haven’t missed any of her movements. No matter the circumstances she never does. So before she takes the picture she looks down to confirm it's okay. The sight of the redhead with blown pupils and arousal dripping down her chin has a moan escaping Peggy instead of the question, but thankfully Nat knows what she intended

   “You can take one” she assures, her voice a bit raspier than usual either from lust or how long she's gone without using it while focused on pleasing Peggy, “Just make sure it gets sent to me when I’m done with you”

   Peggy nods and quickly snaps the pic before setting her phone back down on the counter, and Natasha eagerly reattaches her lips to her girlfriends clit. Without thinking Peggy buries her hand in Nats hair and pulls her face impossibly closer to her core

   “Oh god! Natasha!” she moans, cumming into her girlfriends mouth,and Natasha takes great pleasure in the fact that she was able to get her girlfriends strong legs to tremble

   She stays on her knees, gently bringing Peggy through her orgasm and cleaning up the mess she made until Peggy's grip loosens in her hair. She pulls away and sucks in a breath she hadn’t even realized she needed while her girlfriend looks down at her with a smile

   “Come here, love” she says, reaching to help pull the Russian to her feet

   Once standing Natasha finds herself being trapped between the countertop and her girlfriend as Peggy captures her lips in a searing kiss. Her lips part to allow the taller women tongue to enter and she fully relaxed as Peggys arms wrap around her waist

   After a few minutes of making out the older woman pulls away with an affection filled smile, “I suppose I should send you that picture, before I forget”

   “Oh, I wouldn’t let you forget about it” Nat says with a smile, but still lets her girlfriend go to retrieve her phone

   As usual Peggy fumbles to get the picture sent off but once it goes through she seems satisfied. Nat picks up her own phone to look at the picture and is also satisfied, for all of five seconds. Because that's when she notices her girlfriends blunder

   “Lyubov'(love).....you sent it to the chat with Y/n”

   Her eyes widen as panic and anxiety build inside her as she thinks about their teammate, friend and longtime crush seeing that picture, “Damn”

   In your room you hear your phone ding and decide that you've worked on paperwork enough today anyway. So you get up from your desk and plop down on your bed to grab your phone. You're quite happy to see that the notification is from the group chat with your best friends, who also happen to be a couple and a couple that you're madly in love with at that.

   When you open the message you're greeted with a picture of a slightly foggy mirror that has the reflection of a fully naked Peggy staring back at you, and though you know you should, you can’t tear your eyes away. Your eyes continue to travel further down and that's when you notice a head of red hair that obviously belongs to Natasha as her bare back faces the mirror. You swallow hard and take a deep breath to settle your nerves and to figure out just what the hell is going on, but before you can get your bearings another text from Peggy comes through

   I am so incredibly sorry, still figuring out this blasted phone

   I would like to say that it's not a problem, but truly I don’t think I’ll be able to forget what I’ve seen….and I'm not quite sure i even want to

   Natasha rereads your message three times to make sure she's reading it correctly as Peggy somehow gets out a reply, You don’t have to forget. 

In fact detka(baby), you can even see more.

#peggy carter #peggy x reader #peggy carter x reader #captain carter #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #peggynat #peggy x natasha #peggynat x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[werecreature-addicted]

Concept: Transmasc werewolf hunter who's been tracking the alpha for weeks, but unfortunately when he finds him it's the middle of mating season and the alpha is deep in rut. The hunter could fight back, but... he doesn't really want to, he's always been curious what it feels like to be bred by such a beast.

the deep guttural growl from the other side of the treeline sends a shiver down your spine. you'd been tracking this werewolf for weeks now, he'd been acting erratic the last few days. but that made him easier to hunt. you creep forward, slotting the silver bullets into your musket and carefully parting the leaves, silent as a shadow you peer into the clearing to take aim.

the werewolf is large, clearly a pack leader, he tilts his face up to the wind huffing the air, his breath coming out in puffs of white steam. his hips twitch and the motion catches your eye and your gaze falls, his cock is out, hard and bobbing, a bead of thick precum drooling from the tip. you can't help but gasp as it all clicks into place, all the odd behavior, the way he let himself out in the open, the werewolf was in heat.

the beast whirls around to look at you, the small noise catching his notice. Time seems to slow as you consider your choices, you could run, that was a bad idea you couldn't outrun this monster, you could shoot, you'd already lined up your shot, or... you could let it come closer. if it was in heat it probably wouldn't kill you, it just needed a soft hole to bury its knot into. you'd heard stories of people specifically going into the woods during werewolf mating season to get fucked by the monsters, you'd considered doing the same yourself a few times, now would be a good time to try it out.

You drop your gun and stumble backward, the werewolf pounces, closing the distance between you in two strides. then it's on top of you, pressing you down into the grassy earth. his sharp-clawed hands landing on your shoulders his head dipping to smell you, you wondered if he could smell how turned on you were. his heavy cock brushing against your thigh making you throb with desire. he was much bigger up close his prick was too, you wondered if he would even fit inside your pussy or if he'd care if he didn't.

"you tried to shoot me," he growls, you'd never heard a werewolf speak before. somehow you manage to find your voice and respond.

"but I didn't," you say.

"still," he says, running his tongue over your neck, "I think I'll punish you for that."

you definitely made the right choice in deciding not to kill this particular monster.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #werewolf x reader #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend

[jyuansgf]

nsfw content ahead. minors dni.

