#i really love how they did them this season
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Speak for Yourself
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader
Authors Note: not edited woohoo, back to your regularly scheduled programming, planning to shut up now lol
Word count: 4.6k I think
Warnings: light cursing, AUS 24, not edited, inaccurate information regarding f2 seasons for the sake of the plot
Summary: You’d been around as long as Logan had, it was no time until one of the drivers developed a crush on you. Oscar had thought it was obvious you weren’t single. Guess not.
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Growing up, Oscar had always known he was quieter than a lot of his friends. He’d just rather keep to himself than be loud in his day-to-day life. Even Logan was considered loud when around the Aussie, and considering Logan was pretty quiet himself, that was impressive.
Everyone around him knew he preferred to be private. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share things with his friends and family, it was just that having his own life was more convenient.
One of the things he’d always been private about, was his relationships. He’d had girlfriends growing up, none of them really sticking around too long as the times changed.
But then he met you. 2018. Logan had introduced you as his best friend, Oscar decided not to be offended. You were the opposite of the Australian. You were loud and happy and Oscar was absolutely captivated by you. He’d asked Logan if he was allowed to ask you out and the American had just laughed with a nod, Oscar practically running over to you the second the race was over.
Of course, you were 17 so Oscar didn’t exactly have the emotional maturity to realize he was in love with you at the time. It only took him six months to say it out loud, though. Three years later and you two were still going strong, Oscars career only moving upwards as he raced through the 2021 F2 season.
Logan had been trying to find a way to get you a job with him the whole season. You’d just agreed, choosing to follow him around for a whole year as he moved through different series. He’d never have told Oscar but he’d needed your support more than anything. Just having to cycle through seats and races and series had drained him, you needing to practically talk him off the ledge multiple times throughout the year.
But you did get a few races with Oscar. Toward the end of the year, Logan got to race alongside his friend, meaning you got to hang out with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend, who was looking likely to win the entire championship.
“Are you nervous?” You hummed under your breath, your words echoing around the silence of the dark hotel room. You feel Oscar shift behind you, his arm tightening around your torso. The next morning, he’d be racing to win the championship, hopes and dreams laid out before him.
“I don’t think so,” he pauses, contemplating his words, “I think I was. Not anymore though, I’ve got you with me. That’s enough for me.”
You take a second to think through his words before a grin splits your face, skin heating up as the sentence sinks in, “I love you, Osc.”
The man in question shifts again, swinging his other arm around to wrap you tighter in his hold, “I love you too.”
You eventually fall asleep, letting the quiet of the room paired with the sound of the beating heart behind you, lull you to bed.
The next day, Oscar wins the championship, your loud yells sounding uncharacteristically quiet in the cacophony of screaming voices that surround you. He doesn’t sprint over to you or anything, big gestures not really his style. But he does make eye contact with you with a warming smile once he steps out of the car and that’s enough for you to know exactly how he feels in that moment.
Logan, though, is being very weird. You were sat in your boyfriend’s room, watching Logan practically wear a hole in the carpet with his constant pacing. He walked back and forth through the room with an absent mind and shaky hands. Throughout the year you’d been forced to follow him around, you somehow hadn’t seen him this nervous the whole time. Impressive considering he’d met about 100 very important people in the span of about two weeks.
“What’s your problem?” Logan’s eyes snap toward you, eyebrows shooting up as he looks at you with wide eyes.
“Nothing,” you roll your eyes at his quickly worded response, he didn’t seem to be in a too concerning state of being so you opted to leave him alone. He’d be fine eventually. He’d also looked about the same last week when the Dolphins had almost lost. He’d recovered from that too.
Your head instead turns toward where the door has just opened. You watch your boyfriend walk through, his gaze immediately catching on the weirdo pacing in the corner.
“Hi, Logan?” Oscar hums with a confused look on his face. Logans gaze locks onto the older Aussie, a stupid grin splitting the Americans face.
“Congrats, Oscar. Have a great evening,” Logan says, slapping his friend on the shoulder. The dumb grin is back on the blond man’s face, proving your earlier hypothesis that he’d heal from his paranoia relatively quickly.
Oscar, on the other hand, is surprisingly quick to take over Logan’s role as village weirdo, moving to rush Logan out of the room. Logan leaves, not before he gives Oscar a suspicious glance but Oscar just replies by shoving him out. You dismiss it as annoyance at the man for intruding, though your eyes do stay trained on the door Logan had just left though for more than a few moments.
“He’s so weird,” you mumble, a confused look on your face as you think back to your friends actions.
“Yeah, he is,” Oscar replies, rolling his eyes. There’s a second layer of agreement laced through his words, though you don’t catch the fact he might have a different reason to agree. You hum, still trying to decode why your friend had been acting like that, not even figuring the cause might be the man in front of you.
Oscar pulls your attention back toward him as he rests a hand on your face, gently tilting your head toward him, “I have dinner reservations for tonight. That place you’d talked about this morning.”
You smile, completely forgetting about Logan’s loser behavior, “Sounds great.”
Oscar grins before letting go of your face, the feeling of his grasp still lingering on your skin, “I’m gonna take a shower, then we can go back to the hotel.”
You laugh, pushing him away from you gently. Oscar stumbles dramatically, causing your laugh to get louder. You don’t notice how Oscar’s smile gets bigger in sync with your happiness.
“Go, then. You stink.”
Oscar pulls a face, offense painting his features, “Rude.”
You snort, rolling your eyes as he moves toward the bathroom, “Go, nerd!”
Oscar laughs a final time before finally stepping into the room, shutting the door behind him. You collapse onto the couch you’re sitting on, mind running with thoughts of the dinner you were about to go to and recent memories of the pure elation you were feeling after Oscar’s win. Content fills your body as you relax, faint sounds of the shower the only sound filtering through your ears.
A few hours later, you’re sat across from your boyfriend, laughing over your food while sharing anecdotes back-and-forth, laughs probably a little too loud for the really nice restaurant.
Oscar grabs the bill from the waiter, smiling politely as the man walks away momentarily. Oscar pulls his card out and slides it back in his wallet before putting it in his back pocket, moving to stand up afterward. You grin as he holds a hand out to you, helping you to your feet.
You hum warmly, tiredness spreading through you as you approached the conclusion of a pretty long day. The food had been delicious and the atmosphere was wonderful.
You had thought you’d be going straight back to the hotel, considering Oscar still had to race again tomorrow.
But as you exit, Oscar pulls you away from the car, interlocking his fingers with yours. You shoot your eyebrows up as you glance at your boyfriend, a tight smile on his lips.
“I thought we could go for a walk on the beach, maybe? It’s really pretty,” Oscar stares straight ahead as he says the words, gaze seemingly avoiding yours. But when you don’t answer for a second, he does glance over to you and you finally nod with a small smile.
“Sure, I’d love that.”
Oscar gulps, a big grin splitting his face. He looks back toward the sand a bit ahead of you, moving to slowly stroll down it with you by his side. You let out a relaxed sigh, head falling into his shoulder. Oscar had been right, this was very pretty. Lights lit up the sand around you, reflecting off the ocean waves that crashed toward you. The sun is starting to set in the distance, casting warm hues over the sky.
You do stop to pull of your heels and Oscar is quick to hold them in his hands, resuming in his passive, slow walk.
You make bare comments about how pretty your surroundings were, the sound of silence just not satisfying you. Although you do leave enough time between sentences to truly take in the calmness that comes with the ocean scenery, wave sounds in the silence and all.
You eventually come to a point some ways down the beach that has more lights than the rest. They form a little semi-circle that perfectly light up the area. Oscar pulls you to a stop in the middle of them and he turns you both to look out at the ocean. You swear you hear a sound from behind you but when you glance over, the beach is clear of anyone else so you turn back around to gaze toward the sunset.
The sun is about halfway down in the horizon and you find your gaze locked on the pink and orange that fades through the sky. You’re so focused that you don’t notice that Oscars grasp on you disappears. When you turn around to point out the colors to your boyfriend, a sharp gasp leaves your throat.
“Oh my god, Osc-!”
You cut yourself off with a hand over your mouth as you look down at your boyfriend, kneeling in the sand, a small box clutched in his hands.
You don't remember much of his speech, too busy trying to not start absolutely sobbing. But you do remember the last words that leave his mouth before the ring is slid onto your finger.
“Will you marry me?”
You nod quickly, hands shaking as Oscar stands up to put the ring onto you. You stare down at it for a few seconds as Oscars hands rest on your waist, waiting for your reaction. You look up, moving through the shock in your veins. You grasp his face in your hands and pull him down into an emotionally-charged kiss, feeling his arms wrap around you tighter.
He smiles into the kiss, head resting against yours once you finally pull away. You look into his eyes for a second before laughing and leaning away, tears dripping down your face.
“That was so wonderful, Osc,” you say through your tears, wiping your face with the back of your hand.
“I’m glad you liked it,” Oscar smiles before it drops slightly, a grimace pulling onto his face, “because Logan’s been in that bush the whole time.”
Your head whips toward the bush Oscars hand is outstretched toward, eyebrows furrowed as you search the greenery.
An incredulous laugh leaves your throat as Logan pops his head up, a sheepish glance in your direction being all he offers in response. You snort, grinning as you notice the nice-looking camera in his hands.
“Come here, idiot,” you smile, waiting for your friend to emerge from the bushes so you can share this moment with the man who’d been your closest friend for your entire life, “‘At least, now I know why you were acting like that.”
That was, of course, 2021. Now, two years later, you were still following Logan around. But now, with the Floridian entering F1, you had a contract and a paycheck that came with it. Anyone who didn’t know Logan would think you were his assistant. Which you technically were. But anyone who did know Logan, would instead refer to you as his paid-best-friend, many jokes about him paying you to hang around being thrown his way from fans and fellow drivers alike.
It was very convenient that your husband was entering F1 at the same time as the man who employs you, opening up so many more chances to spend time with Oscar.
No one really questioned Oscar’s continued presence in the Williams garage. Everyone knew that him and Logan had always been close so when he was spotted in the white and blue, no one batted an eye.
Not even his new teammate, who claimed to know the Aussie better than anyone else on the grid. Lando just assumed Oscar was really eager to see his friend every day. Lando didn’t consider that he saw Logan every weekend anyway and that maybe the speed with which he got to Williams might be a little too fast to just be for a close friend.
No one from Williams questioned it either. They all knew that Logan and Oscar had grown up as friends. So when Oscar seemed pretty close to one of Logan's closest friends, they didn't question it. It only made sense.
You didn’t hang around the rest of the grid very often during Oscar and Logan’s first season. You didn’t really know any of the other drivers so you, instead, spent all your time in Williams, Alex and Lily becoming fast friends of yours.
But in 2024, you started to come around more, choosing to venture out of the garage and talk more to the drivers you’d met over the past year. One of the garages you had started to frequent more was McLaren, your husband quite excited to have you in the Papaya as opposed to your usual blue.
You went to the garage purely for Oscar. But he wasn’t always the only driver hanging around. The papaya garages were often frequented by drivers from other teams. Specifically, the Ferrari drivers loved to make their presence in the garages known.
It was the Australian GP, Oscar’s home race and only the third race of the season. You’d only came over to McLaren a few times over the past three races, but you were currently occupied with Logan after his car had been taken away so you were nowhere to be seen.
Oscar was sat with his teammate in hospitality, talking about pretty much anything as they waited out the few hours they had before they had to do anything.
“Lando!” The voice of a loud Spanish man has Oscar’s face splitting into a grimace. He turns his head to see none other than Carlos Sainz making his way toward the pair in papaya, Charles Leclerc in tow behind him.
Lando grins beside him, eyes lighting up as he looks toward his friend. Lando glances down toward his teammate to assess the look on the Aussies face before he stands up and clasps Carlos on the shoulder, “Hey, Carlos!”
Oscar looks away from the two of them, gaze landing on Charles who stands awkwardly to the side. Oscar catches his eye before gesturing for him to sit down in one of the free chairs around the table the McLaren boys had been occupying . Charles smiles gratefully, happy to break the strange stance he’d been stuck in previously.
After successfully bro-ing it out, Lando and Carlos eventually sit down at the table, chairs sliding against the grown loudly as they shift around.
“How are you both feeling about the race?” Carlos asks, eyes shifting between Lando and Oscar, though his gaze does stop on the Brit.
Oscar, though, pipes up to answer the Spaniards question before Lando can, “We feel pretty good. It’s a home race so that’s always great.”
Carlos hums absently, eyes seemingly searching for something behind Oscar. Oscar glances behind him quickly to see if there’s anything worth mentioning but is met with nothing but Papaya shirts. He turns back around. Weird.
Lando seems to notice Carlos’ weird behavior as well, his eyebrows furrowing as he glances around as well before looking back to the Spaniard, “You looking for something, Carlos?”
