#Lady Jockey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trendywaifus · 4 months ago

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SCREAMPIED !

— there seems to be a second serial killer who has their eyes on you. but it seems like they came for you for a different reason. will they be a failure like the last one was? ↳ INSPIRED BY SCARY MOVIE.

a/n — ngl i put more thought to this than the last one so think of this as the better sequel. it’s long btw.

part one

↳featuring ghost face! transfem! feixiao x fem! reader

GENRE — THRILLER, COMEDY, FORCED ROMANCE

WARNINGS — 2000’s COLLEGE AU, UNPROTECTED SEX, ORAL FIXIATION, CUNNINGLIUS, CREAMPIE, CURSING, TEASING, SLIGHT KNIFE PLAY, SIZE KINK, PENTRATION, VAGINAL PENETRATION, MIND DUMBFICATION, POSSESSIVE FEIXIAO

“ it seems like events are repeating theirselves once again as there’s been another murder, not one, but two this time, “ the blonde newsreporter stood in front of your college campus in the middle of the night as she emphasizes her words, “ that’s right folks you heard me, two murders happened right on this campus yesterday night involving a twenty–five old male, caelus and a twenty—four year old, dan heng. “

previously leaning back into the sofa, utterly bored out of your mind, you hastily scoot your butt to the edge of the cushion, jaw slacking in shock. “ oh my god? dan heng and caelus? what the fuck, why? how? “ you didn’t know the two very well but they were very popular around the college. caelus was an average jockey who was apart of the football team and dan heng was the quiet boy you’ll mostly see at the back of a classroom or in a library. the only reason why they was so popular is because they were seen with each other a lot—well it was mostly because of caelus following dan heng around like a puppy. they fit the stereotypical quiet boy and jock boy romance bullshit. it was cute as fuck but god it felt like you were a background character witnessing a yaoi manga in real time.

the news reporter walks around the half empty campus, looking for poor college students to interview. since it was halloween night, there was a good amount of people hanging around the campus in halloween costumes. “ i’m sorry, young man—i mean young lady, do you have a second?” the lady walks up to a person and the camera panels to a tall, grey-haired woman wearing a baggy tracksuit who strikes a strong sense of familiarity in you. her sun colored eyes glances between the camera and the news reporter in confusion. their voices blur in your ears as your pensive gaze lingers on the familiar woman currently on camera. your mind flashes back to last halloween where you fucked the shit out of a dumbass killer who broke into your house and looked just like her. “ am i genuinely tripping right now or is this who i think it is? “ you blink several times at the screen, “ is she at the same fucking campus i’m going to?! how in the fuck have i not seen her until conveniently now? bullshit. “

her soft voice rings through the mic, “ caelus was my brother and— “

you let out a string of curses, snatching the remote from the table and angrily changed the channel to some shitty slasher movie. “ she’s caelus’s sis? and a hot one at that. ugh, that makes so much sense because they look like twins. i knew she looked familiar when i unmasked her. i bet she’s the one who did it. maybe i should snitch—wait, since i knew about her and fucked her, would i get arrested for swallowing and letting her nut in me? what would i call that? guilty by fucking. .?”

actually. . .you changed your mind. if she does it again next halloween that’s when you’ll report her. yeeah. but then again, why would she even kill her own brother and his boyfriend? that’s some fucked up sibling beef. but you know one thing, she better not try and fuck with you again—

ring ring !

“ son of a. . .” you reach for your house phone on the table beside the sofa and bring the phone to your ear. “ hello? “ you hold your breath as you wait for the person the other line to speak.

“ . . .hi, (name)? “ your friend’s high-pitched voice, march, comes through the speaker. you let out the most heaviest sigh of relief.

“ good it’s you. march, question. .did you know that caelus had a sister? “ you inquire, leaning your body back into the soft cushion, idly watching the slasher chase his victim on tv.

“ umm, yeah? “ she replies back with a matter-of-fact tone. “ her name’s stelle, she’s apart of the girl’s varsity basketball team but you really only see her at the gym, track, and other athletic clubs. i think i have one core class with her but she’s really quiet and a little weird. let’s just say she’s the total opposite of caelus in terms of popularity and personality. which is sad ‘cus she’s such a hottie too. . “ well, stelle sure wasn’t the total opposite with you. “ by the way, you heard about caelus and dan heng right? i’m genuinely shocked that they got shanked! they were so good together—maybe the killer is a homophobe?”

“ march, don’t start. “ you groaned, running a lazy hand through your hair. march loves to gossip and gets wild with her speculations at times. though, they are pretty entertaining as the rumors she tells you about from being apart of the cheerleading team and photography club.

“ hear me out! last year there was multiple murders in our town but only two of them were students from our campus. the snazzy guy, aventurine who liked to make crazy bets to earn money and sunday, the student council and robin’s brother. “

“ um, so? “

march sighs, “ there was rumors that aventurine messed around with vertus ratio in y’know, that way so people were speculating that they had a thing. sunday was also caught with adventurine during— “

you cut her off, “ march, i don’t know if anyone told you this but like, half of the men here are into hot dogs. like, they’d definitely have a huge sausage party if all of them were to get together. so, the killer wouldn’t be homophobic if over half of the men at our college likes ding-a-lings. “

“ ughhh, these killings seem pretty targeted if you ask me. but i have to go, i need to go through my camera. i took some photos of cool costumes people was wearing. i’ll talk to you tomorrow bestie, bye~ “ she ends the call and you set the phone back down where it belongs.

you sit there in silence, spacing out. the whole situation is pretty weird and the fact that you were previously targeted counters march’s claims. to you, the killings were just random and unhinged like stelle. you just don’t know understand how someone goofy as her can possibly be responsible for the murders. who gives a shit though, you’ll just fuck stelle and pretend the whole thing is a porno if she comes back to try again.

ringgggg !

your shoulders slack in annoyance and you reach for the buzzing phone again. “ hello? it’s getting late, call me tomorrow—“

a muffled, raspy voice interrupts you, “ what’s your scary movie, doll face? “

you let out a sigh, not an ounce of fear invoked in your heart. you’re not scared this time from already experiencing this. “ oh, so you came back for more, stelle? i just saw you on the news. “ a snort leaves your smirking lips. “ are you actually going to kill me this time? “ the mysterious voice laughs with mirth, and somehow it sounds different from before.