– how would they react if you ask them to be rough on you as much as they possibly can during sex? with jing yuan, gepard, argenti. + aftercare. cw: rough fucking, overstim, fingering. a bit of fluff on the aftercare. not proofread.

notes: thanks to my friend for terrorising me into doing this /j ^___^ jokes aside, i had fun writing this!! i didn't want to make this too long so i tried my best.. also my rules, tags everything about my blog is up on my pinned. make sure to read them byf please!! if this one actually gets attention more than i intended it to be, i'll make a part two and a genshin one ;___; 

jing yuan — 

i think jing yuan wouldn’t react any differently when you ask him to be rough on you. jing yuan has always been gentle with you ever since you two started dating—jing yuan can be either a gentleman in bed or.. just fuck your brains out? he’s actually anything you can ask for. he prioritises your pleasure and your comfort more than anything else. you want him to fuck you senseless? sure, you want some intense fucking? go for it, you want some gentle fucking as he whispers some sweet praises right next to your ear? or maybe both—he’s just the perfect man for anything. if you want him to bury your head on the pillows as he pulls on your hair and pounds you from behind, he’ll do it, only if you want him to. although he can’t deny the fact that he likes to see you fall apart on his cock, fucking you rough as possible while his fingers are buried deep inside you. as long as he can make you cum before he does, he’s happy. 

after care with jing yuan is one of the things that you two can always look forward to after having your brains fucked out—and trust me, that isn’t the only thing he’s good at. if he’s that good in bed, he’s definitely more than that when it’s after care. first thing he would ask you if there’s anything that hurts or did he go too far on you, he would even prepare a bath for the both of you (no fucking again, he says) and prepare some sweets or your comfort food after your intimate moment with him. ask him to give you a massage or tell you a random story about his childhood then he shall deliver! or if you just want to lay down on bed, he’ll make sure to clean you up if you fall asleep. he just wants the best for you, and he would be willing to give you more. make sure to thank him, the only thing he’ll ask for you is your love and embrace that he can always come home to.

gepard —

i think he would be a bit taken aback by your request, not that he doesn’t want to do it but he’s got some hesitation in him if he can go that far for you. he would be the type to ask you to show him how you want this to happen or set any boundaries, he thinks you’re someone who should be deeply taken care of in bed and he didn’t even think of this doing this with you at all, he does not want to hurt you. but he’s definitely willing to give it to you if you explain to him that this is not going to hurt you in the least.. it is your request after all. rough sex with gepard would definitely start with lots of foreplay, he’ll hesitate but once he gets the hang of it soon enough you’ll also be fucked dumb on the sheets, and he thinks that awakened something in him.. he doesn’t know that you’re the type to like this nor himself. he would often ask you if you can still take more or if you want him to stop, all his pent up frustrations or stress as a captain of belobog guards will all be poured into you that’ll leave you like a panting mess under him. don’t get him wrong though, he prioritises your release more than his, but forgive him if he accidentally cums inside you again and again.. poor guy can’t help himself at all.

after care with gepard would be a 50/50 situation for the both of you, give him time to recollect himself after because he thinks he’s not able to recover after that.. because of how good it felt. he’ll shower you with kisses and praises immediately after and would ask you questions if he did good or if it’s what you asked for. if you assure him that he did not hurt you at all, that’s the only thing he needs to hear. stay for a little chat with him in bed as you both calm down from it, he would start preparing a bath for you two as he changes the bedsheets, a little subtle kisses before going to sleep is how you two would end the night. he would really do anything for you, if you wanted him to. totally thinks he would be up to doing it again some other time. don’t tease him about it though. he’ll blush a bit if you knew how much he liked it, just a bit, he says.

argenti — 

one of the best gentlemen out there, who just aims to make you feel good no matter what. just like jing yuan, i don’t think he’ll mind it. as for someone who just wants to worship your precious body. but of course he would ask you first if you’re sure about doing it, and if you give him a sign that it’s okay, he doesn’t even hesitate on doing so. he’ll be the type to go slow on you at first, tease you until you’re ready to take him inside your warm cunny. then, the next moment you knew, he’s fucking you in such vigorous pace, would make you suck on his fingers as his lips traces over your body, and if he takes you from behind–he would even wrap his hands around your neck just to take a good look at your pretty messy face, he’ll still kiss your tears away even though he’s ramming inside your sopping wet pussy, he’ll switch by using his fingers, cock or his mouth just to overstimulate you. degrading words would definitely come out of his mouth but he does it in his own unique way (if you know, you know). he will definitely tease you but worry not, you don’t even remember how many times he had made you cum already.

aftercare with argenti? my love, you’re in for a treat. i’m sure we all know this man praises everything he sees, but when it comes to you as if he doesn’t run out of words. your afterglow with him would be definitely something, immediately would cradle you in his arm after making your legs tremble from overstimulation, he would press kisses all over your body and not a single spot would be missed. he would even press a chaste kiss on your clit after he cleaned you up, telling you were such a good girl for taking him or any words of praise that he could think of. the bath was already set up even before the two of you started, some bath bombs, scented candles, and petals scattered all over the floor. he’ll bring you some water or any snacks you prefer as he helps you clean up and after the two of you settles in bed, it would always ends with giggles and topics that the both of you share.. and of course, he doesn’t forget to praise you all over again, may he forgive you for falling asleep as he talks about how your body makes him feel good and how ethereal you are. it’s his way of making you fall asleep after all. 

#jing yuan smut #gepard smut #argenti smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x you #gepard x you #argenti x you #honkai star rail drabbles #hien writes ୨୧

[authorhjk1]

Oh could you do the dress short for sowon and for yuju?

https://www.tumblr.com/nsfwflint/706884294980894720/whats-this-a-sowon-outfit-that-finally?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/gfriendunited/738404907783192576?source=share

Bronze (Part I)

(Yuju X Kim Sowon X Male Reader)

You don't remember if Sowon was leaving the stage, or was about to perform, or get a reward or something. All becomes blurry and unimportant as you sink yourself into the depth of her tight snatch.