Carlos’ eyes snap back to the curly-haired man, heat rising to his cheeks as he realizes he’s been caught, “No, nothing.”
Charles snorts from beside his teammate, sticking a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the laugh threatening to leave his throat. Carlos glares at the Monegasque lightly, only making Charles laugh harder before Carlos leans forward to explain.
“Where is that Williams girl?” Carlos asks with a small smile and a confused look passes over Oscar’s face. Who the hell is he talking about?
Charles seems to catch the matching confusion on the McLarens face, rolling his eyes at Carlos’ blunt delivery before starting to explain himself, “Carlos in love with that girl Logan hangs around with. The one that’s always in McLaren for some reason.”
Carlos nods in agreement, leaning back in his chair with satisfaction. Oscar feels his stomach drop.
“I’m not in love with her, I just think she’s really pretty.”
Charles laughs, eyes going wide in response, “Carlos you look for her every time we’re in this garage. You’ve been asking to come over here just so you can see her.”
Lando gasps dramatically, a big grin painting his face, “And here I was, thinking you’d been coming around so you could see me!”
The other three drivers at the table laugh but Oscar stays quiet, teeth digging hard into his bottom lip. An unreasonable annoyance filled him at Carlos’ words, eyes rolling as he watches the Spaniard go on about his love for you, Oscar’s wife.
“Why’ve you never gone to Williams to look for her?” Lando interjects after a few more seconds of mindless rambling from Carlos about you. Carlos glances sideways at Charles, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
“Never wanted to bother Logan, I guess. We’re not really friends,” Carlos shrugs.
Lando tilts his head, shaking it slightly, “I’m sure Logan wouldn’t mind.”
Oscar has to stop himself from scoffing at Landos words. If only he knew how much Logan would mind.
“Yeah, I’ll go over there in a minute. Maybe I’ll actually shoot my shot this time.”
Oscar stands up suddenly, chair screeching against the floor as it pushes backward.
“Where you going, mate?” Lando goes to ask but Oscar’s already practically ran away, feet carrying him quickly toward the Williams garage.
The three drivers he’s left behind look between each other with confused faces, all having no idea what made the Aussie leave so quickly.
Oscar, though, makes it to Williams in record time. Running between employees and the like, weaving his way to Logan’s room. He slams the door open, ignoring the strange glances from Williams employees around him.
He pauses as he sees the sight in front of him, Logans head resting heavily in your lap as you run a hand through the blonds hair. The dejected look on Logans face is enough to make Oscar grimace and move quieter as he enters the room. You glance up with the concerned expression still painting your features. Logan doesn't look up, eyes closed tightly and pure distaste clearly present.
“Hey Osc,” you practically sigh, eyes shifting back down to Logan for a moment. Only after hearing your words does Logan open his eyes, looking over toward the Aussie.
“Hey guys,” Oscar says carefully, his previous reason for rushing into Williams now momentarily forgotten.
Logan mumbles under his breath and closes his eyes again, nodding at Oscar before he does. You pat his head softly and he rolls over, moving his head away from you so you can stand up and talk to Oscar.
“Whats up?” you try to smile through your obvious grimace and Oscar smiles painfully in response.
He nods his head toward Logan who's now lying face-down on the couch, “Is he okay?”
“No, not a great weekend with the whole chassis thing,” You reply, trying to keep your voice low enough so Logan doesn't hear.
Apparently you weren't quiet enough as you hear a muffled shout echo through the small room.
“Im fine!” You can barely hear through the couch cushion but he’s just audible enough.
You shake your head at Oscar, sighing deeply, “Did you need something?”
Oscar nods slightly, grasping your hand in his and pulling you out of the room and away from Logan. Not that Oscar didn’t want to support his friend but he honestly didn’t know what to say. And he was obviously okay with you leaving or he wouldn’t have rolled away from you.
“Do you wanna come back to McLaren hospitality?” Oscar asks, dragging his finger over the wedding ring sat proudly on your ring finger. You notice his attention on the ring and tilt your head slightly.
“For any specific reason?”
Oscar shakes his head innocently, trying to take any look of suspicion off his face. Though it seems you know him too well as you raise an eyebrow and tilt your head, not believing his story.
Oscar rolls his eyes, admitting defeat, “Fine. Carlos was talking about how in love with you he is and I was getting annoyed about it.”
You laugh slightly, not expecting Oscar to claim that the Spaniard was in love with you. But when you see the blush on your husband’s face, you grin softly and pull him into a hug, grasping his face in your hands, “It’s okay, Osc. I only have eyes for you, darling.”
Oscar blushes harder, letting out a small laugh as you pepper his face with kisses and he reaches up a hand to bat your face away from his.
“Come on, let’s go show Carlos what he can’t have,” You laugh, marching forward with Oscar’s hand wrapped tightly in yours. Oscar laughs, following along behind you. But he’s secretly grateful you were willing to shut Carlos’ pining down, not sure if he could take Carlos, of all people, talking about his crush on you for any longer, “Even if he’s not there I’ll still get Logan something to eat.”
You reach the McLaren hospitality quickly enough, garnering some strange looks from people around you as they see your clasped hands. But you pay them no mind, more focused on getting to the food. Oscar drags along behind you, watching as you grab two plates of food, careful not to spill as you balance the plate for both yourself and Logan. Oscar untangles your fingers from his so he can grab one of the plates out of your hand, leading you toward a table so you can eat the food you’ve grabbed for yourself.
Oscar sits across from you as you start to pick at the food lazily, stabbing a lone grape with your fork before bringing it to your mouth. You seemed to have stopped caring about the potential Carlos sighting but Oscar was on high-alert, eyes trailing over the room.
His eyes catch on a scrap of red fabric over your shoulder and he moves his chair slightly closer to you, praying the Spaniard doesn’t catch sight of you. Oscar moves his knee to knock against yours and you smile warmly through the bite of watermelon you’d just taken.
You sit peacefully for a few minutes, eating quietly as Oscar seemingly keeps watch. You don’t ask him why he couldn’t just tell Carlos you were married himself but you don’t question his motives. Men were confusing.
Both of you are surprised when a figure walks up to stand above you. You glance up and see a grumpy-looking blonde man with tousled hair and a disgruntled face looking down at the two of you, exhaustion clear in his eyes.
“Hey, lo. Gotchu food,” You say, sliding the plate toward the American. He hums, glancing around the room. Oscar watches as he sees Carlos and then looks back, glancing between the Aussie and the enemy he had decide to make today.
“Brb,” Logan mumbles with crossed arms, slinking off to a destination you can’t see. But Oscar can, and he watches as his friend slides up to a certain Ferrari driver, his usual shy attitude abandoned due to his already-shit race weekend.
Oscar takes the opportunity to fully move his chair next to yours, grasping your open hand in his, passively fiddling with your wedding ring. You roll your eyes but relax your hand in his, allowing him the chance to be as possessive as he wants.
“Hey, man,” Carlos says as Logan reaches him. Really good timing actually, he’d been wanting to talk to him about you.
Logan blinks through his tiredness, frowning at the older man, “Hey, Carlos.”
Carlos grins, deciding to stick through the poor attitude from the blonde man in front of him, having no idea just how poor this was about to go for him, “I was actually going to ask you about that friend of yours. The pretty American one you’re always with.”
Logan blinks again, glancing back toward the papaya polo sat next to you before he looks back, “Y/N?”
Carlos shrugs, smile unfaltering, “I guess so, any way you could get me her number?”
Logan chews his cheek a bit, eyes quickly switching between the ground and Carlos’ face, “Nah, man. She's taken.”
Only then does Carlos’ face falter, his eyebrows furrowing slightly with confusion, “Really?”
Logan holds back his laugh, rubbing at his eyes as he starts to lose the tiredness he'd previously had, “Yeah, yeah. Married actually.”
Carlos’ head snaps toward the Williams driver, mouth opening slightly as he shakes his head, “No way, mate. You’re joking.”
“I don’t think I am,” Logan smirks, head tilting toward where you’re sitting, “You could ask her but I don’t think he’d let you get within 10 feet after this morning.”
Logan watches as Carlos’ gaze lands on you and your husband, mouth gaping as he catches Oscar’s hands fiddling with the ring on your finger, “Shit…”
“Yeah, shit indeed,” Logan nods, starting to walk away and leave the Spaniard to revel in his shock, “Have a good race, Carlos. I won’t be seeing you out there.”
You finally look up to see Logan sit down across from you, sliding his own plate over to himself and starting to munch down on the food you’d picked for him.
Oscar raises an eyebrow as he catches the incredulous look on Carlos’ face, “What was that about?”
“Just told him you’re married,” Logan mumbles through a mouth full of strawberries, chewing passively, “Had to spell it out for him, been dropping hints for months.”
You glance toward you friend with confusion painting your face, “What do you mean?”
“Yeah, I’ve been scaring him off from Williams since last October. Don’t think he even realized I was doing it on purpose.”
You and Oscar catch eyes, small grins breaking out on your faces as Logan continues to stare intently at his snack.
“Thanks, Logan,” you smile, happy to hear about your friends committed defense of your marriage.
“Don’t thank me, I’m still in a bad mood,” he says as he stabs a grape violently, biting the green sphere with a crunch.
Oscar hums, pulling you into him and resting his head on top of yours, eyes falling closed momentarily, “Sure, Logan. Eat your food, you’ll feel better.”
Logan just replies with a stab of his fork and you laugh, relaxing against your husband behind you, grateful for the great friend you’ve got in front of you.
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Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119
#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x fem!reader#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri fluff#scheduled#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you
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SOLUTION.
Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words
SORRY SERIES LINK.
warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.
okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.
Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?
Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.
Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.
[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left
Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.
This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.
It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.
drip drip drip. Said the faucet.
[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.
A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.
Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.
This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.
[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.
[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.
She did know that the sink was leaking.
She also knew her period was two weeks late.
That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.
[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.
She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.
“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”
[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.
Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”
“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.
Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.
She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”
“Don’t say that—“
“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.
[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.
Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”
All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.
“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“
“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.
Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.
Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.
When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.
“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“
“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.
Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”
His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.
“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”
“…Glad you won, then.”
“I said if I hadn’t…”
“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.
“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.
[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”
“Ancient, probably.”
Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.
She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.
[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.
“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.
Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.
[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.
“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”
[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.
The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.
“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.
Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.
She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”
Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.
“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”
“You’re bad for me.”
“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.
Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.
“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“
“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.
“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.
She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.
A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.
[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.
She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.
Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.
Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.
She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.
[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.
Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.
“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.
Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.
“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.
Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“
“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”
“Do you think you are?”
[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.
“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”
Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”
“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.
“You’re stupid.”
Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.
And she was pregnant.
Two blue lines stared at them.
“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.
And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.
“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.
Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.
“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.
“Art…”
“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”
Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.
“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.
She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.
“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.
“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.
Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”
“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…
“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.
Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”
Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.
Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:
FINALLY START FAMILY
NATURAL/EASY START
SEASON ALMOST OVER
[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS
DREAM COME TRUE??
WILL BE GR8 PARENTS
[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:
OLYMPICS??
ART’S NEVER HOME
EXPENSIVE
SMOKING/COFFEE
CHEESE JEALOUS?
TOO YOUNG!
Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.
Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.
“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”
[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“
“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.
“That would worsen the problem. No money.”
“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“
“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”
“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”
The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”
“I want to keep it too, but—“
“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.
“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”
Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.
[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.
“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”
“Anything.”
“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”
“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.
“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”
Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”
“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”
“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.
“I love you.”
“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.
At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.
[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.