“ this is not stelle. you scared her away, which i’m impressed about. but i’m not here to kill you baby, oh no, “ their voice lowers a pitch as they rasp, “ i was hoping to get my hands on your pretty ass, ‘been wanting you for a long time now. shoulda’ been me who got fucked instead of her. now to start things off, why not answer my question— “

“ oh, so i attracted another one. fuckin’ great. didn’t see that one coming. “ you say sarcastically, hanging up the phone right in that weirdo’s face. “ like damn, my pussy gotta be a magnet now if another one is stalking me. they gotta have some skype slasher group chat going on. .“ it hasn’t even been five minutes and the phone goes off again. you smack your lips, picking up the phone once more.

“ yo. “

“ hanging up on me is pretty rude, pup. i’m trying to be patient for you and i’m generally an impatient person.— “

you roll your eyes, “ choke on a dick, jackass. “

“ hehe, you’re going to be choking on mines by tonight— “

“ don’t care, bucko. just because i fucked your friend doesn’t mean shit. i’m not going to answer your question either. if you want your dick blown, have that dumbass hottie friend of yours to do it. bye. “

you slammed the house phone down and got up from the couch. “ i’m going to wash my ass, fuck this shit.“

forgotten about the shitty horror movie playing in the background, you left the living room and made your ways towards the stairs to take a shower. oh, no, hopefully the big bad killer won’t secretly follow you upstairs and get you while you’re taking a shower. you roll your eyes with a dry laugh at the thought. “ cover for me, “ you pat the large piano that you somehow stationed at the top of the stairs, “ if not, i’m ripping out your keys like they’re damn press-on fingernails, okay? “ the piano responds back with hurried high notes as it slightly trembles. you don’t even know why your father has a piano in the house, neither you or him can play for shit. you really only say that you have a piano to score the magneta—haired babe who’s into classical music. what was her favorite song again? dramatic epiphany?

“ atta girl. “

you take your shower without any disturbance. well, your soap kept “slipping” from your hand so you had to bend down a few times to get it. (un)fortunately a dick didn’t magically appear and stick itself in you. steam spills into your bedroom as you walk out of the misty bathroom with a tank top and shorts on, drying your hair with a towel wrapped around your shoulders. as you made your way back downstairs, you lazily thanked the piano. “ thanks. i guess i’ll have to play with you sometime as a reward. “

you ignore the cheery high notes hitting your ears as you walk down the steps.

and as soon as you stepped inside of the living room, the phone rings again. you angrily picked up the house phone for the third time within two hours. you drape the towel over your shoulder as you plop down on the sofa. “ this is the third fucking time you called my damn phone! “ you barked, pausing the cheesy horror film you forgot was on while taking a “quick”one hour shower, “ take a hike you fuckin’ bum! and don’t even bother asking me about what my damn favorite scary movie is because i don’t have one! there! stelle was somehow less annoying than you are! “

nothing but heavy breathing can be heard on the other line and if you listen closely, you can hear wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. “ fucck, “ the killer’s voice groans out, “ keep yelling, i’m almost finished. .mm. .“

“ you got to be fucking kidding me. “ you mutter irritably, face crunching up with disgust.

“ you sound so sexy when you’re upset, i love it. ‘that’s just how i want my girl to be. “ they continue to speak in a strained voice, “ and i’m jealous that you keep mentioning that girl when i’m here. by the end of this night, you’ll be expecting me instead around every halloween~ “

“ fuck off, loser! “ you snarl through gritted teeth, “ what i’m expecting from you is to stop calling my phone and leave. me. alone.”

“ no, because i’m already here~ “

on cue, they casually pop out into the doorway of your kitchen with their own phone near their masked head, dressed in the similar ghoulish outfit like last halloween. their statue seems a bit taller or just as tall as stelle’s. you shoot up from the couch, the towel that was once on your shoulder falls to your feet. you clutch the house phone, ready to use it as a weapon. “ what the fuck? how did you get in here? “

chuckling lowly, they lean into the doorway, crossing their arms in a relaxed manner. “ you have a habit of leaving your back door open, a bad habit for such a pretty girl like you who’s constantly home alone. though, i’m not complaining. it made things easier for me~ “ they purred.

“ yeah? w-well, come at me! this ain’t my first rodeo, creep! “

“ and it certainly won’t be your last, baby. “ they remarked smoothly, stepping into the living room. heat simmers in your belly. damn, had they not been some weirdo, you would’ve of just let them have it and keep your panties as a trophy.

“ try me! “ you chucked the phone at the unwanted guest and sprinted towards the dining room. you can easily just loop in the kitchen, tire them out, and head toward upstairs for the piano. “ oh i will baby, all nighhht! “ they run after you, quick on their feet. you dash through the dining room and into the kitchen, hauling over to the rectangular counter conveniently at the middle of the kitchen. they let out a amused laugh as they realized your plan.