The Seoul music awards event is still being held, while you enjoy Sowon's body backstage. She is holding onto the black plastic sheeting, as she tries to keep standing up right.

"I love this dress."

You groan into her ear, making Sowon moan in response. She loves getting complements, while you use her. It gets her wetter, making it even more pleasurable for you to slide in and out of her.

While you were fucking her from behind, you had your hands on her waist, pulling her body towards you, whenever you thrust into her. Now, you let your hands travel up her sides and to her chest. The light fabric makes it easy for you to play with her tits without being able to see them.

"Yes! Just like that."

Sowon closes her eyes, backing her ass up towards you. She can feel your hips meeting her cheeks as you fuck her harder.

You freely grope her tits, after freeing them from their bronze prison. Her skin is smooth and flawless, just like her shoulders. You kiss the right one, while your hands knead her tits, occasionally pinching her nipples.

"Oh god! Your cock feels so good!"

Sowon can feel you bury yourself inside of her with every single thrust. Every thrust would make her stumble forward a little, if it weren't for you, holding onto her chest. Every thrust seems to hit just the right spot for her. Every thrust pushes her closer to the edge.

As you keep plundering her body for your own pleasure, Sowon starts to struggle against the impending orgasm. She doesn't want to cum here. Not like this. Not like an easy slut somewhere backstage. Not when anyone could walk around the corner and see what a free-use toy she is for you.

No one could know. No one. A thought rushes through her head. Yuju is here too. Her former member. Somewhere at the event. But as long as she doesn't see her...

Sowon's thoughts are interrupted by one of your hands, which is reaching for her clit. As you dive underneath the hem of her dress, only your hand on one of her tits keeps her standing straight. Most of her strength has already left her body.

And it seems like she will lose all of it, when you start to rub against her clit.

"Oh, please!"

Sowon doesn't know what she is begging for. For you to stop? For you to keep going? More and more pleasure overwhelms her. Her legs quiver, her pussy longs for your cum and her clit tingles with excitement.

"I didn't expect it to be so easy to make you cum here, Sowon."

It's the last nail in the coffin for her. She herself feels like a cheap whore by now. She has never had sex outside her apartment. Hell, even barely outside the bedroom. And now this?

That long feared orgasm now rushes through her. Her body trembles and her knees buckle as if she is about to fall. Her tight pussy tries to make you cum too. Its walls contract around you.

"Sowon unnie!?"

Yuju has never seen Sowon like this before, after she just walked around the corner on her way to take pictures.

The older woman's eyes are glassy and her mouth is wide open in a silent cry. Her fingers still hold on to the black plastic, while you finally come to a hold.

"Yuju. What are you standing there for?"

She hesitates for barely a second. Not because she is surprised to see you, but because she didn't know that Sowon would do something like this. Especially in public. Plus, reporters are waiting to take pictures...

But when she sees your cock, dripping with her unnie's juices, as you pull out of Sowon, she quickly walks over.

Sowon's cheeks are bright red as she looks over her shoulder, after a pitiful whine escaped her lips as you pulled out. She has never been this embarrassed in her life. Her dress a mess, her tits hanging out, someone fucking her backstage. She would never recover from this. At least that's what she is telling herself.

"Let me use your mouth."

Sowon gasps at your words. She wasn't aware that you know Yuju. And she most definitely didn't expect you to have the same rights over her body, just like you have with her own.

She doesn't feel so special anymore as Yuju, careful to not mess up her own dress, gets on her knees in front of you. She thought you used only her. That you were so in love with her body that you had to have Sowon anywhere anytime.

That illusion is shattered to pieces as she watches her former member wrap her lips around your cock, which is still glistening with her juices.

_____________

Hope you liked this one. Time ran out, so I wasn't able to get to Yuju's part. I'm going to add a second part to this though.

Stay healthy!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #gfriend #gfriend smut #sowon #yuju #authorhjk1shorts

[icallhimjoey]

Hey bestie just wondering if u could do a little comfort one shot of our joey, context:

Starting our period in the middle of work(specifically retail but like a 6hr shift) and coming home grumpy and wanting comfort from Joe?

Pls and thank you🤍

fuck off i can TASTE this request in my bones, what the FUCK - thanks for sending it in babes, love you, mwah 🤍 Wordcount: 1.8K

---

What Else?

"Babe!" Joe called when he heard the front door go, and he sounded all chipper.

All happy that you were home. Upbeat, and in a good mood. Dripping with joy. Excited to see you, and enthusiastic, and all eager and... no. That was wrong. That was all wrong.

You were none of those things and didn't have any patience for any of those things.

You silently debated ignoring him and slipping into the shower to melt yourself down the drain. Joe hadn't done anything wrong, but it just so happened that the universe had. It wasn't Joe's fault that he was part of that, but he was, and so, one plus one equalled no patience for Joe.

"Babe?" Joe sounded a bit more unsure when you didn't answer him.

"No." you just replied, your voice as flat as you could manage it still.

Joe was going to have to leave you alone for a bit. Not get too close or look you in the eye. You know, for his own safety.

But then you heard rushed footsteps.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

Joe stepped into the hallway and the boy looked like he'd just had the most leisurely day ever, which was wrong.

Wrong thing to look like.

You very much hadn't had a leisurely day, so no one else was allowed to have had one, either.

You were tired, and in a mood, and all your face wanted to do was frown, and if Joe knew what was good for him he'd wipe that stupid smile right off of his face as he closed in on you and curled his arms around your head to hug your face.

He pressed his cheek to yours, and you allowed it.

Just for a second, though.

The kiss he then pressed to your cheek was too much.

Wrong.