TAGLIST (ask to join):
@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce
apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#challengers movie#challengers#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#sorry series#father art
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vienna — CL16
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
warnings: smut, some sad stuff, a prequel to “when it rains it pours”, swearing, just finished this after starting it a whileeeeee ago, google translated french (soz), this is old (as in mid 2023 old), not a good representation of a relationship, not proofread!
synopsis: what really happened the night you bumped into charles at the monaco grand prix [6.0k]
a/n: im backkkk bitches!! jk i don’t wanna jinx myself but who woulda thought it would a charles fic that got me out of my slump. anyway, please be nice, i haven’t wrote in like 3 months properly 😭😭
you stayed true to your words, keeping your distance from charles.
you hadn't seen him in months, not since you'd left him in the kitchen that night. you hadn't been temped enough to check how he was doing in his races or where he was in the standings, not once.
and your friends knew better than to tell you, so whilst you could see they were obviously celebrating something, wether it was a win or a podium, you kept yourself away from anything relating to him.
the way he looked at you when you were in the kitchen was still burned into your memory, the smug and almost mocking expression on his face, as if he didn't believe the words that you told him, as if he knew you'd come straight back to him.
you told yourself after that, that you'd be stronger the next time, that you wouldn't give into his glances or taunting looks he gave you. that you were stronger than him and whatever gave me was playing.
although all it took was a win at one of the most iconic circuits on the calendar to break down the walls you'd so carefully built up.
you'd inevitably learned through a mutual friend that charles was a contender in the championship, that ferrari had been having a 'wonder season' with their monegasque golden boy, a miracle was what the media was calling it. a potential to win the championship since they last did in 2007.
monaco was the next race around the corner, the exclusive circuit de monaco one of the hardest to get tickets to, even for the countries natives, although it did help living basically around the corner from it.
whilst you were with charles it had became some what of a tradition to attend monaco with him, every year of his career, you were with him for your home race. despite the rumours of the curse, wether you being with him was the cause, it never stopped you from going.
you'd ruled out attending this year without a second thought, letting your friends know that too, pierre being the one to offer your entire friend group paddock passes for the three days.
it took days of your friends grovelling, your many no's and them constantly assuring you that the thousands of people attending would be the ones taking over much of charles' attention, before you finally gave in and agreed.
after all he was the home boy, everyone loved him, men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him, and he revelled in knowing that.
monaco had a special way of bringing out the other side of you, the partying side that never seemed to be able to sit down or the side of you that made the bad decisions, that wouldn't listen to anyone unless they were putting a drink in your hand.
it was a 50/50 coin toss on which one people would get.
the first two days had gone by in a blink of an eye, everything running just as smoothly as your friends had promised and you were actually having fun, the most shocking thing of all.
you had somehow managed to avoid him the entire weekend, and you were about to go three for three when charles had found you watching over the alpine mechanics as they worked on the final preparations of the race day car.
it was obvious to anyone he had came around looking for pierre, although he couldn't say that he was disappointed to see you instead. "was wondering where my number one supporter was," his voice was like nails on a chalkboard for you, a graining sound that wouldn't leave your head and you hated how much you missed it. you chose not to acknowledge him as he spoke, continuing to look at the mechanics and even pretending to understand the data on the screen. "shame you're not in the ferrari garage, we used to have so much fun in there."
"fuck you, charles." standing up from the chair, you moved to walk past him the ferrari driver blocking the way as he tilted his head down towards you. he opened his mouth to say something before an engineer from the ferrari garage found him, needing him for something with the car.
charles removed the cap from his head, placing it on yours, and it felt so right that you wanted to shoot yourself for how much you loved it, he laughed lightly at how quick you were to take it off again. "i'll find you after the race."
just as you'd anticipated, the race too wasn't too action filled, but you couldn't lie and say you were paying it all your attention, the rare occurrence of a red bull strategy error allowing the ferrari's a larger gap to a 1-2. a mclaren crashing into the barrier had brought out a safety car with just under 10 laps to go.
with only 5 laps, it was inevitable who the winner was, the winner who was about to win the monaco grand prix, and break his home race curse in one go.
fans and employees alike gather around the podium, the winning car followed by second and third place displayed in front of them. the drivers came out one by one, celebrate with their teams because after all they're on the podium of the most presidential grand prix, each of them standing at their designated step before charles, accompanied by the cheers of his home crowd, took the top step.
soon they were each awarded their trophies before the monegasque anthem rung out to the crowd. charles stood proud as he took everything in, he had beat the curse and won at his home track.
you watched from afar with your friends mixed in with the alpine engineers and other workers, trying to push down the proud feeling you have bubbling inside of you. each celebrated as if their own team won, it seemed that truly everyone had a soft spot for the ferrari man.
with the majority of celebrations over the fans began to leave the track, all of you going back to your apartments to get ready for what inevitably was going to be a long night of celebration.
you couldn't help the memories flashing in your head of the pictures shown to you just over two years ago, charles' hand on the brunette girls hip as his mouth was on hers. a couple others in the background jeering them on as though it was something to celebrate. you hadn't gone out in monaco since, everywhere reminded you of that.
however, you shook the thoughts from your head. tonight, you were going to go out with your friends tonight, get drunk, then end up back in your own bed.
people were spilling out of the clubs onto the street, different songs blaring out of each one. your friends had settled on one you’d been going to since your teens, the purple strobes hitting you as you got in, memories of every bad decision you’d made in there coming back to you, taunting you.
it was just shy of full, people on the dance floor with a drink in their hand as they danced up against someone, spilling whatever filled their glasses. guys sat in booths with girls around them, their company lasting as long as they had money in their wallet.
a drink was quickly placed in your hand, your simple order one that your friends were used to by now. you were in your usual spot, the leather seats still pristine as the day you first sat on them when one of them had spotted pierre in another booths, the frenchman calling you over before making room for all of you.
one drink quickly turned into two, then three before you were both finally tipsy enough to get to the dance floor, this was the side of you that your friends loved to see, fun, carefree, living in the moment. your body pushed up against someone behind you, long gone were the thoughts of the monegasque who’d plagued your life, the feeling of his hands firmly on your hips had you pressing further back.
his grip on you was enough to keep you to close to him, his breath hot on your neck before his lips began to explore your exposed skin, open mouthed kisses littered across your collarbone. leaning into his touch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing the man closer to you, giving into the feeling.
the alcohol flowing through your veins built up the courage for you to turn to look at him, a small gasp falling from your lips as your eyes met the familiar ones of pierre, looking down at you with his arm wrapped around your waist, unapologetically looking over your body. "you know he'd be mad if he saw us."
you hated that you still let him have this control over you, that with another man wrapped up around you, you still thought about how he felt. despite the noise, pierre could hear your words clearly. his lips continued up your neck from your collarbone, reaching just below your ear, teeth lightly grazing your earlobe. "good thing he isn't here," the frenchman placed a small kiss on the soft skin. "charles doesn't know what he's lost."
every inch of your body shouted to give into him, to be the bad guy and fuck his best friend with no remorse, after all where was his remorse when he’d left you in that kitchen, when he’d been in another womens bed?
but even then, something stopped you from letting yourself fall into pierre's arms, something still held you back. nothing could explain what prompted you to step away from him, offering him a quick apology before going back to the booth, the warmth of his lips a long forgotten feeling.
at that point you hadn't even wanted to continue with the night, ordering one last drink before you told your friends you were ready for an early night, an early night for monaco anyway.
the walk from the club was barely 10 minutes to your apartment, the times when you were thankful to live in a small country. you rounded a corner, mimicking the cars that had been on the track hours prior, feeling your body hit into another's as they quickly apologised.
"are you everywhere?" you groaned seeing who you had bumped into, the very person who you wanted to see least in that moment.
charles rolled his eyes at your comment. "monaco is a small place," he looked behind you waiting to see your friends following suit, frowning slightly when he saw you alone. "where's everyone else?"
“dancing and drunk." you gave him a short answer, moving past him to continue home when you heard his footsteps behind you, cursing under your breath, your patience was running thin. "is there something you need, charles?"
"what kind of gentleman would i be if i let you walk home yourself drunk?" scoffing at his choice of the word gentleman, you started walking away from him, already aware there was no hope of him giving up, you’d learned over the course of your life to just accept he did things at his own accord.
the rest of the walk to your apartment was in an awkward silence, although you could see charles was desperate to say something, the way he’d take a breath as if he was about to speak before holding off, and you’d been so close to screaming at him to just get it out before you saw your complex entrance.
"why did you want to walk me home?" the question had been eating away at you; lingering in your mind the whole time he was besides you, needing to know the answer.
"i told you, i don't like the idea of you walking home by yourself." charles spoke nonchalantly, as if it was a daily occurrence for him, seeing his ex girlfriend who he’d so delicately fucked up.
at his answer you let out a sarcastic laugh. "we both know that’s bullshit charles, you don't care about anyone who's not you," you eyed up the monegasque, searching his usually poetically handsome features for any reaction. "you never did care."
that struck a nerve in charles, his voice raising slightly as he spoke. "of course i fucking cared about you, i wouldn't have kept you around just so i could fuck you."
it took all your self restraint not to slap him in that moment, instead hoping the glare you were giving him was enough to kill him. swinging the door to your complex open you heard it slam behind you, wishing that it closed before he was able to get inside.
unfortunately though, your wishful thinking was just that and you could hear his footsteps just behind yours, echoing against the tiled walls, ringing in your ears like a sirens song. "go celebrate charles."
"i want to talk to you,"
"too bad." you replied, throwing him a bitter smile over your shoulder as the door to your apartment unlocked.
"just give me five minutes." no part of you wanted to turn to look at him, knowing the second you saw his eyes you would cave in. ultimately though, he didn’t even need to look at you before you conceded.
the door was opened just as quickly as it closed, charles' eyes scanning the apartment, which looked just as it had whilst you were together. in fact, you still had the miniature helmet he wore for his first win in spa, and the smaller replica trophy from his monza triumph, keepsakes of his success that you hadn’t bothered to throw away.
"you kept them?" you could hear in his voice he was surprised, charles had half expected to see them in a burning fire before he ever saw them in the same position on your mantelpiece.
your eyes drifted to where he was looking, a lump threatening to grow in your throat, part of you forgetting they were even there since they’d become a constant in tour apartment. "i haven't had a chance to clean, not been at home much recently." you would be lying if you said you weren't missing monaco, after all it was your home, your families home and your friends home.
charles silently nodded at your answer, the apartment falling into a deafening silence as you mulled over what to say next. "so anything new with you? any boyfriends?" he prepared himself for the inevitable 'yes' that you would answer with.
however that never came, shaking your head no as you questioned him with a confused look, still not entirely sure on why he was still standing in your apartment, or why you were even entertaining him.
"really? I didn't-"
“charles, is there something you actually want?" you cut him off abruptly, with him you never did have the same patience you did with others in your life.
"i told you i wanted to talk to you," you responded by raising your eyebrow as if to say 'about?' "pierre told me you went on a date and i wanted-"
you were beyond mad at this point, not only had he essentially followed you home but also had the audacity to ask about a date you had. "fuck off Charles, and tell Pierre he can fuck off too."
“so, did you?”
you owed him nothing, you knew that, he knew it too and yet something inside of you wanted to let his know, still felt obligated to tell him. "yes charles, i went on a date, and i'm sure you'll be happy to know it was shit."
"why? what happened?" he was pushing his luck and he knew it, one wrong word, a question to far and he was asking for a slap from you.
a part of you did want to slap him for continuing to ask these personal questions, he was nothing to you anymore, he wasn't apart of you life and he didn't deserve to be. But the other part, the half you'd hidden away the last few months, wanted him to know.
and unfortunately for you, that part won. "he couldn't get me off, there, happy? now can you fuck off?" you walked towards the door of your apartment, about to hold it open when you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist.
before you could think your back was against the wall, charles' body flush against yours, his eyes finding yours instantly and you hated the way your stomach erupted in butterflies when they did.
you tried to wriggle away, charles' grip on your hands to strong for you to even budge. "poor guy couldn’t get you to come?” you responded with silence, not wanting to give nto his taunting. “told you i'd ruin other men for you, didn't i?" the monegasque couldn't hide hide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes at the implication.
scoffing at his words, you tried to break free of his grasp again, ultimately stopping when you made no progress, his hand held you own two above your head, his other lingering somewhere across your stomach. "you flatter yourselves charles, really, more than anyone else does."
he rolled his eyes, testing the waters as he leant in to press a singular kiss against your neck, a self satisfied smile spreading across his face when you tilted it back against the cold wall, allowing him for access. "always knew you could never stay away for too long. how long was it last time, 2, 3 months?”
truly, in that moment you hated yourself for giving into his advances, but it didn’t mean that you were going to go quietly. "last i checked you followed me, seems you’re the desperate one."
"and who's the one letting me fuck her after her date couldn't?"
"who said anything about you fucking me?" instead of answering Charles bit down into the skin on your neck, a small whimper falling from your lips, quickly shutting you up, as he soothed over the redness with his tongue.
each movement of his was controlled, calculated, he knew where he was going to touch you, when he was going to, almost as if he knew it was going to happen. something about the way he was slightly smiling when he brought your lips in for a kiss made you short of breath, knocking the air out of your lungs, with your skin tingling at the long forgotten play of intimacy. you melted into his embrace, every sense on high alert.
red flags went off in your head. he cheated on you, and you took him back. it was a viscous cycle where neither seemed strong enough to let go.
it was almost like you were drowning in the moment, in him, sinking so deep you were sure to meet mariana’s trench.
at this, you pulled away, your face was red hot, watching as his smug exterior faltered slightly, his cheeks fading a small hue of redness. your hands rested on his chest, his eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep he must've gotten. "you can't keep doing this, charles, it's not fair." your voice was weak as you spoke, not having the strength to look him in his eyes.