“ really, pup? you can’t possibly think you’re going to outwit me with this boring trick. c’mon, you don’t have to make it harder for us, i swear i won’t hurt ya!”

you take a hurried step to the side, they do the same. “ fuck you! “ you grab an apple from the fruit bowl and threw it at the other end of the counter. they easily dodge it and seize the chance to dash towards your end. you took off running to the other end and it repeats for a few minutes. you can tell they were getting frustrated from the way they would curse and slam their fist onto the marble surface whenever they fail to outsmart your loops.

“ damnit girl, it’s starting to get hot under this thing! as much as i want to play ring around the rosy with you, i can hardly move with this on! just be a good girl and come over here so i bend you over this counter!“ they growled impatiently, mirroring every step you take. you move to the left, they move to the left. you move to the right, they move to the right. “ fuck no, stupid bitch! “

they click their tongue with a plan in mind. “ if that’s how you want to play it, “ they bait you by acting like they’re running to your end and as soon as you sprint halfway to the other side, they quickly slide over the counter. you let out a troubled scream as the triumphant killer throws their arms around you and yank you into their solid body. “ gotcha baby~—hey, watch your damn elbow! “ they narrowly dodge your elbow jabbing at their head.

“ l-lemme go! “ you cried out, kicking and thrashing in their tight hold.

“ nah, not when you made me work for it, girlie. now, stop struggling orr. .” you feel something sharp pressed against your neck. they chuckle darkly in your ear.

“ ugh! oh no, you have a knife against my neck, i guess i have to follow whatever you say or some shit. ” you grumble sarcastically in defeat, relaxing in her arms.

“ hehe, that’s my girl. at least you know how to play your part as the main girl well, hm? “ they turn you around and back you up against the counter. your opposer towers over you, trailing their knife gently along your jaw and tap it under your chin. a pleased hum leaves them as they shamelessly admire your features. “ wow, “ they awe breathlessly, the cool metal gradually runs down your neck, “ now that i’m up close and personal, you look like a fine piece of work, baby. fuck, i’m jealous stelle got to you first—which is why i killed her brother and his butt buddy. she was only suppose to scare you. ”

“ wh-what the fuck? who the hell are you? “

they rip off the ghostface mask and your eyes pop open like you seen a bunch of aliens walking around in the streets with thongs on. once again, you’re face to face with a familiar woman. long white tresses flutters down her shoulders, large, foxian ears spring out and stand tall as she looks down at you with her mischievous, piercing cerulean hues. how the hell did she get everything to fit into that mask?

“ f-feixiao? you’re that team captain from the woman’s varsity basketball team! “

feixiao smirks down at you, teeth baring. “ surprise~”she croons, her voice sounding much clearer and distinct. she’s popular amongst the girls in the college, a huge fuckgirl who you avoid like the plague. yeah, she’s the whole package but you find her a cocky tryhard who thinks she’s humble. “ it honestly could of been anyone but you. “

she juts out her bottom lip in a playful pout, ears slightly flattened. you know she’s pretending like the jester she is. “ what, you don’t like me? i did nothing to you. “

you cross your arms with a curled brow. “ that’s true. you did nothing to me but you did do something to a whole bunch of other girls. “ feixiao laughs, then licks her lips as her roughish gaze lowers at your exposed cleavage then back up into your eyes. she presses herself into you, bringing her lips to the shell of your ear. you feel something hard against your thigh. what’s up with women having dicks?

“ you don’t like that, pretty girl? i can always stop for you if you become my main girl. “ the white haired woman nibbles at your lobe and kisses at the spot right under your ear. you unfold your arms to grip the bulky edges of the counter behind you as she peppers damp kisses down the column of your neck. “ how many girls have you told that to? “ you bite your lip, holding back a groan.

“ jus’ you baby, promise. “ feixiao mutters against your skin, rocking her steady hips into yours. her knife trails down your cleavage and you stiffen. she chuckles at your jumpy reaction, and dips her head down to lap at the hardening bud through your tank top with her eager tongue. a short groan exits from your parted lips. feixiao cup the underside of your clothed breast and attach her hungry mouth to the bud. she suckles and firmly tugs until her spit ruins the fabric of your tank top.

“ damn, you know what. . “ feixiao carelessly tosses the knife on the counter behind you, abruptly pulls away, and releases your breast to lift up her inky hooded robe with one hand while the other fumble downward to unzip her ripped black jeans. your wandering gaze takes a glimpse of her abs, which tastefully protrude through the tight fabric of a black top underneath. damn. “ on your knees. “ she commands, desperation tainting her proud voice. you begrudgingly do so, waiting for feixiao to pull out her dick.

“ oh. .my god. “ you gawk as she finally frees herself. yeah, she’s definitely packing—a least two inches bigger than stelle. it’s slightly curved to the left, and girthy. you swallowed thickly. you see why the girls flock to her. feixiao smiles smugly at your big doe eyes, “ that’s the reaction i’ve been wanting to see,”considerate, gloved fingers gently push back the tousled locks from your eyes and into a ponytail. “ be my lady and you’d get to see this damn near every night, fuck every halloween. “

the tip of her cock playfully pokes at your lips. “ tempting, but no. i still don’t like you, feixiao. “

feixiao pouts before sighing with defeat despite not feeling discouraged by your answer. “ fine. i’m still not giving up, i bet you’ll change your mind by the time i’m done with you. now open up. “

you comply and feixiao momentarily release the hold from your hair to slowly slides herself in your moist mouth. only half of her is in and yet she feels heavy on your tongue. “ mmmh. . “ she sucks in a sharp breath, taking a brief moment to adjust. “ ‘gonna go slow, baby. “ feixiao groans, slowly rolling her hips into your mouth. your pillowy lips enclose around her shaft and your hands rest on her thighs. her fat cockhead graze the back of your throat before retreating away.