"I've got balled up toilet paper in my underwear." you made it sound like a warning. Like Joe was on thin ice, somehow.

"Oh..." Joe said in casual surprise before trying to get another wet kiss in that you leant away from as you frowned deeper and pushed him back.

He hadn't picked up on the cautionary advice you actually never shared.

Wrong.

"Don't touch me."

"Okay, sorry!" Joe comically stepped back and held both his hands up. "Can I touch you when your underwear no longer contains balled up toilet paper?"

You pushed him aside as you made your way to the bathroom.

"No."

Yes, he could. He better. If Joe wasn't going to be nice to you, you'd be even less fun to be around.

"No?" Joe double-checked.

Yes.

"No." You double-downed.

You disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, and you heard Joe chuckle.

Chuckle.

"Fuck you."

Joe was a bad boyfriend and you could fucking cry.

"Okay." Joe lightly scolded, having obviously heard the soft swearing from inside the bathroom, humour still evident in his voice from behind the door. "Take a second and come find me after."

You had to take a moment to breathe, eyes closed, nostrils flared. If you didn't, you'd lash out and say something you didn't mean. You meant the fuck you. Joe was an adult and could read the room and be gentle instead of laugh at you.

You heard him leave the hallway before you sighed deeply, turned on the shower, and let your brain go silent to the white noise of the water stream.

You washed your hair in the first minute, then sat down and decided you could just stay there for the evening. With your back against the tiles, you hugged your knees tightly, chin atop. Blanketed by the warm water and hidden away from everything else.

Perfect.

After about twenty minutes of sitting in the shower, you heard the door unlock and open.

Joe placed the butterknife he used to break in next to the sink and reached into the shower to turn it off.

"Come on, baby,"

Joe had to squat to help you up.

"Time to dry off."

You wordlessly let yourself be helped onto your feet, and then groaned slightly when Joe held up a big fluffy towel that you stepped into. He hugged you over it as you let yourself sink into him. Joe made sure to hug and squeeze you all over, shifting his arms up and down your body, and it was arguably the best way to get dry after a shower.

"My feet are sore," you complained, eyes wet. "I never want to work again."

"My poor baby," Joe cooed sincerely. "What else?"

"I've got a headache."

"You do?" Joe moved the towel to softly dab your face, careful gentle touches near your eyes, dabbing away shower water as well as the beginnnigs of tears.

"And I want to pull my uterus out of my stomach."

"That sounds messy." Joe kneeled as he dried your legs.

It was so devastating to be upset over a discomfort that you just had to accept, because you were born like this. It was unfair.

"I think I might've bruised my vagina with the toilet paper."

"Hmm," Joe looked, and it seemed fine, but what did he know? He had never had to fold up single ply toiletpaper enough times for it to resemble a pad.

"What else?" Joe's voice was smooth like velvet, no making fun. Just comfort.

"I want to commit a murder."

Joe dried the tops of your feet as you wiped at your face, hot tears of frustration now passing your lashline.

"People are the w-worst and they all need to die."

Joe leant back on his heels and looked up at you, brow creased in what appeared to be genuine sympathy. You thought he may say something reasonable, like, not all people, or whatever. But he didn't. Instead he just cocked his head to the side a little and asked,

"What else?"

That made you sob.

"I want..." you started, breath stuttering. "I want– I'm leaking." You felt the trickle of period blood and Joe was quick to swoop in, getting it before you could even look down to see the damage.

"What else, baby? What do you want?" he distracted.

"I want... chocolate. Sugar."

Joe dried you off completely, cleaned and wiped what needed cleaning and wiping and then found a tampon where you kept them.

"I want it to rain, and I want it to be autumn."

You were crying and being unreasonable and it felt great whilst simultaneously feeling the worst.

"Who designed the female bod-dy? Who th-thought of the concept of it? They got it wrong. It's all wrong."

Joe moved like he was going to help insert the tampon, a move that would've made you laugh had you been in a better mood. Now, it just made you take the cotton from his hands as you listed off more things that were wrong with the world.

"My stomach hurts, a-and I'm mad at the government."

Joe just listened. Helped you dress into soft comfortable clothes. Encouraged you to get all of your complaints out. It'd leave the world feeling lighter, he knew. He'd dealt with you on days like these before.

Was nothing new.

He couldn't right any of the wrongs, but he could be sweet and love you with a bit more care than usual.

When you eventually ended up on the sofa together, you were ready to lay down right on top, but Joe stopped you just before you did.

"Can't rub your feet like that. You said you had sore feet, right?"

The way that made your lip wobble made Joe easily accept you in his arms, the way you wanted to lay with him in the first place. He'd get your feet later.

Joe made space between his legs to accommodate you.

With his back comfortably pushed into the sofa cushions and you rubbing your face into the fabric of his T-shirt that covered his chest, Joe decided to ask just one more time.

"Hey," he whispered, wrapping a leg around one of yours. "What else?"

You took a moment to think, but came up blank.

There was nothing else left. You were still annoyed, and tired, and dealing with a dull pain in your lower stomach, but you'd mentioned all of those things already.

There was something you hadn't yet said though.

"M'sorry," you murmured, meaning it with your full chest, but voice only coming out small.

Joe smiled, and he could've made a small joke. Poked fun, just a little.

He didn't.

"I'm sorry I was mean."

Joe just kissed the top of your head

"Can you..." you began, moving a hand up to swipe your wet hair aside.

"Yea of course," Joe's hand found the hem of your T-shirt to pull up, revealing your bare back. You didn't need to finish the question for Joe to know what you were asking for as his finger tips started slowly trailing up and down your back.

Joe felt how you sunk into him more. Felt how your breath was just a strange inhale away from letting emotions seep through the cracks once more. How you burrowed into him even more than he thought was really even possible.