"if it's not fair, then why do you keep coming back to me?" the question was warranted, yet there was a slight part of you, deep inside that section of your heart reserved for him that thought this could work, that you would get back together and all would be right in the world.
you had no real answer for him, nothing you could offer him that you hadn’t said already, and you knew he wasn’t bound to change his mind about you now. "because i want to believe it'll work, even when we know it doesn't." charles' lips were millimetres away from yours, able to feel his breath fanning them as your eyes glanced down at them.
delicately, charles slid his hands over your hips before squeezing the skin, noticing the quick look to his lips he longed to kiss you again, to stay like this for a moment, it was easy like that, to forget he had to make a relationship work outside of kissing you. it was when you decided to look up, the memory of your kiss making your insides warm were you leaning forward to place another tender smooch on his lips, savoring it, may it be your last.
you knew you were making a mistake, but if you truly wanted to let him go, it was one you had to let yourself make. this was on your accords, not his.
charles' touch softened at your quick action, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. "I always knew you were the obsessed one" with the sudden whisper you voiced, he smiled sheep it at you. you held off from smiling back at him, allowing him to take you, holding your hand in his when you walked towards your once shared bedroom, nostalgia feeding the delusions that this wouldn’t be the last time.
the nights in monaco were never quiet, the weekends increasing tenfold and for the first time in years you welcomed the buzzing night life of your home country. his hands on your body were a sensation that brought back memories, good and bad, and you didn't even realize how much you had missed him on you.
for the past few months you’d tried to convince yourself and everyone around you that you didn't want him, that you were fine on your own but charles, as always, saw right through it. "i know you missed me, chérie, it's okay to admit it," he punctuated his words with a kiss on your cheek. "tu m'as manqué." i missed you
he had broken you a long ago and the only person who can pick up your pieces and make you whole again, was him.
"shut up and fuck me, charles." your hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head with no protest from him, in an attempt to get him to speed up.
"thought we didn't say anything about fucking you?" you hated the way the cocky smile on his face made a warmth pool in your stomach, turned you on like no one had before or after him.
you ignored his comment, turning round to let charles unzip the dress you had been wearing. his hands danced across the back of your shoulders, goosebumps rising on your warm skin as he slowly unzipped your dress. he leant in, placing a kiss in between your shoulder blades, undoing it fully and watching as the material fell, black against the stark white sheets.
maybe it was symbolic, yin and yang, sinner and saint, darkness and light, charles and you.
underneath you had a matching red set on, the red lace complimenting your skin tone more than any other colour. "even when i'm not around your still wearing my colour." you rolled your eyes at his goading when he cupped your breasts, squeezing the soft skin slightly.
"red was always arthur’s favourite colour on me." your voice was shallow as you spoke, sighing contently as squeezed your soft skin, thumbs grazing over your nipples. your words were a call back to when you and charles had started dating, the last year of high school, arthur only 15 and you and charles 18.
it was a running joke in the family of his crush on you, the younger leclerc taking after the rest of his family in that he was never shy to let someone know how he felt, especially the girls.
you saw charles' eyes darken at the mention of his name, quick to bring your mouth in for another, much shorter, kiss as his hands ran up and down your body. with each passing minute you melted into him, his lips peppering your neck with wet kisses while travelling further down your body, nibbling on your tender skin downwards. the room was dimly lid, yet you could clearly view his eyes on you, locked on you like a predator with his prey, pupils blown out in a crazed look.
quickly, charles cleared the soaked lace that was in his way, leaving no barrier between himself and your bare cunt. "don't get shy on me now, chérie, open your legs."
you couldn’t you resist him much longer, or maybe you didn’t want to, spreading your legs as he placed himself right in between you, hiking your leg over his shoulder. his lips drifted down from your calf, closer and closer to the inside of your thigh before you could feel his breath on you, hyperaware of everything.
"fuck, you're so wet." your skin erupted with goosebumps with his first of many kisses on your clit, the tingling nerves anticipating further care from him. charles prodded his tongue out, flicking it over your sensitivity, pitiful sounding whines falling from your lips.
"don’t tease me.” you pleaded with him, watching as his eyes flashed up at you, a mischievous smile on his face before turning away again.
charles flattened his tongue against you, licking a stripe up the middle, working his mouth against you whilst also placing his middle finger against your clit. he circled your clit with his tongue, whimpers falling from your lips from the pleasure. your eyes were screwed shut, hands clutching at the bedsheets when you felt him push two of his fingers inside of you.
"look at how good you take my fingers, mon amour, just as you always did." Your thighs shook slightly when he pressed his tongue against your clit again alongside pumping his fingers in and out of you. your significant wetness was coating him, fingers easily moving as you clenched around them.
his mouth explored your every inch, his nose messily bumping against your clit when his tongue wasn't on it, your hand digging into his hair, keeping him there, pulling on the dark strands as groans sounded from him.
in between his taunts were words of praise, every second getting you closer and closer to the release you so desperately needed. your lips slumped into mindless pleading, with charles obliging, knowing full on well what you needed, he always did.
"forgot how good you taste." he made no attempt to tone down his crude language, making your cheeks rise up with heat, to have you writhe underneath him, not to mention with you succumbing to all of his attention on your neglected cunt.
you let out a louder moan, whining as he added a third finger, stretching you out more; more than you had been for at least a few months now. "charles, i'm so close." your pleading was futile, knowing charles was always the type of man to make you wait until he wanted you to come undone.
the clenching around his fingers made it even clearer that you were close, so close you were practically dancing around your release. "cmon, let go for me, chérie.” charles spoke in a low voice, his warm breath tickling your skin.
he help you ride through your first orgasm, his name the only thing on your tongue as your thighs shook around his head, your hands grasping at the grown out strands of his hair, charles letting his eyes glance up at you when you came. your back arched off the mattresses of the bed, the heels of your feet digging into charles' shoulders.
just when you thought he’d stop he didn’t relent, his fingers still moving inside of you, tongue pressed against your clit as he slowly circled it, you could hear the sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you, any other time and you’d be embarrassed by it. “s’too much, charles.”
“too much? one orgasm and it’s too much?” you nodded your head pitifully, hands reaching down to wrap around his wrist but it didn’t stop the movement of charle’s fingers. “what happened to my good girl? used to be able to at least give my fingers two.”
you knew where he was going with this, he wasn’t going to stop till you came again, wether it was on his tongue or with his fingers, and you whined when you felt them curl inside of you, feeling fuller than before somehow. already hypersensitive, it wasn’t long till the familiar rush came back to you, building in your stomach, the coil tightening till it once again snapped.
"never gonna be able to forget how good you sound moaning my name." his voice was tainted with, drawing out sloppy kisses on your belly, then breasts, wherever you let him he left marks in his wake. you let him explore and spoil you, shameless as he tenderly wrapped his lips around the erected nipple while rolling the other one between his fingers.
he puts out his hand for you, bringing you to match his height, moving to kiss you again now that your breathing was less erratic. "i want you to fuck me," you say almost breathlessly against his lips.
he hums against your lips, helping you up so you both can move atop your bed. he lays you back against what once was your neatly set up pillows, still hungrily kissing you, hands running down your thighs, but you move to grasp them. "fuck, i want you so badly right now." you knew it was wrong but you revelled in his confession, that after everything he was still yearning for you.
charles pauses looking at your eyes, still despite everything looking for any shade of regret in them. when he sees nothing he takes the opportunity to make one of his snide remarks. "remember when you told me this wasn't going to happen again? always knew you were a good liar."
you craved the stretch of him, the stretch that no many years together could prepare you for and the burn much like before that lingers in your throat and was so good that it made you forget how to think.
charles pushes inside of you, moving as slow as possible but you encourage him to fill you up completely. your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of his cock stretching you, your hands coming to grasp onto his shoulders, nails digging in to his lightly tanned skin. charles' breathing staggers as he groans, moving forwards to place kisses along your jaw.
he stills once he's in you fully, but you shake your head slightly. "don't fucking stop charles,” his face stays tucked in your neck, his hips rolling against yours forcing a moan from your lips.
“even wore my favourite perfume, were you planning on fucking me when you got ready, chérie?" he’d just picked up on it there, the same signature scent you had wore throughout your entire relationship being the first one you reach for, a sweet smell that he thought reflected on you perfectly.
"shut up." he swallows a laugh when he hears you cry out, featherlight touches against your skin, gently, enjoying the sounds that rose from you with the way slammed into you.
he held your gaze, your eyes overcome with desire, lust, sensing nothing but your hammering heartbeat on his chest.
his lips slightly parted after every thrust, he knew he needed this as much as you did, taking advantage of the momentary peace to try to catch his breath with your nails holding onto his back, branding his skin with crescent shaped indents.
his little words of praise worked contradictory with his continuous taunts, teasing you as he nipped at your exposed skin.
your hands raked over his taut muscles, earning a grown from the man above you as your nails scratched against his back. charles pulled your hands in his own, placing them above your head before increasing the rhythm on his hips, steadier, deeper, not to mention pushing you closer to your release.
charles bought his face closer to yours, his lips just lightly brushing over your ear. "i want you to ride me, put on a show."
you couldn't help but moan at his words, nodding your head before switching positions, charles staying inside as you straddled his lap, knees locked in on either side of his thighs, his eyes meeting yours and you could see how desperate he was in that moment.
he was sat further up on the bed, your nails raking down his chest, leaving more, deeper, marks sure to last. lips pressed against the side of his neck, biting down on the skin before soothing over it and moving onto another place.
his adams apple bobbed as you took more of the control, setting your own pace despite his hands on your hips trying to make you go faster. charles brought his thumb down to your clit, circling it which had your thighs shaking around him.
charles' name fell from your mouth more than anything else, him and your pleasure your two sole focuses.
he could see the tiredness start to come through in your movements, choosing to take more control wether you complained or not. he began thrusting up into you with his hands on your hips, his thumb still rubbing circles on your clit determine to make you come at least once more.
your thighs tried closing around charles' midriff from the overwhelming sensitivity, although he was there to keep them open, a hand on the top of both of your thighs forcing them open.
clenching around him one last time you felt him release inside of you, the warm feeling of him so deep inside of you making you whine. charles let out a string of curse words, your name at the forefront when he let out one last groan, slumping back against your pillows altogether his hands didn’t stop the movement of your hips.
within the whirlwind of emotions, you desperately clenched around him, with this position your heart was racing, dipping into the mattress with soft gusts of breath departing from your lips. the raw drag of him was somehow more extreme, pursing your mouth when you felt a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.
his own orgasm brought on yours, your bodies in-tune with each other as if he’d never left. you were completely ruined, mind going blank as you felt yourself losing full control of your body to charles, vision a blinding white as your body felt hot all over.
the monegasque brought you in for a short kiss, leaving for the bathroom when you rolled off of him and coming back with a dampened towel, helping you clean up.
you both knew it was the last time you had together, the last time you would ever share a bed together, the last kiss.
and the thought of that had you clutching onto each other in your sleep just a bit tighter.
although before you did eventually fall asleep, you heard charles whisper one last thing in your ear, his confession bringing the smallest of smiles to your face.
"je serai toujours à toi."
tag list:
@irmpyrz @tempo-rary-fix @formulas-bitch @yunnie-f1 @julesandro @itsjustkhaos @janeh22 (a year later and i finally have something to tag yous in!!)
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc one shot#f1#f1 fluff#f1 smut#f1 one shot#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#charles leclerc x reader
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Can u do early seasons spencer x reader who has a lot of problems and they let people walk all over them and they dont set boundaries and they struggle with their emotions. Reader likes spencer a lot but doesn't seek him out bc they feel like he deserves better! And u can decide what happens but make it happy ending :)
Oh my word, I literally spent like 2 hours writing this because I wrote something and then my internet cut out when I posted and now it's lost, so I had to rewrite it. Hope you enjoy!
Cw: gn reader, people dumping work on reader, Spencer being cute
Enjoy!
You were a doormat. You knew it, your friends knew it, everyone knew it. You tried to set boundaries, to say no, but it never seemed to stick. Saying no made you feel guilty, it made you feel like a bad person even though you knew you weren't.
Being a doormat, people tended to walk all over you, requesting ridiculous things of you. That is how it came to be that you were sitting alone in the bullpen, the clock ticking away, showing you that it was around midnight and you still had a whole stack of papers to go through. You felt yourself about to fall asleep, and truly, you were too tired to fight it off when a ding signaled the arrival of someone.
Without even turning to look who it was you knew it was Spencer Reid. You recognized his footsteps, and even if you didn't, the smell he brought with him would have alerted you. It was the smell of coffee mixed sweet undertones, almost as if he had spent his whole day in a café. It was intoxicating. "What are you still doing here?" "Working, I have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow" "you mean today" looking back at the clock you could see he was right, it was now officially the next day.