“ you look so pretty on your knees like this—damn, i might cream in your mouth right now from just looking at you. . “

your brows knit together. is she actually serious right now? there’s no way you got the biggest fuckgirl in your college, who also revealed herself to be a murder, saying shit like this. this has to be some sick halloween fantasy written by a horny bum with failing romance in their life.

feixiao slightly speeds up her moving hips, edging herself more down your throat as she thrusts. she tips her head back, becoming tipsy to the addicting warmth and wetness of your mouth. your spit coats her thick shaft, leaving behind a sheen. “ no gagging so far? hehe, you’re doing so well, pretty. .” feixiao moans out shamelessly, biting her bottom lip to the filthy, drawn out squelching noises producing from your stuffed mouth.

she grips your ponytail a little tighter, “ actually, i change my mind—fuck. .i might lose it if i go at this pace. breathe through your nose now, baby. i promise i’ll be quick! “

you rolled your eyes and nod your head, relaxing your jaw. she blurts out a cheery yes! then adjusts her footing. just like how feixiao wanted, she starts rutting into your mouth. you force out series of guttural sounds, but you don’t yield from her deep thrusts. your constricting walls swallow in her needy cock, earning strings of curses and groans. “ just what i-i thought, your throat feels amazing. i-i can only imagine what she feels like. . “ she moans, repeatedly snapping her sloppy hips into your mouth.

she? oh god, did feixiao really just refer to your pussy as a she? was this some sort of fuck girl slang?

beads of spit seep from the corners of your filled mouth and trickle down your chin like drool. your fingers slightly dig into her black pants as your gag reflex kicks in. feixiao pulls back just enough so her length lays heavy on your tongue, eagerly waiting to continue. “ i’m already half way there, hang in there.” she assures with unusual softness in her quivering voice, “ tap me once so i can keep going. “

and you do so, patting her thigh once. she starts again, shoving her cock back down your throat. your throat tightens on reflex and she whines, twitching. “ damn girl, now i’ll be almost there if you do that a—ohhhh. . “ feixiao grits her teeth, lolling her head down as you voluntarily close your walls around her. she feels stuck but stubbornly keeps thrusting, fucking your tight throat until she’s on the verge of cumming. “ th-the best—y-you’re the best. .sh-shit,”squeezing her eyes shut, sweat drips down to the tip of her nose,” i swear i wouldn’t n-need to talk and fuck any other girls if i had you. “ feixiao babbles, the cockiness in her voice is completely replaced with spiraling desperation.

the white–haired woman thrusts again and again, and stops suddenly as her fat, twitching cock fully squeezes through your throat. “ ‘gonna cum, b-baby. .” she holds your head still and thick, syrupy ropes shoots down your throat. heavy exhales escape from your nose while you swallow most of her load. “ good fuckin’ girl. . “ feixiao praises through a passionate whisper, and pulls away completely once you start to gag and choke. thank god for practicing your oral skills with your toothbrush routinely every morning and night or you would of left a colorful mess all over her dick. it’d be like one of those mainstream japanese shows where it shows the character vomiting. narudo z was it?

the bitter taste of her cum lingers on your tongue. it takes a minute for feixiao to stablize her breathing as she steadies herself on the counter. with a sigh, she stands upright and looks down at you with an easy smile. “ i’m not done with you yet. get up and gimme some sugar, yeah? “ she firmly pulls you up by the forearm, forcing you on your feet. feixiao hold your jaw between her thumb and index finger and maneuvers your head up at her. you cringe as her glowing ocean blue eyes bleed into yours. did they get brighter or some shit? you swear it wasn’t like that before.

she notices the squinty eyes and uncomfortable expression sitting on your face. “ what’s wrong, pup?”

“ it’s like i’m looking at a fucking blue glow stick in the dark. i see why people look the other way when they talk to you. “

feixiao pouts again, genuinely looking offended. “ okay, ouch? i can’t help the way my eyes are! i actually take pride in them. “

“ how unfortunate. imagine how awkward the sex would be if we do it missionary? if i can’t look you in the eyes while we fuck because of the risk of going blind, then that’s a hard pass for me. “ as if being a seasonal killer wasn’t already a hard pass.

“ haah? “ feixiao’s eyes go wide with surprise, “ don’t be like that! we can always work around that, i can have you on your stomach while i—“

“ i don’t want to hear it. just shut up and close your eyes before you kiss me. “

she grumps, complying with your demand. her disappointment almost instantaneously disappears by the soft caress of your perfect lips. feixiao’s tongue prod at the small opening between your lips and you allow her in with ease. a low moan resonates in her chest as the bitter taste of her seed in your mouth welcomes her senses. her tongue feverishly swirls around yours. she doesn’t care if the kiss is sloppy, she doesn’t care about her teeth occasionally clashing with yours—the only thing that’s on her mind right now is you, you, you.

once your chest start get to tight from the lack of oxygen, you lightly push feixiao away from your spit-coated lips by her biceps. even through the robe, you can feel the curled, firm muscle. string-like saliva stretch and dissipate between you and her. there’s carnal desire in her sky blue eyes as she peers down at you. “ my mouth and throst is feeling kinda dry right now, “ she whispers, gloved fingers unbuttoning your pajama shorts, “ how about you let me return the favor while i hyd–“

“ just eat me out. you already broken into my home and chased me and shit. “

feixiao laughs, sounding almost sheepish. “ i have no regrets doing it either, y’know. i also have no worries you’ll tell anyone too since that girl is still walking around scott free. “ well yeah, if you do tell, ‘pretty sure you’ll get fucking arrested too. she drops to her knees once she slides your shorts and ruined panties down to your ankles. the taller woman whistles with delight at the appetizing sight of your dripping pussy.