This was all you'd really needed since the moment you'd walked in.

And he'd tried.

He'd called for you.

Knew you'd had a long shift that day.

But you hadn't been ready then.

You'd needed to get a bunch of things out of your system first.

Joe knew.

Knew you.

Joe's tickling fingers felt like heaven, tracing up and down your back inside of your shirt. It was strange how you felt both heavy and light, limbs like lead, but your mind sort of floaty.

You sighed into him as you felt Joe's other leg close in on you, caging you in.

"I really am sorry. When I said no, before, when you asked if you could touch me, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean no."

"Hmm," Joe hummed, and swallowed everything he could say about how he knew you hadn't meant no. How he knew you. There was a reason why he knew how to easily break into the bathroom.

"That's okay. I get to touch you now, don't I?"

You smiled, embarrassed because of your own earlier childish lies.

Joe was a good boyfriend.

"I get to touch you, and hug you, and feel you, and," Joe strained his neck to press a kiss against your hairline. "And kiss you..."

You melted under his affection, and decided you had an important question to ask him as well.

"Yea?" you planted you chin on his chest and looked at your boyfriend, double chins and all, as he looked down at you, gaze warm and dripping with sweet honeyed love for you.

You tried returning it as best you could.

"What else?"

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @gri959, @hanahkatexo

@harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories

@phyllosilicate-s, @readergf, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @solzi1420

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x Y/N #joe quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #what else

[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda spoilers #charles rowland #crystal palace #edwin payne #meta commentary

[railingsofsorrow]

Emily Prentiss x reader with the song “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”.

They’re dating and an unsub takes reader (reader can be part of the BAU or not) and it’s like a switch goes off in Emily’s brain and she doesn’t hesitate to do anything to get reader back. When Emily gets reader back they see that side of Emily for the first time and is scared of her because they’ve never seen Emily like that. Bonus if unsub makes reader see what Emily does to get them back to try to make reader hate Emily.

who's afraid of little old me?

[emily prentiss x reader]

summary: Emily didn't know she carried so much rage inside of her until she saw bloody fingers around your neck and a gun pointed at your temple.   She should've seen it coming.

pairing: emily prentiss x f!bau!reader w.c: 2.9K warnings/content: case-related violence: blood, gun, gunshot wounds, fainting; flinching; a hint towards police brutality (implied); mentions of psychopathy (implied); language; discussion about committing murder to someone; crying; insomnia; protective emily; angst; fluff.

A/N: hello anon, here's your request. sorry for the delay, I hope you like it :)

[part of “the taylor swift anthology”] 

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[requested]

[press play]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ if you wanted me dead

you should've just said. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Emily.

. . .

Emily!

She woke up with a start. Hyperventilating and shortness of breath, her chest was tight like someone was pressing their hands on it. She couldn't breathe. Not until your hands were touching and comforting her in a way only you knew how to do. 

Then, and only then, would she inhale and feel the air entering her lungs.

But two days ago, it wasn't like that. Two days ago, she didn't have you by her side in bed, whispering her name and making her feel safe, which was what she should be doing to you. You were the one who had been kidnapped and held hostage for a week. 

Two days ago, Emily almost lost you.

━━━━━━━━━

[Two days ago]

Smoke came out of the car, blurring her vision as she tried to approach the vehicle. 

She had taken off her earpiece a while ago, bothered by her team's voice blaring through her ear begging for her to not move forward without backup. 

Right. As if that was such an easy task for her to do. Absolutely not. You had been taken a week ago by a woman they've been chasing for two weeks. A witness. She had been right under your noses the whole time and from the moment you walked into her house to get her statement, you'd become prey to her sick games. 

I should've seen it coming.

It's what echoed through Emily's brain non-stop. 

I should've seen it coming.

When you're on the job, you bottle up your feelings as much as you can in order to focus on cracking the case and saving lives. 

Hotch was stern and had that tough exterior that made people think twice before uttering a word, in fear of saying something wrong. He was an unexceptional Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit and an even greater friend to Emily. He taught her everything she knows about how to be a good leader and taking that spot that once belonged to him for years was a tough choice. Emily didn't know how she would ever measure up to Aaron Hotchner, but she did know how to lead given her experience in London and that was a start. 

Something he had told her once, about letting people in, because they were too much alike on that point.

“When those people say they care, it's usually because they do. When you're on the field, you're coworkers, they're your team. But off the field... you're allowed to let go. They're your friends, Emily. We all are.” 

Hotch was trying to tell her not to compartmentalize everything. He was advising her to trust her team, her friends, because she deserved it and she wasn't all alone anymore. 

She believed that.

She believed she wasn't all alone anymore the moment you walked into her life with a smile and a plate filled with delicious chocolate chip cookies made by you. That was your first day of work, the first day she saw you, the first time she heard your voice, and the first moment she believed in love at first sight. 

Emily would let go when she was with you. She would be vulnerable for the first time in decades. She trusted you with her entire being. 

The issue with people that bottle up their feelings, is that they're a ticking time bomb. They hold on for as much as they can, maintaining that harsh exterior and unlimited control, until that control is lost and the fire is set. It explodes. No warning. No previous announcements. It just happens. 

Emily didn't know she carried so much rage inside of her until she saw bloody fingers around your neck and a gun pointed at your temple. 

I should've seen it coming.

“Megan, let her go.”

Your eyes were locked to Emily's unwavering figure, you sought her eyes but she didn't meet yours, not even for a second. 

Your hair was matted with blood and dirt. The blood belonged to you, you've lost count of the fights you had pulled to get out of the hell you were put in. You were most definitely concussed as well, though the headache was barely a pang in the back of your head. Adrenaline was responsible for keeping you standing until now. Once it wears out, you're certain you will collapse in exhaustion and dehydration. 