"Do you need some help?" without even waiting for you to decline Spencer took half of the pile you were working on. He moved fast, knowing you well enough to know that you hated asking for help, especially from him, he just could never figure out why.
"Spencer, you really don't need to, I've got this" reaching your hands to take the files back only to be swatted away by the doctor was something you did not expect. "I'm not saying you don't have it, I'm just going to help you so you can go home earlier"
Sighing you admitted defeat and went to go make coffee for the two of you. With Spencer's help you managed to make it through the massive stack of papers on your desk in less that an hour, something you would never have been able to do on your own.
"You, doctor Spencer Reid, are amazing, what can I do to thank you?" it was a slight tease on your part. You didn't expect him to ask you anything return, it wasn't like him, he was too nice . That was one of the things you loved about him, and one of the reasons you willed the crush growing in your heart to shrivel up and die. He deserved so much better than you. Someone with a mind as amazing as his own, someone with kindness rivaling his and someone who knew how to say no. You were none of those. At least not in your own eyes.
"You could go on a date with me" Spencer surprised himself with those words, he really hadn't meant to say them out loud, but he really liked you, and in a moment of confidence inspired by sleep deprevation, he decided to take a chance.
"Really? You mean it?" the both of you were blushing hard at this point, him thinking about how he could have possibly screwed this up and you thinking about how this could possibly get any better.
"I-I mean, only if you want to, you really don't have to feel pressured, I know I said I would take it as paiment, but honestly spending time with you was enough of a payme-" grabbing his face in your hands you turned him to look at you, shutting off his ramblings with the movement and shutting off his brain with your words
"I would love to"
#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#doctor spencer reid#bau#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fluff
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I love what we have so much. But Samba saying this is the last bts scene drop...it really fucking hurts, because this is the last time we'll get new content of them. And yeah, this day would've come eventually, even if we did get a third season.
But it just drives home how much we're missing out on, how much sooner we're losing this than we should have. We should be excited for a third season right now. It hurts so much that we're not. We should've gotten to see them get married, and have weird conversations, and do little improv bits. The chemistry between these two is amazing, and it hurts so much that telling an amazing queer story like this wasn't valuable enough to some rich fucking CEO to keep. The people who worked on this show deserved so much better. We deserved better.
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SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; largesse (pt II)
For the prompt: Gabe and Stephen being sappy at SOME point
Follows this.
Early on, Gabe worries he’s wrong about his 'Stephen loves holidays' thesis: Easter’s during Passover that year, and neither of them do anything for it, unless you count Stephen buying a few bags of mini eggs from the drug store when they go on clearance after, and Gabe doesn’t. At this point mini eggs are entirely secular — they’re not even a seasonal thing. Gabe saw a Christmas edition of them a few months back, though he’s not sure how eggs are supposed to be involved in Christmas. Maybe another gift for Santa? Cookies and milk aren't a very well-balanced diet, some eggs can't hurt.
But then Mother’s Day arrives, and while Gabe orders his mom flowers, Stephen leans over him, sighing about needing to get his mom something, but not flowers, because his mom doesn’t like flowers, she always makes things difficult, why can’t she just like what everyone else does. This is the third straight day of their annual tradition of brainstorming what to get Anouk — twice annual tradition, actually, it comes up on her birthday too, and probably at Christmas, now that Gabe’s thinking about it, it’s just that Stephen worries about what to get everyone for Christmas, with the exception of Gabe and his parents, and that’s just because he worries about what to get them for Hannukah instead.
And then Father’s Day comes around, and Stephen goes through the exact same process for getting Johan a gift. Then Beth’s birthday, and that Stephen pretends not to care about at all, but then gets her and Anna tickets to a Taylor Swift concert in Toronto that summer, and Gabe’s pretty sure securing those involved either a sizeable amount of time, money, or both.
Gabe’s not proud to say it takes until Johan’s birthday in October to really click into place. Obviously he’s had some suspicions, or he wouldn’t have been observing Stephen’s demeanour so closely, but honestly, he does that as a matter of course — it’s easier than listening to what Stephen says about how he’s feeling, which is usually not true. And that’s if he’s even willing to talk about it, which isn't likely.
Once again, Stephen’s bitching about how hard it is to buy things for his dad, who is, admittedly, not an easy man to find gifts for, and Gabe finally sees right all the way through Stephen's ‘why is gift giving so frequent, it’s absurd’ speech to the fact that it’s honestly not hard to find a gift for someone if you don’t give a shit whether they like it.
Stephen apparently gives so many shits. Innumerable shits. So Gabe figures he can help him out a bit. Do some research, attempt to make a list.
“I doubt most of them are up to snuff, because, you know, Johan,” Gabe says, waving a hand in a way he’s concerned to notice is an accidental but dead on impression of his mother, “But maybe one or two of them will work.”
“Gabe,” Stephen says, looking up from the list.
“It’s nothing,” Gabe says. “Something to do on the road.”
“You printed it out,” Stephen says.
“Seemed easier,” Gabe says. “But I’ll email it to you as well.”
“And colour coordinated it,” Stephen says.
“It was a boring roadie,” Gabe says, though the end of it is kind of breathless, because Stephen’s crushing the air out of his lungs.
“Thank you,” Stephen mumbles, and Gabe brings a hand up to card through his hair.
“It’s nothing,” he says.
~
The packages start arriving two days later.
Gabe sighs, pushing aside two boxes with his foot so he can unlock the door, grabbing one under each arm to bring inside. One of them’s heavy for its size. Probably the knife set.
“Oh good,” Stephen says, looking up from his laptop as Gabe stacks the packages on top of all the other ones in the living room. “I was getting concerned that those weren’t coming.”
“Stephen,” Gabe says. “You can’t give your dad seventeen gifts for his birthday. He’ll just be disappointed every other year.”
And Gabe did say it was nothing, but that list took him two flights, three breakfasts, a dinner, and the recommendations of half the Canucks and most of the support staff, with dads receiving special consideration, to make.
“I can, however, not have to worry about what to get him for the next five years,” Stephen says gleefully.
Gabe sees trouble coming.
“I’m not making a list for everyone,” Gabe says.
“Gabe,” Stephen whines.
“No way,” Gabe says, taking this as a cue to retreat. “You’re on your own.”
“Gabe,” Stephen says, closing his laptop to trail him out of living room. “Please?”
~
The Canucks, unfortunately, are much less helpful when it comes to what to get middle-aged women. Gabe is disappointed but unsurprised.
“You lose a bet, Marksy?” Coach asks when Gabe brings the question to him. He’s married to one, which likely gives him an edge over the Canucks, who Gabe's learned are all a bunch of terrible sons. Well, other than Bullet. The majority of the ideas he does have on this list are just him trying to keep up with Bullet’s stream-of-consciousness.
“Something like that,” Gabe says, and adds his suggestion for a shawl. Sure, it’s already on the list, but it’s never smart to piss off the guy who controls how many minutes you get.
"My wife likes candles too," Coach says. "The ones that smell up the place."
Stephen can't stand scented candles, and Gabe's almost positive he got that from his mom, but Gabe adds it to the list anyway. It'd serve Stephen right to get a faulty list, and maybe he won't be forced to make one for Beth and Anna if he does a purposefully bad job.
Gabe waits until Coach is long gone, and then he makes sure to scribble those ideas out. Sure, he'll probably remember, and Stephen would probably notice even if he didn't, but, well.
May as well get Anouk something nice.
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okay, so i've seen some people claim that tim minear is an avid buddie shipper and that he's slowly but surely laying the groundwork for buck and eddie to become canon in the future and...
i'm just thoroughly confused about this assertion.
i'll preface this by saying i'm very new to the fandom, so i'm prepared to be wrong about this. i'm aware i may lack crucial context because i've been here only so long. also, i don't know tim personally, so i obviously can't speak to his true intentions, but i'll make my case anyway.
i'll cite two RECENT comments by tim that i assume people might draw this conclusion from:
1. [?: There is a sect of the fandom that just wants 9-1-1 to be the Buck and Eddie show, and any cut that removes a second of them is going to get the same reaction. Nothing short of renaming the show "Christopher's Two Dads" is going to make them happy.] T: I totally get that. I even appreciate it. Which explains the entire first act of last night's episode. I kind of did for the Buck/Eddie fans (I mean I really do it for myself in the end). I just thought... they'd like it? Shrug. I liked it, so whatever.
2. Minear tells Rolling Stone that he hasn’t just been aware of fan reactions, he’s actually changed storylines in the past to avoid being accused of queerbaiting. But rather than help, he says it made the show worse. “Nobody wants to be accused of queerbaiting so I kind of stopped writing those characters together. And I think it hurt the show because I was so afraid to be accused of something that I wasn’t going where I would naturally go with the stories,” Minear says. “I just decided that I just have to write the thing that I think is right. I just have to be honest with the story I’m telling and let the chips fall where they may.”
now, i may be biased, but this doesn't read to me like he plans on buddie endgame at all.
while it's clear he loves the bond between buck and eddie and enjoys highlighting it in the show, saying he totally wants them to end up together feels like a reach.
he discusses being accused of queerbaiting in the past, which led him to backtrack a little and stop writing buck and eddie together. how does this suggest he did it because he wants buddie to become canon? if that were his intention he could have continued to drop more (apparent!) hints that buck and eddie may love each other in a non-platonic way. he wouldn't care about the accusations of queerbaiting so much, because he would be planning to make them canon all along. sure, there are external constraints that could prevent this from ever materializing, but that doesn't mean he couldn't write the dialogue in a clearly ambiguous way so that once he gets a pass and everyone else involved is on board with it, he could confirm that "yeah, you were right; it was a good ol' friends-to-lovers slow burn trope all along. congrats!!" no. instead he backtracked because he didn't want anyone to think he was writing buddie as anything other than a platonic relationship. that's it. but he eventually realized it doesn't really matter because people are going to think what they want to think regardless. and he obviously loves buck and eddie's friendship so he might as well just make the most out of it at this point. and if he ever feels like maybe it is a good time to turn their friendship into something more because it feels right for story, he'll go for it. but if not, he won't.
i see a lot of people claim buddie is a six-season-long slow burn, being carefully crafted right now for future canonization. and they say tim basically confirmed this. but i really can't see his comments being a confirmation of the sort.
if there are any quotes i'm missing that suggest otherwise, i would love to go through them. so if anyone's aware of any, please don't hesitate to hit me up.
but at the moment i believe y'all are just setting yourselves up for disappointment.
#i'm half asleep writing this#i don't even know if this makes sense#anyway#i'm open to discussion#if anyone has any thoughts on this i'll happily read through them#bucktommy#not tagging the other ship for reasons#evan buckley#tim minear
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Oh, thinking more
What if the hunter that shot Alastor was Vox?
Like, I doubt it, but we "know" they had dogs, so I was thinking about who if any has anything resembling dogs? And the only one I can think of is Vox, like he had two sharks in the show plus some dog-shark creature in the insta stories
So, what if he was pretty young, loved radio and any new technology, so he was a fan of Alastor's. In addition, he had just started to learn how to hunt and wanting to impress his parents went out late to practice, took the dogs so that he could just say he went out with them if anyone asked
Then out in the woods, the dogs start to bark and he readies his gun, mostly just to better his aim, not intending to shoot. Then he sees the figure rise, he can't fully comprehend it before he takes the shot. He can hear a thud. He got it? He got it! He shot a deer!
Oh.
That's gonna be hard to hide.
Should he tell dad that he was able to shoot a deer? Like, yay, he did it! But also, no, he went out with dads gun without permission.
He approaches the deer, trying to figure out what to do with it, only to freeze when he gazes upon it.
It's not a deer.
It's a-
He-
This is bad.
That was the last time he went hunting. He can't get the image out of his head. He'll never forget that face.
The worst part was, he knew who it was. He had figured it out when he saw a missing poster of his favorite radio host.
He still liked technology, and to drown out the past that's where all his focus went. He wanted to be a big part of TV just like Alastor had been a big part of Radio. It was his way of honouring Alastor.
Still, sometimes it was hard to listen to the radio, that's why his focus was on the TV. They where practically the same, just some extra visuals, distractions, it was practically an upgrade. He just knew Alastor would agree, that man was always on the forefront of what was new in radio.
Surely, if he was alive, then he would have obviously pivoted towards TV after realizing the benefits of the medium
___
Imagen then how Vox would reach when seeing Alastor for the first time in hell. Like he doesn't know if Alastor is aware that it was Vox, but if he does maybe he won't recognize Vox? He has a TV for a head now, not really a human feature. Still though, he can't help but want to spend time with Alastor, tell of all that has happened in the world and share with him how Amazing the TV had become
DAMN BAEWSBNFSDYGUFKDGHFS
ANONS ARE FEEDING ME GOOD TODAY WTF?