“ damn baby, did i get you this wet? “ her mouth salivates from watching your arousal slowly roll down your inner thigh.

“ no i just thought about killing myself. “

she raises a brow at you, spreading your legs out an inch wider. “ you dislike me so much that you’ll use that as your lie? “

“ yup. “

feixiao tsk, spreading your puffy folds with two fingers. “ my stubborn girl. even if i couldn’t get you to warm up to me so easily, at least she did. “ she laps up the trail and her eyes flutters at the delicious taste. without warning, she buries her face between your legs and give your bundle of nerves a spoiling amount of messy kisses. her tongue broadly licks at your soaked folds, collecting your sticky essence on her tongue. “ fuck.” you curse in a breathy voice, one of feixiao’s pierced fox ears twitch. she sloppily circles her tongue around your clit before sucking on it. feixiao sucks hard, causing your toes to curl.

feixiao grows hard again to the sounds of your labored breathing and shaky mewls. she drag her tongue to your fluttering entrance and acts as if she’s making out with you as her tongue teases your dripping hole. “ oh my god. . “ your hand flies down to grip her surprisingly soft locks. the thick tip of her tongue rushes a sloppy stripe back up your pussy. she kisses at the sweet spots that makes your knees visibly tremor. feixiao smiles smugly into your cunt, returning down to your drooling slit. she laps and obnoxiously slurps at the thick fluids dribbling out of you. her ministrations last for a few minutes until you become jumpy and sensitive.

“ best drink i had in a while, baby. mmhh. .” she mutters through hot breaths, sneaking a hand under her robe to stroke herself. she’s beyond excited—growing utterly impatient to fuck you dumb and reshape your insides into her home. no matter what insult you throw at her, how much you claim to dislike her; she’s not letting you go. you’re too good to let go. after all, she did kill for you. you droop your head to the side, a broken moan ripping itself from your raw throat as her tongue pushes inside. “ f-feixiao, fuckk—i. .” you stop yourself, swallowing back the words that’s threatening to spill from your glistening lips. feixiao lets out a strained sound similar to a moan and fists her cock until it’s angry red and swollen. you moan again at the vibration shooting through your heated body and fondle your breast with a clumsy palm. you pinch at the hardened nipple through your tank-top between slender fingers.

feixiao’s practically tongue fucking you, albeit hastily. your gummy walls squeeze her slimy muscle as you grind on her tongue. you’re becoming light-headed, hazy from the swelling pleasure clogging up your mind and body. “ feixiao, i-i want you—“ you blurt out impulsively. at this point, you just want to get fucked into oblivion, “ pl-please fuck me with your cock, your tongue i-isn’t enough. .”

she doesn’t waste a second to rip herself away from your pussy, not caring about the lower half of her face stained with your juices, and rushes up to her feet. she briefly steps back to remove the annoying robe from over her head and throws it aside on the floor. you finally get to see what she’s fully wearing under and it took every ounce of your being to not fall for her. a tight-fitted sleeveless turtneck top that shows off her athletic structure, sculpted milky arms, broad shoulders, fairly supple tits—shit! no matter what, you have to remind yourself that she’s a serial killer and a fuckgirl. she’s just a good fuck to finish off your eventful halloween night. “ anything you want, my pretty girl. jump. i’ll catch you.” you hurriedly step out of your shorts and undergarments pooling at your feet. with two hands clamped onto feixiao’s broad shoulders, you hop into her solid arms, wrapping your shaky legs around her waist. she secures you in her embrace, “ screw bending you over, i like this position better.” she comments, hoisting you up by the fat of your ass.

quickly, feixiao lines herself up with your throbbing pussy and guides you downward. you moan loudly as her girthy length fills up your empty pussy, stretching you out until you’re rubbing against her ripped jeans.“ nnghh. .s’tight, baby—damn, you’re so mine.” she growls possessively in your ear. you want to deny her but you can’t. the way she’s building up her momentum, jerking her hips sharply into your hole has you whimpering pathetically.

squuuish! slooosh! squuuish!

your slippery walls make it easier for her to go deeper and faster. you helplessly cling onto her for dear life, tangling your fingers into rivers of white tresses. it’s been a while since you been fucked good like this—the type of fuck that has you seeing constellations, drooling like a baby, and your mind made into someone’s home. “ m-more fei—fuck, moreeeee~” you babbled, bouncing on her fat cock without a care in the world. your slick smears the stiff fabric of her jeans and globs of it spill onto the tile floor. although strained, feixiao’s laugh rings through your ears. “ haha, fei? it looks like you’re g-giving into me~” she sing-songs, pounding your pussy with quick pistons of her ruthless hips.

feixiao’s curved shaft deliciously rub against your sweet spots, the swollen cockhead smack against your g-spot. you nearly scream as she rams right into it, “ yes! r-right there, pleasee, pleaseee! “ you’re sobbing, begging for a sweet release you’ve desperately been craving. she gives you a few lingering wet kisses on your hot cheek while she fucks you. “ you know i gotcha, my baby—hnngh. .! “

your pussy grips her cock like its afraid she’ll pull out and leave it empty. feixiao’s hips starts to stutter but she still keeps going on. you smash your lips against hers, kissing her sloppily and she gladly reciprocates back. your tongues twirl together, hot breaths combining into one.

“ mmph. . ! ❤︎ “

feixiao grinds her clumsy hips into the plush of your ass in a circular rotation, rubbing her twitching cock along your pulsating walls. a frothy ring forms near the base of her member that’s created by your slick and essence. you greedily suck on her tongue, tasting more of yourself. a guttural moan rumbles in her throat and she squeezes your ass. “ i never knew my girl was a freak. .” she breathes after you pulled away to moan.