“Why?” The woman whispered in your ear, causing shivers to went down your spine. Her cheek was rubbing against yours. She was asking you why she should let you go. 

You know one wrong move can send a bullet straight to your brain and you didn't feel like dying tonight. Especially not in front of Emily. 

You admired her professionalism on the field. She'd never deviate or hesitate, always certain about her next move. You were proud of her. Of who she became. Proud of how she let you in in her life. 

Emily rarely got mad. She would lean towards annoyance and pout when something didn't work out the way she wanted. She would be the one to calm you down when you were mad, actually. 

Now, holding a gun with her gaze set on Megan Gilbert, there was profound anger and determination set in her eyes. 

She wouldn't look at you. 

"Did you see the damage she did to my partner?" She tightened her hold on your tied hands, pulling at them causing you to wince. "Agent Prentiss, are you playing a hero or an assassin today?"

"Stop it," you hissed. You knew what she was doing and you weren't so sure Emily would hold herself back much longer. 

"I think your team will call it overkill, won't they?" Megan didn't even show any sadness over the death of her brother. She wasn't capable of showing emotion. "So many bullet holes in Adrian's head... Tsc tsc tsc. Are you gonna tell them it was self-defense? That's what you all do, isn't that right?"

"Shut up!" You attempt to hit her head with the back of yours, but you barely graze it before she pulls you forward, throwing you on the floor as you groan in pain because of having landed in your right arm in an awkward position because of your tied hands.

"There it is, you have her," Megan drawled out. You have trouble turning over with both your feet and wrists tied up, but you did it. Emily is still pointing her gun at her, her ponytail slightly undone, you see sweat traveling down the side of her face, but she's unmoving, certain. "Now what, Agent Prentiss?"

She looked at you for a glimpse of a second as you fell, taking a step in front of you to make sure Megan wouldn't try anything. She wouldn't, not with her there. 

"Emily." You croaked out, voice rough, begging.

The room was filled with a daunting silence. The outcome could only go two ways: Megan Gilbert successfully arrested or with a bullet wound to her head. Judging by Emily's current demeanor, you were leaning towards the latter option. You didn't want that. Not because you cared any bit for Megan, but for how that would affect Emily if she pulled that trigger. 

"Em." You called her name again, trying to free yourself from your restraints. Megan had clearly lost her momentary infatuation with you after noticing Emily's reaction at seeing you hurt and she was successfully using that in her favor. Emily was her target now. Not you. Which was why she didn't let go of her gun. 

Damn it, Emily. Look at me, don't do it. Don't do it.

"You have her," Megan repeated, tilting her head with her gun wavering around the room with a laugh. "But you don't really have her, do you? Not now, not anymore." Your breath was shallow and you didn't know how much more you were able to keep yourself awake. The adrenaline was starting to wear out. "Because what I did... it will haunt her forever. I left beautiful marks on her body so that she could look in the mirror and see them- see the art I've made. Which, honestly, was a favor. She wasn't that salvageable before-Fuck!" 

You flinch back as the loud sound of the gunfire echoed throughout the room.

“Don't you ever, and I mean, ever—” Emily said through gritted teeth, pausing in between each word. “... talk about her again.” 

You looked away as she sunk her shoe into the bullet wound on Megan's leg. A maniac laugh escaped from the woman's mouth. 

“Oh, that's nice. Have I hit a nerve?”

“Emily.” You leaned back with difficulty, coldness crawling up on you. You could barely feel your legs anymore. You could barely feel anything. 

Something seemed to click in Emily's mind, bringing her back to you. When she turned around, her heart sank and she felt herself immediately running towards you, calling out your name so you would give her some sort of response. Anything. Your eyes were shut, your clothes ripped and dirty, a nasty cut on your lip. 

“Hey, I'm here.” Emily brushed your messy strands away from your face, her eyes analysing the number of injuries you had. Megan was still provoking her by the time the team came in through the door, groaning as they pulled her up forcefully. You looked away at her bleeding leg, earning a sound of mocking pity from her.

"You feel sorry for me, pretty thing?"

Emily turned back to glance at someone and spoke with an icy tone that made you inch away a little bit. You weren't scared of her, never. But anything caused you to flinch and god did you need to lie down and sleep, just sleep. "Get her the fuck away from here right now." 

Your name was called repeatedly and you didn't understand why if you were right there. Until you understood the reason why everything was so dark and the last thing you felt was somebody holding your head before you collapsed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ the scandal was contained    

the bullet had just grazed 

at all costs, keep your good name

you didn't get to tell me you feel bad. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Em.” 

You asked, leaning against the wall. Arms folded across your chest. The living room carried the cold breeze from the night air, which meant that the kitchen window was open.

You know you closed it before going to bed, but the curled-up body on the couch told you who was responsible for opening the window.

“Baby,” you whispered, brushing her dark strands away from her face. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

She cracked one eye open, which made you sniffle a laugh. Then, she fluttered both of her eyes open, taking your hand that was caressing her cheek to intertwine with hers. 

“I'm not sleeping.”

You raised a brow. 

The corner of her lips twitched, “I can't fall asleep and I didn't want to bother you so I came down here.”

You shook your head, leaning down to kiss her forehead before standing up to close the kitchen window and then coming back.

"I told you." You perched on the edge of the sofa and she silently gave you space to come closer. You pulled your knees to your chest and squeezed next to her. Emily chuckled into your neck, wrapping her arms around your middle. "...to tell me when you couldn't sleep. I don't want you to be alone." You let out a sigh when she stayed quiet. "Em, you gotta talk to me."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ is it a wonder I broke? ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I scared you." 