✨✨✨THE TRAUMA✨✨✨
THIS IS INSANE remember the "sad and complicated" IT KINDA FITS LOL AHAHA-- THIS EXPLAINS WHY VOX IS SO OBSESSED WITH ALASTOR
IMAGINE JUST IMAGINE, NEXT SEASON THEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FIGHT AND VOX SAYS SOMETHING LIKE, I KILLED YOU ONCE, I'LL KILL YOU AGAIN AND ALASTOR'S JUST WHAT AND EVERYTHING STOPS WHILE BOTH REALISE WHAT WAS JUST SAID
That would be such a cool turn, like. Vox clinging to Alastor in pathetic attempt to apologise for killing him and make up for it, and get waht they could have in life if he haven't killed him. And Alastor just doesn't understand Vox's behavior nor the reasons for it
AND WHEN VOX SAYS THAT HE KILLED HIM IN LIFE EVERYTHING BECOMES CLEAR AND ALASTOR JUST LAUGHS LIKE, HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE, HE'S NOT EVEN ANGRY, BECAUSE VOX JUST BECOME EVEN MORE PATHETIC IN HIS EYES. HE KILLED HIM AND THEN WAS IN SHOCK HIS WHOLE LIFE WHILE ALASTOR KILLED MUCH MORE AND NEVER FELT REMORSE FOR A SINGLE ONE
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#sudden ask lol#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#human alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#radio demon
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HOCKEY BOYS
part 2; izuku midoryia x fem!reader
synopsis: the captain of japan’s hockey team has his eye on the coach’s daughter
( the smaller font is gonna be a flashback! )
izuku midoryia, the black heron. people never really know what they are, and that’s what adds to his un-expecting nature. the black heron is most known for its unique methods for catching prey. the bird forms its wings to look like an umbrella, keeping out light from under them. the fish then mindlessly assume that this is shelter, some sort of safe haven. that is until the heron strikes, making sure that nothing is left behind.
he never wanted to get into any fights. if he had participated in one it’s likely because he had been roped into it trying to get katsuki out.
there were two reasons he didn't feel the need to fight. one, he just wasn't raised that way. if inko knew that he was picking any fight he could get she would drag him out of the rink by his ear. and the second was you.
"i don't like seeing you get hurt izu. especially when it's because of someone else" you had snuck back into the locker room once all of the players, plus your dad, had went home. the first aid kit sat by your side because he didn't let anybody else tend to him. he had said he was fine, but you weren't just going to let him go on in his current state.
"i know, i'm sorry" he mumbled under his breath, almost embarrassed that you had to see him this way "i just wanted to pull kacchan out of there. you know how he can be"
you placed a band aid on his cheek before placing your hand over it "i know you worry about him, but sometimes it's okay to let him fight his own battles. how will he learn if he never gets a chance?" his eyes gazed into yours and finally gave in. he let out a sigh leaning his head more into your hand.
"you're right. i'm sorry again"
you giggled at the sight of him. practically melting into you with the most apologetic tone. leaning in you placed a soft peck on his lips "it's okay my love. you're just trying to be the best captain you can be"
the kiss left him with a giddy smile on his face. he just loved you so much. it's not like he didn't want to make your relationship known to the world, he did. it's just your father was the problem.
yes, he was an amazing coach and mentor, but he played no games when it came to you. and yes, the two of you were both adults and could do what you wanted. it’s just that both of you knew that the news would probably piss him off for the rest of the season.
it really all started at one of the first practices you had attended, denki decided that it would be a bright idea to discuss just how attractive you were in the locker room.
"i mean did you even see her? she's gorgeous!"
sero chuckled grabbing his jersey "gorgeous, yeah, but she's the coach's kid, so messing with her is some dangerous game you're playing"
denki shrugged with a smirk on his face "i ain't afraid of a challenge" the locker room went silent after that comment. denki lifted his head up with a raised eyebrow "c'mon you can't tell me that you wouldn't want to get with her!"
"get with who exactly?"
the voice made denki's blood run cold. he gulped silently as he turned in his spot. he came face to face with your father who did not look happy. arms crossed, he took another step closer to him.
"get with who?"
“i- nobody-“
“i should shove you against these lockers right now. don’t ever speak of my daughter like that again do you hear me?” he looked up making sure to make eye contact with every single player in that room “this goes out for everyone. if one of you even thinks about getting with her then breakin’ her heart i swear i’ll make your career living hell. do you understand?”
a bunch of yes sir’s could be heard around the room. it was right on time, because you had just made your way into the locker room but with your back turned.
“everyone is decent right? i don’t wanna see anyone’s junk”
��you’re fine y/n” your dad shook his head as you turned around with a smile. in your hand you held a plate of cookies with labels on some of them “sweetheart, why would you bring those everyone’s on a strict diet”
you rolled your eyes taking off the plastic wrap “dad i know. that’s why i made the healthier cookies not the regular ones. they have flaxseed, bananas, oats, stuff like that!” you looked around the room with a happy smile “does anybody want one?”
the team looked down at the plate of cookies, then at you father. he nodded in approval which made them cheer in approval. you went around the locker room handing them each a cookie. when you got to izuku it was like the world stopped for a moment. freckles scattered across his face, and shifting when he went to smile.
his smile.
it was one of those things that you would never get tired of.
you’ve had a crush on him for a while, but had only seen him on television or from a distance. when your father said you could help out at the rink you’ve never been faster to agree.
“y/n?”
the sound of your name quickly pulled you from your daydreaming. izuku had been calling your name growing concerned each time you didn’t answer.
“sorry! i zoned out for a second there”
the smile made its way back onto his face hearing you were okay “good, i just wanted to know what the options were”
you explained everything that you had and he ended up taking one of the more plain cookies. deciding it was now or never, you made some conversation.
“you’re the captain right? how’s captaining?” what a smooth talker you were.
he chuckled a bit at your question “yeah, i am. captaining has been good. just hoping i can lead my guys to victory, y’know?”
you nodded along ready to leave before you embarrassed yourself any more, but there was one more thing you had to say.
“you’re doing great. the way you encourage your teammates and bring them all together is really inspiring. you can even tell the difference in the way they’re playing. just keep doing what you’re doing” with a smile you walked off going to hand off the last of your cookies.
red, everything was red. izuku had to turn his whole body just to make sure your father didn’t see the way he was blushing. the compliments you gave him were like cupid’s arrows to the heart.
katsuki stood next to him watching the whole interaction go down. with a shake of his head he sighed “you’re in fuckin’ trouble”
you had been “seeing” each other for a couple of weeks, but decided to make it official about six months ago. both of you being extremely happy and secure in your current relationship, and maybe when the hockey season was over you could really settle.
by the next game, izuku could take the small bandages off his face. there was no pre-game routine the two of you had, you didn’t need one. he knew you were there for him and only him, and you trusted him enough not to do anything. though you did keep a piece of him with you as he played.
usually you would wear a hoodie to games, so underneath you would wear one of his shirts. and don’t think forgot about you. izuku had carved your initials into his favorite hockey stick long ago. you decided on sitting in the box with the players on the bench, just on a separate chair. this game would be a big one, and you could tell by your fathers pacing back and forth.
“they’ve got this dad, don’t worry”
he sat down next to you with a heavy sigh “i know honey. we just can’t have anything go wrong” you gave him a pat on the back as you watched them line up. izuku had took his place with a focused gaze.
he was naturally a fun and playful person, but as soon as he stepped onto that ice, it was go time.
the starting sound rang out and they were off. speeding across the ice like their lives depended on it. you cheered every time a goal was scored making sure izuku could hear you above the others.
they were doing amazing in the first two periods. always up by at least three points. plus not even one fight insinuated from katsuki. it’s in the third period where you saw things start to get a little rocky. izuku was starting to slip. every time a certain player from the opposing team got near him he would miss a shot completely.
your dad whistled for him to come back over to the bench “kid the hell are you doing? get it together before you’re benched for the rest of the game, you hear me?” izuku gave him a silent nod, but you could tell that he was barely listening. you wanted to reach out, to ask what’s wrong, but all you could do was sit back and watch it happen. it was a good minute before izuku was let back on the ice again.
he had seemed to regather himself and was able to shoot a few passes, but once the player came back it all went downhill.
you could see your dad shaking his head out of the corner of your eye “dad maybe it’s just an off day. everybody has them-“
you had looked away for a second.
and when you looked back you saw izuku yelling at one of the players from the other team. the player had shoved him hard which gave izuku an opening. balling up his fists he sent a punch directly to his right cheek, but he didn’t stop there. he made sure to grab his jersey and pull him down to the ground with one hand and still tried to punch him with the other.
the refs finally stopped it when they saw the other guys nose was starting to bleed. two of them just had to pull izuku off the guy. he had been so distracted by what the guy said he didn’t even know he had kept going. you watched as they didn’t even drag him to the penalty box, but off the ice.
he couldn’t even look at you as he walked down the hallway back into the locker rooms.
“what the hell’s gotten into him-“
you didn’t wait for your dad to finish his sentence as you climbed over the small wall and headed down into the locker rooms.
“izu?” you saw him sitting on one of the benches head down and in his hands. there was some room next to him so you sat down gently rubbing his back “baby what happened out there?”
he didn’t talk right away, just trying to get his breathing back under control.
“they were just- just talking a bunch of shit. i didn’t care when they were doing it about me, that’s whatever. but somehow they know about me and you. the only people that really know is the team. i’m not sure how it even got to him”
it finally clicked. how he was playing, how the players kept getting close to him.
“you did it cause they were talking about me? izu you didn’t have to”
he shook his head “no, no i did have to. y/n you’re my girlfriend. if you think i’m gonna let some douchebag insult you when you’re not there to defend yourself then you’re crazy”
“oh izu” you cupped the other side of his cheek going to turn his head to face you. at first he wouldn’t meet your eyes, but it didn’t take long for his to find yours again “i am very thankful that you defended me like that. i would even say it was very, very hot”
this made him laugh, showing the smile you fell in love with.
“what i’m trying to say is thank you” you leaned in giving him a long kiss. when you pulled away you finally noticed the cuts and spot that was definitely going to bruise “i’ll get something to clean you up” you went to turn on the bench but stopped seeing someone standing in the doorway. the two of you stared in shock for a second before you got up “dad don’t do anything stupid”
he walked closer to the two of you, nodding his head towards the other hallway “the first aid kit hasn’t been refilled from the last fight. can you go find someone who can do that for us?”
“dad i don’t think”
“y/n”
“fine” you leaned down to kiss izuku’s cheek, but also whispered in his ear “i’ll be right back”
once you turned the corner, your father sat down next to izuku with a sigh. the green haired male looked down at his hands unsure what to say.
“son-“
“i love your daughter” he blurted out cheeks bright pink from embarrassment “really, really love her. and i know you don’t want anyone from the team dating her-“
“midoryia-“
“no sir, i’m sorry i have to finish this” izuku looked him straight in his eyes a small lump forming in his throat. this could either go amazingly well, or absolutely horrible. your father stared him down for a couple of seconds before nodding that he could continue “thank you sir” after taking a deep breath he went on to start.
“i tried to respect your wishes, i did. but every time i saw her, it was like i was drawn to her. i wanted to make her laugh because i love her laugh. and i wanted to make her smile more than anyone or anything. you raised such a kind, beautiful, and caring daughter that i just- just can’t imagine my life without. sorry if you think this is not manly of me, it’s definitely not how i thought this was going to go. thought i’d puff my chest out and do some big ‘it’s not your choice anyway’ shit but i’m not like that” he shook his head “you’re her father, and i respect that. i wanted to let you know how i really feel, and that she’s in good hands”
your father listened intently to izuku’s lovesick rambling. he noticed the way he smiled when he talked about you. along with some far off look in his eye. probably daydreaming about the future the two of you hold. lifting up a hand he clapped izuku on the back “i appreciate everything you’ve said. and i hope this doesn’t make it any less when i say this but.. i already knew about the two of you. maybe not dating but i could tell from every interaction the two of you had that something was going on”
izuku’s mouth hung open at the news. he just couldn’t believe that he had hid it for this long.
“i trust you. i trust you on the ice, and i trust you with my daughter. you’ve been nothing but good to her. so if you want my blessing you’ve had it for a long time. for what you two are doing now, and any plans you have in the future” with his other hand he tapped one of izuku’s fingers making his face turn a deeper shade of red.
“thank you sir. i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and-“
“thinking about what?” you asked walking into the room with a first aid kit. eyebrows knit together at the sight of your fathers hand on izuku’s shoulder “dad please tell me you didn’t threaten him or something. i’m a grown woman and i think i should be able to be with whoever i want” you’ve been mustering up the courage to say that ever since you’ve retrieved the first aid kit. your father got up heading over to you.