“ mm, i-i’m not your girl. “ you slurred.

she chases after you and gently pull at your bottom with her fanged teeth. “ like hell you’re not. you already got me more in love, you think–mmh, after all of this i’d leave you alone? haha, no. shit. .i’m about to cum, sweetness. “

before you can say argue back, she thrusts hard into you one last time, forcibly provoking a surprised scream and an eye rolling orgasm from you. you and feixiao cum together in sync. “ t-take it all, baby~” she purrs, spurting her hot seed deep inside of you, painting your walls the color of her hair. you cling onto her, cumming violently on her dick. mixed, syrupy cum spills from your seeping hole and adds onto the growing puddle on the floor. foamy bubbles produce as she dumps the rest of her load into you. “ ‘full—i feel s’full, feixiao. . “ you whimper, shifting uncomfortably in her arms as a ball of hotness circulates in the pits of your stomach.

“ i know, pup. let’s stay like this for a little bit, i wanna hold my girl for a little while longer. “

you weakly smack your lips as she refers to you as her girl for the umpteenth time tonight.

“ wh-what did i tell you about—whatever makes you sleep better at night. .” you grumble, resting your chin on her broad shoulder while coming down from your high.

“ i’ll sleep even better now knowing that you’re mine~” you deeply frown at the smile in her smug voice.

fuck, what have you done? not only did you fuck two serial killers, but you have one of them on your ass.

please don’t make a continuation of this, i actually don’t want to end up in some threesome next year. thanks dumbass.

#halloween special #feixiao x reader #feixiao smut #honkai star rail women x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader

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hayleylovesjessica · 3 months ago

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I'm still thinking about Conclave, which we saw earlier. One of the things that I liked about it is that it was funny! At least, I and a bunch of other people thought so. Some of us were laughing so much (particularly in the scene in which Isabella Rossellini did her little curtsy like she was serving cunt) that some lady a couple rows in front of us shouted, "It's not a comedy!" Well, when you have a film that puts a bunch of bitchy little men together and has them jockey for power, that's a recipe for comedy, and honey, I'm sorry that you couldn't appreciate the comedy in the movie, but that's on you! Anyway, I joked with my partner afterward that those of us who were laughing were Catholic, while the lady complaining that the movie wasn't a comedy was a Protestant! ✝️🎥🤣

#Conclave

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sloppysequinz · 6 months ago

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I have this fantasy that I’ve had for ages about being the powerless queen of a warring country in a world where decadent women are used to show off power. The more prosperous and stable your kingdom, the fatter and drunker and lazier the noble ladies can be.

My absent husband, the king, finally wins the conquest war all the kingdoms have been fighting. He hosts the unification banquet in our halls. He brings me in to show off. My servants have been feeding me a steady stream of wine since I woke up this morning, so I’m swaying and staggering as I enter. My clothes are luxurious, amazing quality fabric, but made tight and thin show off the softness of my body.

I get passed from leader to leader around the hall, sitting in their laps as they all give me food and drink, showing how they’ll contribute to the decadence of the empire. Eager to be a good queen, I suck down wine and ale and scraps from the lord’s feast plates eagerly, opening my mouth for more and more, letting them pour wine down my throat, gulping from tankards. There’s a cheer when my gut busts loose from my dress, bloated with ale and rich feast food. By the time I get to the end, I’m so drunk I can barely lift my head, my attendants lift me from lord to lord.

Then the king gets the idea that they should all fuck me. That way, when the heir is born, they’ll all have an equal claim and there won’t be any fighting. All the lords are too drunk and stupid horny for me to see any flaws in this plan. My husband starts, bending me over the table to show off his huge cock as it pounds into me. I moan like the drunk whore I am, so excited to finally be fucked by the man who has been gone so long.

Then I get passed around again, getting bounced on each lord’s cock until they cum inside me, grunting like animals when they cum. More booze and food are shoved down my throat as they fuck me. I greedily swallow as I should, even though my gut is a hard ball and I can barely breathe. More and more of my clothes are ripped away by my body and the lords, jockeying eagerly to be the next who cums inside me. Thick ropes of white seed are pouring down my legs.

I can’t make it through the final stretch. I black out as my husband fucks my cum and alcohol and food bloated body for a second time in front of all the men he’s conquered. My last fading thought is that I’m so proud to have done my duties as a queen for him today.

#intox

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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 months ago

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Delicate (Jake's Version)

1 - Iceman's Daughter

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: swearing (as usual) and Jake just getting shit from everyone

WC: 2.5k

A/N: So I'm borrowing the twins idea...so Tyler and Jake are twins so those stories will coincide at some point. Enjoy please! Don't be a silent reader either!

Playlist

Sam didn't need a damn thing in this world. Not a thing. She certainly didn't need a man. She certainly didn't need any of these cowboy fighter pilots in Fightertown. They all seemed to want to flirt with her, but it always ended there. No one ever made a move because of who her father was.

Iceman.

U.S. Pacific Fleet Commander Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky.

Her father was one of the highest ranks in the Navy. And when she walked in a room, in a bar, or almost anywhere in Miramar, California, people knew exactly who’s daughter she was.

To say that Sam wanted for nothing was an understatement. Sam would consider herself well off with her almost brand new truck, that yes, daddy did buy, and all her pretty clothes, that yes, daddy did buy for her. She flaunted the fact that her dad bought everything for her. So it was no surprise that there hadn't been a man who could match up. Especially where Sam was much smarter than most of them, and worked harder than most of them too. She had a younger brother and sister, Mark and Alexandra, who were both in high school. Sarah, their mom, had always been a stay at home mom, and took the best care of them all, while Iceman did his duty. He provided a beautiful home, and whatever they wanted or needed.