With furrowed brows to express your confusion, you grab her hand to pull it to your chest. 

"What do you mean?"

"When I found you..."

You quickly turned around to face her. "Emily-"

"You were already scared and I made it worse. It-it wasn't my intention, but the only thing I could think of was finding you to bring you to safety, which is something that I failed to do before."

"No, Emily. You didn't fail," you said softly. Your heart breaking as a tear traveled down her cheek, "that wasn't your responsibility. You had no way of knowing what she was going to do. None of us did. Em, it wasn't your fault."

She sniffled, shaking her head. "I should have known better."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ then say they didn't do it to hurt me. . . but what if they did? ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at you. Her eyes were misty and you wanted more than anything to make her feel better. She shouldn't be crying because of you, that was the last thing you wanted. 

"Listen to me," you said, thumb grazing her jaw until it reached the back of her ear. She leaned into your touch. "I'm right here, that's what matters. What happened wasn't your fault, I do not blame you, you understand that?" You kissed each of her cheeks, tasting the salty tears that were dripping down like rainfall. 

You also felt the need to clarify something. "I never saw you like that," you admitted carefully. "You wouldn't listen to me and I was scared that whatever you did would affect you later. I didn't want you to do something you would regret. I wasn’t scared of you, baby."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ if you wanted me dead 

you should've just said.

nothing makes me feel more alive. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Emily leaned away from you and you felt as if you had been burned. She sat down, drying her tears with a shake of her head. Then, her voice echoed through the silence in the living room. 

"I should have killed her. That's what keeps me up, that's what's affecting me. I should have ended there so she couldn't hurt you anymore."

"Emily." You sighed heavily, your frustration growing. You turned on your back to face the ceiling. 

"She almost killed you," Emily said in disbelief. "How can you sleep when she almost-"

"But she didn't, I'm here." And who says I’m sleeping?

"But she almost did!"

"And you wanted me to live with the fact that you would have killed someone for me?" You snapped. "I wouldn't sleep soundly, I would've questioned every decision I've ever made if I had been responsible for that. You're being selfish."

Emily blinked at you, studying your face quietly before diverting her attention back to her hands on her lap. You didn't understand and as selfish as it was for her to say that, you didn't almost lose her, she almost lost you. She would have never forgiven herself if she wasn't able to find you in time or if she couldn't find you at all. Just the thought alone made her stomach churn. It would have killed her.

Emily picked at her nails, "Right." 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ so I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street 

crash the party like a record scratch:

who's afraid of little old me?

you should be. ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before you glanced down at her, gaze filled with sadness. "Can you please just... hold me?"

You didn't understand. But you didn't have to. Emily would do anything to protect you at all costs. She couldn't bear the thought of losing you or letting anyone hurt you. She promised herself that she would never let that happen again. She would make sure of that.

So when you asked for a hug, you were very much aware that she needed it more than you.

Your girlfriend's demeanor shifted to something softer, warmer, something you knew and needed. Not a revenge-seeking person. You didn't want revenge, you wanted to be in Emily's arms and help her get a good night's sleep for once. You wanted her to let you do that.

"I love you." She said in your neck, rubbing a hand across your arm tenderly. "I'm sorry." I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner, I'm sorry you got hurt and I didn't stop it.

"Just hold me." You curled your legs around hers, bringing her body impossibly closer to yours. "I love you too, Em." It was the last thing you said before darkness enveloped you into something calmer and lovely, instead of the awful nightmares from two nights ago. You knew that you were safe in your apartment, with Emily close to you and Sergio creeping around the living room as he noticed his moms’ presence in the living room. 

It was the first night since you came back home that Emily was able to sleep without jerking awake frightened, out of breath. The first moment she didn't fear almost losing you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ I am what I am cause you trained me

so who's afraid of me?

so who's afraid of little old me? 

you should be.❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#emily prentiss one shot #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #reader insert #criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #the taylor swift anthology #requested

[poppy-metal]

that therapy piece was so beautiful:( what if you DID end up divorcing or at least separating, art does end up joining patrick and tashi in their weird whatever the fuck, and we’re like. yeah. thought so. but little do we know that he’s an actual mess that can’t even function, let alone fuck, when he does manage to get it up he bursts into tears before anyone can cum, and as sad tashi and patrick are for their boyfriend they also really need to have a decent orgasm without some guy crying in the background so they have to like…parent trap you back together

the angst of this is so beautiful hold awn...... cause art WOULD be someone who wouldn't realize what an important force in his life you are until you're gone. in my mind, you and him knew eachother since you were kids. didn't start dating till a little before college and then you just..... stayed together. no breakups. hardly any fights. Its not like any love was lost between you two but, there was this kind of lack of...... well, fire. tashi and patrick lit apart of him up inside, and what you refuse to acknowledge is they kinda did the same for you two. you both kinda orbited around patrick and tashi in college, and similarly they orbited back around you. you just couldn't see your importance there - so you extracted yourself from that patricktashi part of your life to devote yourself to art, while he stayed in their lives because he cant live without the kind of passion they ignite in him. the anger, the jealousy, the excitement.

with you gone though its like...... hes floundering. you're so soft, is the thing. arts always depended on your softness. you dont hurt him. you dont make him angry. you're warm and gentle and he can rest his head on your lap and fall asleep like a baby fawn in the middle of the woods with no fear a wolf will come along and rip him apart. in a bad way, you're safe. in a toxic way, being with you is him choosing to not take a leap with patrick or tashi and feel anything uncomfortable.

but in a good way, you're his best friend. in a healthy way, you're his anchor. his north star. and usually thats seen as a bad thing, he knows, love is supposed to be passionate and scary but what about when he wants to be held and just at peace? you've seen him through everything and you stayed. he knows he can put his heart in your hands and you wont crush it. and he loves you for it. you're the most tender, beautiful thing that's ever happened to him.