“i agree”
“i can try to see where you’re coming from but- huh?” you stopped your practiced speech when he came over to hug you.
“he’s a good kid, and i can tell he loves you” he placed a gentle kiss at the top of your head “im sorry that i made you feel like you needed to hide this from me. your mother has told me countless times that we need to set boundaries and i never listened, but i am now”
you started to tear up, but quickly blinked them away “thank you dad. that means a lot” a horn sounded meaning that the brake was now over. he stepped away going back into the doorway before turning around.
“midoryia this doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook. you’re out for the rest of the game so get cleaned up” he pointed towards the two of you “but not together”
your face got hot and you grabbed the nearest jacket and threw it at him “get out!” he let out a roaring laugh that echoed through the halls until he was gone. shaking you head you sat next to izuku again “the audacity of that man” you mumbled going to open up the first aid kit but he stopped you.
izuku gently grabbed your one hand placing a kiss to your wrist. this made you giggle but you didn’t pull away “what’s with you?”
he then placed a kiss to the back of your hand “i’m just happy he found out. it’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders” you hummed in agreement.
“so what did you tell him?”
the last kiss was placed on your fingers. the fingers that intertwined with his own. the fingers that held his face every time you wanted his attention. the fingers that soon would be accented with a beautiful wedding ring.
“the truth”
#honeipie#anime#bnha x reader#mha#writing#x reader#fanfics#drabble#izuku x reader#izuku midoriya#deku x y/n#mha deku#mha x reader#hockey au#mha midoriya
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My 2 cents on the Jax controversy (and why I still like him)
Since the release of episode 2 of TADC I've seen a lot of people (mostly on twitter) go from loving Jax to despising him overnight, it's gotten to the point where some are accusing Goose of retconning Jax. He's definitely grown to be the most devisive character and I wanna throw my 2 cents on the discussion
I think the reason why so many people are angry and accusing the show of retconning Jax is cause some people got attached to THEIR version of Jax. During the wait between episodes when the fandom was at its peak a lot of fans made a lot of headcanons of the characters and how they thought they would act just from the pilot, including Jax, to the point where some forgot just how much of a asshole he was in the pilot. So when Jax didn't match up with how some fans headcanoned him and they were reminded just how selfish and cruel he can get, yeah a lot of them weren't happy. Even though Goose made it clear MULTIPLE times in posts and tweets that Jax was gonna be a massive asshole in the series, a lot of people either didn't know about these tweets, or ignored them because they didn't like the idea of their headcanon being 'threatened'. It's gotten to the point where some are acussing people who still like Jax of being abusers or endorsing abuse. To me that's incredibly silly, just because someone likes a character who is a jerk or a villain doesn't mean that they themselves are like that or endorse said characters actions
Personally I love they didn't hold back on how much of a jerk he was towards everyone, it's really hard to write jerk characters that are also funny (Mindy Kailing's Velma is a good example on how this can be done poorly) and I think they did a good job writing Jax, he's a jerk that you wanna see get his comeuppance but he's funny enough to not make him unbearable
Apparently Goose has said that he's gonna get worse as the series goes on to the point that he does something unforgivable later in the season, I'm really curious just how far there gonna push him and if this is hinting at him becoming a full fledged antagonist or if after he does his unforgivable act he finally starts to become a better person. But either way I'm really excited to see what there gonna do with this smug purple rabbit
#the amazing digital circus#tadc#digital circus#tadc ep 2#tadc episode 2#the amazing digital circus jax#tadc jax#jax#tadc spoilers
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I know those promo pics with Marisol are awful everyone but please let the ep and the rest of the season play out before you jump to any big conclusions. Even if say Eddie gets engaged to Marisol or something crazy like that in this ep it doesn't rule out Buddie. A lot of times with slow burn will they/won't they ships this is the kind of stuff that happens.
We will likely see Eddie and Marisol making things more serious and B/T making things more official all before Buddie realize their true feelings. TV shows are all about heightening the drama and this is how they're going to do it. They're going to make you think Buddie isn't going to happen and then surprise it does.
Also remember that if Buddie wasn't in the works Eddie would not be so entangled in Buck's coming out story as he is. Look at everything that's gone on with Buck this season, Eddie has been right there or Buck has been mentioning him. There is a reason for that. Look at all the promotional stuff for this season they put Ryan and Oliver right at the forefront and then it's was Oliver answering questions about Buddie (questions that get pre approved by the network).
There's also been Oliver's activity on social media. In the past Oliver has directly stated that he's backed off of talking about Buddie or engaging with fans about it because he didn't want to give us the wrong impression yet this season he's been posting and liking Buddie related stuff more than ever. He literally liked a really personal tattoo a fan got of Buddie and went back to comment on it three times. I don't believe for one second that Oliver would be engaging so much with Buddie stuff online or talking about Buddie so much if he thought there was no chance of Buddie ever happening. Not to say he'd never answer questions about it but he'd keep it short and sweet and leave it at that so as not to get our hopes up. I think he knows Buddie is in the plans and he's felt a lot better about encouraging fans now. Like when he's talked about fan theories and confirmed that Buck did find Eddie attractive when they first met.
Please don't let those promos or whatever happens in this ep upset you. Just let the story play out and remember that Buddie is the goal and we won't always like the journey but it's going to take time to get there. We are closer to them getting together than we have ever been we just have to be patient.
Remember also to keep showing your love for Buddie online but don't harass the official accounts. We don't want to do anything that makes our fandom look bad. Just keep reminding them we're never giving up on Buddie.
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Tales of Squandered Potential
Oh hello again everyone who follows me for my Star Wars ranting!
So! Tales of the Empire. The Hat Man is at it again.
Episodes 1-3 : The Path of Boredom
As expected, all of the Morgan stuff was not my thing. She was boring in Ahsoka, she was boring here. The entirety of the three episodes just hammered home "this lady is angry" in a way that felt overdone because there is no arc. There's no growth, no interest, no nothing. It all just feels like Filoni trying to retroactively make his one dimensional character that gets killed off in the stupidest way possible feel super badass. However because we know that she gets killed in the stupidest way possible, everything falls flat and none of it feels earned. It also doesn't actually answer any of the many many questions that Ahsoka raised about her. She's just there, standing in front of a fire. That's all she does.
Thrawn is there for all of about two seconds, and every moment of it is painful, because here's the thing. WE KNOW WHAT THRAWN WAS UP TO AT THIS TIME!!! We have the book that explains all of Thrawn's many exploits as an admiral. This is only more evidence for the idea that Filoni has never actually picked up any of the canon Thrawn books. Which we kinda already knew, but this is all but confirmation. As I've previously said, and will continue saying, Filoni needs to contextualize Thrawn as a 100% big bad otherwise his Heir to the Empire fanfilm won't actually feel earned, so he is systematically destroying any and all nuance that Thrawn has had to make sure that new viewers only ever see him as an unredeemable evil.
And I know that there are a lot of you out there who are holding out for the possibility that this is all a misdirect by Thrawn! That this is all part of his grand plan to go back and help the Ascendency, and that he's lying to everyone about his intentions. But the sad truth is that Filoni doesn't give a rats ass about anything other than cartoonishly evil Thrawn which means we're never getting Eli, or Karyn, or Hammerly or any of the characters from the six fantastic canon books that Timothy Zahn so lovingly created. That was made very clear with Filoni's prioritization of Admiral Pellaeon, who for those who don't know is actually in the new canon Thrawn books too! He wasn't just left behind in Legends, Zahn brought him back into canon too! But again, being the Legends fanboy that he is, Filoni doesn't care about where Pellaeon should be canonically, so instead he's just shoehorned into the episode for no other reason then Filoni likes him.
Episodes 4-6 : The Barriss Content
Soooooo, why didn't Barriss get a full fucking season to herself??? I get the idea behind the 15 minute episodes, but it really makes it hard to tell any sort of cohesive story. It works far better as a snapshot of a couple of days in someone's life. So unfortunately, while I did enjoy them, Barriss's episodes felt really rushed and I found it really hard to tell when things took place. How long was she at the Inquisitor training center? Was it a day? Was it a month? Really would have been interested in actually seeing the inner workings but it all has to get brushed over in favor of her becoming an Inquisitor. A seemingly intentionally not named Inquisitor which makes me feel like they've run out of early Inquisitor names. Unless there's a trial period before you get a proper number? I don't know it was just one of those things that niggled at me. Another thing that niggled at me (which was also mentioned by the wonderful artist @stealingpotatoes, go give her art some love) is that her design is kinda boring as fuck? Like, you have Birdy-Mc-Skullface right there with such a neat design and yet all Barriss gets is a motorcycle helmet with very slight voice modulation.
But I digress. The fact that Barriss commits herself to the Inquisitorium via a ritualized fight to the death, and then goes "wait, the red light saber wielding, all black wearing, Darth Vader serving inquisitors aren't here to help people?" before immediately bailing is so funny to me. This girl cannot for the life of her commit herself to an organization without becoming disillusioned within 1-3 business days.
I'm not sure how I feel about it all being about Lyn? I was very much rooting for her to totally die in the ice shafts instead of what felt like a very last minute redemption arc?
Though speaking of the last episode...HOLY SHIT OLD BARRISS IS FUCKING HOT. *coughs* Excuse me. Anyway. I would have loved to see more of what happened in between eps 5 and 6. Seeing how she and the jedi kid escaped the planet, and where the two of them did after than in the very hostile Empire would have been a facinating story watch play out. Also, who is this female friend that Barriss is referring to when she sends the child away? Is it Ahsoka??? If it is...WHY WOULD YOU NOT SHOW US THAT REUNION??? Like I get the whole point of this is to set up Barriss to make the jump to live action like every single other Filoni character is curseddestined to do, but also you've had people waiting years to find out what happened to Barriss and it feels like they burned their biggest story possibility on a throwaway reference. Did she find Ahsoka? Did Ahsoka find her? When did they find each other? Was it pre-Rebellion? Was it after Ahsoka was already functioning as Fulcrum? Given that we now know the Fulcrum name originated from Anakin, did Barriss recognize the name and seek this mystery person out? I don't know it just feels again like more wasted potential.
Final Thoughts
Fuck this animation is good now! Can we get a new writer?
Like, even for the shit I was annoyed by, the entire show just looks fabulous. It makes me really really wish that ANYONE other than Filoni could make content in this style. Let the writers of Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor do a Merrin episode or a baby Cal episode. Or the people doing The Acolyte, let them do Tales of the High Republic! Let anyone other than Filoni have a chance to create within the world of Star Wars animated content.
#as always my ask box is open#i really do love talking about this#so if you've got thoughts you want to share or questions for me#i am always more than happy to respond#dave filoni critical#tales of the empire#rambles#morgan elsbeth#thrawn#barriss offee#star wars
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tumblr user feyburner, i have a confession. i don't know how to roast a chicken, or do anything with a chicken, and at this point i'm afraid to ask.
I can tell you're afraid to ask bc this isn't really a question. But I will answer it anyway. I'm always happy to talk about chicken.
You’ll be pleased to learn that roasting a chicken is so easy. The below explanation is quite long bc I am including all the information I can remember, to set you up for chicken roasting success. But, essentially, you’re rubbing a chicken in oil and seasonings and putting him in the oven for like an hour. Done.
Remember that people have been roasting whole chickens since the dawn of time using whatever they had around bc it’s the most low effort, high reward meal ever. You could say the word “salt” in a chicken’s general direction and toss him at a candle flame and he would still turn out great.
To roast a chicken:
Buy a whole chicken, however big you want. 4-5 lbs is enough to feed 3-5 people with leftovers.
Prepare a workspace with a plastic cutting board (not wooden bc raw chicken juices) and paper towels.
Remove the giblets, pin feathers, extra flaps:
1. Stick your hand up his primary orifice and pull out anything loose. There is usually a handful of little organs like heart and gizzards and sometimes these strings of pale bean looking things (tbh not sure what those are). Save these for stock, except the liver (super dark squishy organ) which will disintegrate. You can eat the liver separate if you want.
2. Trim off any sticky-outy bits that have pin feathers on them, and the flaps of fat/gristle over his orifice. Save the fatty bits for stock. Leave the triangle of fat directly above the orifice (his tail).
Pat the chicken dry with paper towels inside and out. Get him as dry as possible.
Spatchcock: You don’t have to spatchcock/butterfly but I like to, bc it maximizes outer surface area for that good good crispy skin. Also easier to get breasts and thighs done at the same rate.
All you have to do is cut the backbone out of the chicken with poultry shears or kitchen scissors if you’re desperate. Then push down hard to crack the breastbone so he lies super flat. Save the backbone for stock or jus. How to spatchcock step by step guide.