But it didn't stop the guys from trying.

As she stepped through the open doors at The Hard Deck, a local bar where most of the military personnel hung out, Sam made a vow to herself. None of these stick jockeys were getting in her pants. Not now, not ever. These guys weren't getting a single thing from Sam. She went toward the bar and sat, noticing the sign that said ‘disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your phone on my bar, you buy a round’ and she made sure to keep her phone off the bar.

“Nice touch, Penny, the sign’s new, huh?” She asked the brunette woman behind the bar. Penny had known Samantha since she was little and it had been about two years since she’d seen her. Penny whipped around and a huge smile that went all the way up to her eyes formed as she nearly ran to Sam.

“You’re back!” She exclaimed as she hugged Sam tight. “And you graduated?”

“I did. Dad was able to make it too.” Sam said, her tone turning slightly solemn. Penny hugged her again, tighter this time.

“I heard he’s not doing well...” Penny said quietly to her and Sam nodded.

“Yeah. So I’m home for now. Working remotely so that I can be here for as long as I need to.” Sam explained. “I’m meeting a friend here.”

“Well, it’s five so the entirety of the Navy should be showing up soon. Speaking of...” Penny said, glancing at someone as they came in. Someone that Sam also knew.

“Mav.” Sam said as Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell walked up and pulled her into a hug. He then sat and his eyes traveled to Penny. Sam knew they had some history, so she checked her phone and then saw Maverick turn to her.

“Tell your dad thanks for saving my ass. Again.” Maverick said and Sam laughed.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked and he explained that he was there on a special assignment. Sam nodded and felt a hand at her back. She turned to see her friend Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. Another big hug and when the two parted Nat had a big smile on her face.

“I’m so happy you’re here. I’m glad I’ll have a friend to go to the beach with while we’re on assignment.” She said and Sam smiled wide. “And you can tell me all about Harvard and all those boys you met. By the way, you look super pretty as always.” Sam had worn a pretty, lacy dress, pink on the top and blue with flowers on the skirt. She had dressy flip flops on and her phone which had her wallet with her cards and cash attached to the case.

Nat said shed be back in a few and went over to the other Naval Aviators that were there. Sam took a moment and glanced around, taking in the familiarity of it all. There were the tables and high tops on one side, some booths here and there, and then there was a jukebox, a piano, and a pool table overlooking the view of the ocean. The sun was going down so the rays were shining in through the windows, creating interesting shadows.

She hadn’t even noticed the other aviators filing in, all meeting in the corner with the pool table. There was a tall blond, another blond with glasses, a rather handsome black guy about the same height as the first blond, and a shorter Hispanic man. They were all dressed in tan uniforms, names on their right chest, patches and wings on their left. All well put together.

Sam ordered a cider beer, and took a sip. That was the biggest thing she missed about Harvard. Every bar around had a different cider beer. She was going to miss being there in the chilly autumn months when the leaves were changing colors and falling, and everyone was decorating stupid early for Halloween. Penny smiled back at her as she chatted with Maverick, noticing Sam had seemed to be stuck in a daydream, her pink lips on the edge of the bottle opening. She was deep in thought until more of the tan uniforms walked in. A blond with a mustache who wore a Hawaiian shirt, whom she knew as Rooster, then a bearded black guy, two asian guys, an asian woman, and a dark haired white male who winked at Sam as he walked by.

Fuck.

She was trying to not be noticed and of course, one of them noticed her. She should’ve just taken her cider and gone outside onto the beach deck. She couldn’t now though. She had a great spot on the bar. And she did like people watching.

The taller black man and the tall blond had come over to the other side of the bar, asking for a round of drinks for them and their friends. Eleven beers in all. They had to come back and when they did, the black man smiled at Sam. She tipped her head down.

Well fuckity fuck.

She noticed Nat glance over and she decided to shoot her a text.

Sam: don’t mind me i’ll just hang out by myself

She saw Nat glanced down atr her phone and then up at Sam and mouthed a ‘sorry’ and then texted her back.

Nat: i’ll come back over in a few, catching up with Chicken Little

Sam: thought I recognized him, i forgive you as always 🥰

Sam nursed her cider and flipped through her Instagram, looking at her friend’s stories who were back in Boston.

“You here all by your lonesome, darlin’?” A voice asked from beside her. She turned to see the tall blond leaning on his elbow over the bar. His friend, the handsome black man, was standing to his left, staring at Sam with a smile. She sighed and pursed her lips.

“Waiting for someone.” She said, trying not to look at his stupid, very handsome face. He had an air of arrogance about him that unfortunately, Sam was instantly attracted to, but she couldn’t let him know that. And the accent? Fuck.

“Well, someone isn’t here yet, so...” He said as he scooted in a bit closer. His friend whacked him on the shoulder and the blond glanced at him with a smirk.

“New in town?” His friend asked and Sam’s eyes flicked to him. She took a sip of her cider and looked him up and down, just as another one of the tan uniforms walked up. This was the one that winked at Sam. Now she had the attention of three very good looking, very testosterone driven males, who were looking at her like she was a very unattainable snack. And they didn’t seem to know who she was. She saw Nat’s eyes gleen over and a horrified look spread across her face. Sam smirked at her.

“You’re TopGun pilots, huh?” Sam asked with a grin, as she left the beer close to her lips. The blond’s eyebrows shot up and a wild smirk spread across his very pretty, very kissable lips. God, did she want to kiss him. FUCK.