so its like. those two needs. the fire and the passion and the softness and tranquility. and where art has messed up is seeing them in two different ways. he cant put all his scary, passionate emotions onto you in fear of rejection and ruining what you have. he cant depend on patrick or tashi completely either because he doesn't trust them with his heart like he does with you.

hes left you alone in that sense. because you need the passion too. you needed it from him for so long and maybe your part of the blame is never asking for it. for cutting tashi and patrick out of your life because you were too scared of it at the time. but the longer you spent with art, the more you craved it. the fights, the breakups, the makeup sex. all of that.

so when you leave arts comfort is gone. he thinks, well maybe its for the best. i can take a risk now, i can try this thing with tashi - and even patrick. but it doesn't feel right. the leap doesn't feel good. and he realizes its because it was a leap he was always meant to take with you, together.

all these things patrick and tashi do - he should've done with you. he should've fought with you when you pissed him off. he should've tried to be more sexually adventurous. when tashi kisses him all he can think about is how you should be here. he should've asked why you stopped talking to them - he should've pushed you - he should've - he should've - he should've -

he spends nights at their house because he cant stand being alone in the house you shared. in the empty fucking bed. he'll end up pulling one of your sweaters from the closet you forgot to take with you that still smells like you, vanilla and cashmere, and cry into it like a pathetic slob. hes miserable. he wants you back.

he wants you back so he can love you better. he wants to see you kiss tashi, kiss patrick, see you allow yourself to be consumed. and then he wants you to come to him and sink into his arms and onto his cock and look into his eyes and tell him you love him, so he can moan the words back into your mouth.

but he can't. because you left him.

#ask #what should this au be called #failmarriage au #LMAO

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Dolonia

Dolonia is defined as: a state of unease prompted by people who seem to like you too much, which makes you wonder if they must have you confused with someone else—someone flawless, selfless, or easy to understand from a distance.

Potter rolled over, pressing his too hot, too sweaty body against Draco's. And in spite of the fact that he was altogether too hot, that he was sticky, and still breathing too heavy, he couldn't find it in himself to complain.

"That was good," Potter said, trailing his fingers over Draco's ribs, brushing back and forth lightly and leaving trails of electricity shaking through Draco's chest.

He hummed, hoping it sounded aloof and noncommittal, like he wasn't trying too hard and didn't care too much about Potter's opinion, anything to convince himself that that was the truth.

"Do you want to order in some food from the Thai place down the street?" he asked, "or maybe we could go out? There's that diner a couple of blocks away, y-"

"You want to eat with me?" he asked incredulously, because fucking was one thing and occasionally sleeping in the same bed after being too tired to move made sense. But going out and eating together was something else entirely.

"Yeah," Potter said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "I'm starving, aren't you? We haven't eaten since lunch and that case was no easy thing to solve."

"Yes," he conceded, "That's what the celebratory sex was for."

Potter laughed, that bright, delighted sound that made it seem like nothing in the world was wrong. "Sure, just." He sat up, looking down at Draco, eyes impossibly large and impossibly green, "do you not want to get food with me? It's fine if you don't," he added, "just say so and I'll leave you to it."

"It's not that I don't want to get food with you," he said with a frown, staring at the mole on Potter's neck to avoid looking into his eyes. "It's just that you seem to be making this into something that it's not."

"What do you mean?" he asked, fingers carding through Draco's hair and brushing the loose strands back off his face.

He rolled his eyes, trying to make himself seem less vulnerable than he actually felt. "It's like you don't remember who I actually am sometimes."

Potter laughed, "Of course I remember who you are. You're my annoying, prat of a partner, too brilliant for his own good. You're the idiot that I come in to work with every morning wondering what sort of chaos my day is about to hold because even simple robbery cases turn into something that has years of ancestral battles and blood magic tied into it. You have very particular tea habits, and you like everything just so. I drive you mad but you still put up with me in your bed anyway."

"You're a good fuck, Potter," he said flippantly.

With a laugh, Potter leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, like casual affection was the sort of thing that they did. "I know you."

And that reminded Draco of where this had all started, "right, but it's like you don't remember all the other parts, all of the things that came before."

He shrugged, "Why would I? You aren't that person anymore, you don't believe those things, you've turned your entire life around."

"But I am still those things," he said, shaking his head. "Sure, I don't believe what I used to, but that doesn't change that I was raised in that culture, it doesn't change that I still go to have brunch with my parents at the manor every other Sunday, or that I know how to get my way in the Ministry, or that I'm an expert manipulator-"

"Hey," Potter said, cupping his cheek. "Hey. Relax. Take a breath," he said, lips pressing to the crease between Draco's eyebrows. "You're okay. We're okay."

"I'm don't-"

"I know who you are, Draco."

"But-"

He shook his head, "I know who you are. I remember all of the things there are to know about you. I know who you were, I know all of the work you've done to be different, I know who you are now. I know you," he repeated. "Just like you know me. It's what makes us such good partners in the office and out of it." He let out a soft self-deprecating chuckle, "Please don't think that you're the only one of the two of us who's spent the past fifteen years meticulously watching the other. I know you, Draco."

He frowned up at him, uncertain where this could be going then, if Potter consciously chose Draco with all of his faults and flaws instead of just for the convenience of it.

"I know you," he repeated, "and I want you." He shrugged, "I've just been waiting for you to be ready to hear it." He grinned at him, "So, what do you say? Dinner?"

And how could he say anything but yes?

#drarry #love #soft #fluff #short and sweet #prompts #askbox #hello everyone. the writer is not dead-she's just happy and loved #one shot