Dry brine: Prepare a bowl of coarse kosher salt. More salt than you’d think. Like 1 Tbsp per lb of meat. Rub salt over the whole chicken inside and out. Don’t skimp on the salt especially on the inside. It will not make your chicken crazy salty, it doesn't penetrate the meat that deep. Also some will be wiped off before you cook.
Put the chicken on a wire rack on a baking sheet and chill uncovered in the fridge for 2-24 hours. The point of this step is the salt draws moisture to the surface of the chicken, which then evaporates in the circulating fridge air. It helps you get crispy chicken skin.
Dry brine + resting isn't 100% necessary, if for some reason you must produce a roasted chicken on a time crunch. But it's a good practice.
Roasting time:
Pat excess moisture off chicken inside and out. If you did not spatchcock you can stuff the inside with a halved lemon or garlic head, herbs, whatever you want.
Seasoning rub: Prepare a small bowl with olive oil (maybe 1/4-1/3 cup?), salt, freshly cracked black pepper, and whatever dried herbs and spices you want. A good starter is: salt, pepper, parsley sage rosemary thyme, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder. I love me some Cajun spice mix like Slap Ya Mama. Start with like 1-2 tsp of each (1 tsp spices, 2 tsp dried herbs) and build from there. Don’t be shy. Recipes on the internet are like “Use 1/2 tsp herbs for this whole recipe” because they’re heading off 1-star reviews from annoying people who can’t handle a molecule of flavor. Season with your heart, your pussy, and your balls. Don’t be ashamed to use a store-bought spice rub. It’s not lazy, it’s efficient. Also, who gives a shit.
Rub the oil all over Mr. Chicken like he’s an Ancient Greek warrior-prince you’re preparing for the Olympic Games.
Some recipes tell you to use butter, or slip butter under the skin, but butter has higher water content than oil and might not get you the ideal crispy skin. You can do whatever you want though. It’s your chicken.
Preheat the oven to 425°. People will tell you a billion different temperatures—screaming hot, low and slow—but I’m here to tell you that it is so hard to fuck up a roast chicken, you can experiment and the results will always be great.
I like to start at a high temp for 30 minutes to get the skin crisping and then reduce to 375° for the rest of the time to avoid burning. Sometimes you’ll have to cover him with foil if the seasonings start charring. That’s fine.
General cook time: 20 minutes per lb of meat, give or take 20 depending on oven temp. A 4-5 lb chicken at 425° -> 375° generally takes me ~1 hour 20 minutes. If you do low and slow at like 325° it might take 2+ hours. Just check on him periodically. Tbh it’s harder to overcook a chicken than you probably think. 5 minutes, or even 10-20 minutes, is NOT the difference between beautiful tender juicy chicken and a bone-dry tragedy. Chicken is not turkey. He is versatile and he can take it.
Pull the chicken when a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part reads 145° or above. (160° is the “safe temp” but 1. The temp will continue to rise for a few minutes after it leaves the oven, and 2. 160° is the temp at which bacteria dies immediately. 145° is fine for eating. Disclaimer: I am not a scientist just a guy who makes a lot of chicken.)
If you don’t have a thermometer, pull the chicken when you insert a knife into the thickest part and the juices run clear. Gorgeous.
Let him sit for 10-20 minutes before carving. When carving, find the oysters and give them to your favorite person or take them as the Cook’s Bounty.
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Again, this explanation is quite long because I included lots of detail. If you do it even one time, you'll realize it's incredibly easy and intuitive and doesn't take much time at all.
Godspeed!
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Just to show how systemically weird this anti-found family bs has been in spn fandom, one of the co-mods of the largest, oldest spn fandom website despises found family and the ensemble cast. It's been some years now since that website did anything or showed any relevance at all, so good riddance, but it does demonstrate how the lane that supports the brothers the most got hijacked by hatred. And that side seems to think the only way to be a "bros fan" is be...just like them, you must go on bended knee and vow your exclusive devotion to the "bro bond" and if you show any signs of caring about found family too much, you will be expelled from the holy church of Sam and Dean and aren't a fan. Reality is that many fans love the bro bond who overlap heavily with the found family, holistic love for spn, love TFW, Cas, Misha, Donna, Jody, Rowena, and others, ship Destiel or at least are conscious of why it matters even if it's not their thing (or if they hate it, they don't make it a crusade to hate it), and care about Sam and about Dean and about Cas. One of the weirdest things about spn fandom has been how its self-labeled "core base" of "bros fans" punishes fans who actually like the show overall. And it's been like this since 2005.
I understand the roots of it since the first 2 seasons were a lot smaller in scale. But even the first 2 seasons made it clear the show was about family and found family.
Rewatching spn removed from bad faith fandom narratives is a really good idea. The story itself, the canon, is...it's right there. And always has been.
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Lost Fic #181
1. i can’t remember the name of a fic it was a ‘Raphael was Crowley before the fall’ type fic, and it was one where Crowley could still use his archangel skills even after his fall. in part of it, Michael shows up and starts talking (maybe yelling) at Crowley and Crowley shows her (him?them?) that he used to be Raphael and that he can still summon his archangel staff. the fic might’ve been a 5+1 fic but i cannot be too sure Thanks!!!! - @cosmxc-ars3hol3
2. hi! thank you so much for the work you do in this blog!!! i lost a fic that i read years ago. human au and i think crowley owns a flowershop? i think there was a part in the fic where aziraphale has to leave the bookshop for quite a while for a book deal and crowley decides to fill the front of the bookshop with all kinds of plants and flowers before aziraphale comes back. i was wondering if u folks or ur followers can recognize this fic 🥹 im not sure if im remembering this correctly so i apologize. and thank you once again!! - anon
3. Hello! I was wondering if you could help me find a fic with Crowley as a florist and Newt as his assistant. There's a scene where Az visits the flower shop and when he introduces himself to Newt, Newt says something like "You're the cute bookshop owner Crowley was talking about," or something. I'm not entirely sure if Az is a bookshop owner in this AU. I've been trying to find it using the Flowershop AU tag on AO3 but with no luck. Thank you for your help! - anon
4. hi, I really love perusing the almost limitless recs you have here and am always so amazed how you are able to find so many fics people have lost track of. So I was hoping I could ask for your help in finding one I cursedly did not bookmark once a upon a time. It had three chapters I believe and started during the future war between heaven and hell. Crowley dies on the battle field and the earth is destroyed and a new world is created, where Aziraphale becomes the new earths satan equivalent. He's also lost his memory of the previous world and ends up magic mirror/window staking this new angel and demon pair that make him feel like his lost something inconceivably important. It was really incredible and it would be lovely to experience it again. thanks so, so much for all your incredible work - @tomato-soup-and-cats
5. Hello! I hope you are having a lovely. Unfortunately I have lost a fic that I really enjoyed and despite quite a bit of scouring, I haven’t been able to find it again. For anyone else reading this the description of the fic will have some spoilers for season two. In this fic, the Metatron kills what he believes to be Crowley, much to Aziraphale’s dismay. Aziraphale shows up at Crowley’s flat to threaten and scare away the Metatron and there is also some crying over what he believes to be Crowley’s remains. However, Crowley managed to store and use a spare corporation to trick the Metatron into killing him. Crowley also steals and book of life and miracles it to look like a pair of his sunglasses. I can’t help but love a bit of angst with a happy ending so I’d greatly appreciate any help you can provide. - @kittykat2005
If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)
- Mod D
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Okay y’all, I just finished episode 5, here are some of my thoughts on it!
SPOILERS
-Bruh this bald bitch Xavier is getting on my NERVES. Like I get why you did what you did but you REALLY had to go to get some space girlfriend instead of helping your X-Men? Like I think Magneto KNEW he was going to space because he even mentioned how Xavier went with his Shi’ar Queen- that’s WILD
-Also I didn’t think I realized the magnitude (heh heh, get it?) of what Magneto did until this episode. He does realize he’s probably killing an assload of mutants too right? Like bro has good points but I think killing thousands of people including mutants and like the entire planet may be a tad too far
-Why were they in space when Xavier met with President Kelly? Did I miss something?
-I wasn’t surprised that Rouge joined magneto, but Roberto joining threw me through the loop. I get why, I just didn’t expect it. I mean I’m proud of him though. I wish there was more time before the final battle so we could see Roberto interacting with Magneto and Rouge since we’ve only ever seen him and Jubilee together. (more in next bulletin point about those two) I just feel like there could have been more character interactions in general here. Too much was focused on just fighting. Like how the hell did we go from having 12 hours to 1 so quickly? The fuck????
-More about Rouge, loved her talk with Professor X, you tell ‘em Rouge! Also I love that she wore Gambit’s jacket, I thought it was really sweet.
-Roberto worrying about hurting Jubilee? AWKDKGBDLFN MY HEART AHENGELFKDK like I don’t really know how J feel about romance with them but their friendship and stuff is so adorable and then to have it break like that! Like of course Jubilee would be mad! Roberto effectively went against her family!
-My Queen, my absolute GODDESS storm returned! Yay! I loved the little sister moment Jean and her shared. She had some super cool fighting scenes though, I love how they animate her abilities. I don’t like how my QUEEN GOT MURKED AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! So unfair
-Real talk why the FUCK did they send Wolverine to confront Magneto? Honestly Magneto could have done what he did at the end at literally any point, dude was playing it nice. Also, my Morphine loving ass really wishes there was a goodbye scene between Morph and Logan. I mean K know he’s gonna be okay though. It’s Wolverine. I hope we actually get to see more of his healing abilities, we never get too see those….. I mean he is going to be okay, right? My heart cannot take Logan dying he’s like one of my favorite X-Men. Honestly I feel like X-Men 97 haven’t really been doing him right. But it’s pretty much the Scott and Jean show so, go figure
-More on Morph: they got called THEM again!!! That made me so happy! :) but I was a little bit confused when Rouge said something along the lines of: “Morph barely joined our team for 30 minutes and we threw them to the wolves” what does that mean? Am I missing something? Is it from the original show? Because I didn’t watch it so if someone could explain please do!!
-As for Cable, it was really cool to see his powers get shown off! That was awesome. I like the interaction he had with Scott too. Honestly ever since they introduced Cable I was hoping for a Deadpool cameo, hopefully for season two. A girl can only dream.
-Then onto Nightcrawler! Once again my dude has AWESOME GOATED fighting skills!!!!!! We love him. I was surprised he didn’t really try to talk Rouge down during the battle but that fight was way too fast paced. I really liked the scene with the Rosary. I don’t really know why since I’m not religious or anything, I just thought that it was a nice touch.
-Gonna do Scott and Jean in one I guess. I liked the fight between Jean and Mr.Sinister. I think it’s crazy that she could telepathically communicate with Scott that far away. That’s cool. I hope Cable doesn’t kill her. On another note, I love Scott and Jean. Like this show has done WONDERS for Scott’s character but why does EVERYTHING have to be about them?! They’re like the only two characters that got like any character time the entire episode!
-And then because apparently I decided to do everyone I might as well say stuff about Beast, next I’ll do Magneto. (Can you tell this wasn’t planned at all and I’m just rambling lmao?) anyway, Beast was pretty chill here. I always like the little quips he throws out during a fight, and I like that he’s friends with Forge. He is a very swag dude. I’m a little surprised to see him hanging around near the reporter still, especially since she was revealed to be a sentient bot thing and like Roberto said, she somewhat chose to be turned into something that would fight against mutants. But beast is a very peaceful and forgiving person, so I suppose it makes sense.
-Finally, Magneto! Fun fact throughout this entire thing I kept spelling it magneato because I think he’s mag-neat-o (I should be burned at the stake). Well, I would say that if I didn’t think he was a FUCKING IDIOT! Bro another PLANET?! Please tell me how he was planning on loading every mutant up to another planet. I would LOVE to know. There were different ways he could have gone about it, but NOPE. Also- LEECH ACTUALLY DIED?! CKDIFNSKGKELGL SOBBING ACTUALLY SHED A TEAR- like I don’t know what I should have expected but I’m still sad about it. So I guess a huge part of this is a product of grief not just for Genosha but also Leech. God that’s so sad bro-
Forge- unfortunately not much to say here :( I do hope he’s okay though! He’s a really good pilot and very smart!
Overall, I just think this episode was way too rushed. I wish there were more character moments. I mean the professor isn’t dead? Hell I would have punched that old man in the face! I really think the first season should have been longer. I know people disagree but I just want to see more things between other characters that don’t feel so rushed. That’s all I want. I want to see more of my faves instead of having them constantly thrown to the side.
#x men 97#x men 97 episode 9#opinion#spoilers#logan x morph#Morph#wolverine#jean gray#ororo munroe#beast xmen#professor x#magneto#jubilee#roberto da costa#X-men Rouge#Nightcrawler#scott summers#nathan summers#Forge
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