“Jake. Jake Seresin.” He said, holding his hand out for her to shake. She did, immediately noticing how warm his hand was. He flicked his head toward his friends. “This is Reuben Fitch, and Neil Vikander,” pointing first to the handsome black man and then the brown haired, freshly shaven white guy. Reuben held his hand out for her to shake and she did so. Neil did not, instead he just smiled at her.

She took another sip of her beer and glanced at each of them, up and down, before asking, “What are your callsigns, boys?”

Reuben said his was ‘Payback’, Neil’s was ‘Omaha’, and then Jake...Jake took a second, tipping his nose down and flashing his pretty smile before speaking.

“Know a little bit about pilot shit, huh?” Jake asked and she rolled her eyes at him. He smirked.

“I know a lot about a lot of shit. What’s your fucking callsign, Jake ?” Sam said, the swears rolling off her tongue calmly. Reuben and Neil broke out into a fit of laughter and they both patted Jake on his back as they left. Neil leaned in and said, ‘good luck’ to him. Jake’s eyes followed his friends for a moment before the sage green locked back on her mahogany brown ones.

“ Hangman .” He said as he sat on the stool next to Sam.

“See that wasn’t so hard was it?” She said, finishing her beer.

“Penny, m’dear, she’ll have another, on me.” Jake said and Penny shook her head and smiled as she took Sam’s empty and replaced it with a full, ice cold bottle.

“Oh, all I have to do is insult you and I get free beer? Excellent.” Sam said, starting on her second. Jake tilted his head and scooted closer, manspreading next to her. She placed her hand on his chest and looked him dead in the eyes. “Easy there, Peacock . I get it. You’ve got the prettiest feathers . Don’t need to see them any closer.”

“Goddamn you are somethin’ fuckin’ else.” Jake said, shaking his head, an opened mouthed grin plastered to his face. “ Let me buy you dinner .”

“Don't need you to buy me anything else, handsome.” Sam said and Jake just kept on smiling. He looked like a love struck puppy, all wide and sparkly eyed. The only thing that was missing was the wagging tail and the tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Hard to get is your game then? I can hang .” He said and Sam laughed down the barrel of the bottle.

“That why they call you ‘Hangman’?” She asked and he didn't have a come back this time. He just sat there, smiling like a fucking idiot at her, clearly hoping his handsome fucking face would get her to do whatever he wanted. Oh, boy, when he found out who her dad was, he’d change his attitude for sure. She saw Nat heading back over.

“I see you’ve met Bagman.” She said as she placed her arm around Sam’s shoulders.

“Oh no, are you Phoenix’s girlfriend. Shit. Now I really wanna take you to dinner...I didn’t even catch your name, sweetheart.” Jake said, eyes darting between Sam and Phoenix. She scoffed at him and side hugged Sam.

“I'm not going to dinner with you.” Sam said, taking her phone out and opening Instagram back up. She scrolled for a moment as Jake watched her. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for her to give in.

“You really don’t know who she is, Hangman?” Nat asked, with a knowing smile. Sam glanced at her, Here it comes. The implosion of his self confidence. “Sam Kazansky...” Nat said and Jake’s eyes locked on Sam’s, then widened. He touched his beer to hers and then smiled and tipped his head.

“My Insta is jseresin90 when you decide to follow me.” He said, as he stood. He began to walk away and Sam's eyes followed him. He turned and smiled at her, saluted her and said, “Can't wait to see all your pretty pictures, Sam!”

She followed him with her eyes as he made his way back over to his friends. Sam turned in her seat as Nat sat at the bar next to her. She motioned to Jake.

“ So tell me more about Jake Seresin. ” She said and Nat smirked and asked Penny for another beer.

🛩️🛩️🛩️

As Jake continued drinking and playing pool, his friends and co-pilots teased him.

“What the fuck, Jake? Tell me you got her number.” Neil said, and took a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,, seriously, she’s hot as hell, man.” Reuben said, shaking his head.

“Well?” Bob piped up, with a smirk. Jake stopped as he was about to make his next shot, glancing around as everyone got quiet. And then he lied.

“Course I got her number.” He said, a bit sheepishly, and Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, the dirty blond with the mustache, raised a brow. He’d give him shit later but not here. They all laughed, a few of them sighed and rolled their eyes, and then they went back to drinking and conversing with each other for a couple more hours. When everyone was sufficiently drunk or buzzed, they all decided to head home.

Jake stepped out onto the patio and gazed out over the ocean. Behind him was his friend Coyote, aka Javy. He clapped him on the shoulder and shook him a bit, making Jake smile.

“You okay, man?” Javy asked, and Jake nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Jake said tentatively and Javy patted him on the back.

“When you wanna talk about it, I’m here.” Javy said and went back in, just as Rooster came out. Jake had turned to go back toward the parking lot and he drew in a sharp breath as he caught Rooster’s disapproving stare.

“You didn’t get her number.” He said and Jake shook his head.

“Why do you have to be an ass about it...” Jake said and Bradley stepped into his space.

“ Don’t ruin her. You’re gonna be in a world of shit if you do. You have no fucking idea who she is. ” Bradley said and Jake bumped his shoulder into his, as he brushed past him.

“There’s a whole side of me that y��all won’t ever see because you think I’m a dick. Fuck off and let me be.” Jake said as he went down the patio stairs and toward the parking lot.

“Maybe stop acting like a dick then, Bagman!” Bradley yelled as Jake got in his truck and slammed the door. He punched the center console and swore. He took his phone out and checked to see if he had any notifications. Nothing.

Fuck.

#jake seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin #glen powell

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sapphosdesires · 7 months ago

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Lady Caroline became a frequent visitor to the stables, especially after the grooms and jockeys had departed for the day and the head trainer Amanda was still there.

#sapphic #seductive #fur coat #women kissing #blonde #digital #high heels

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scribbleseas · 26 days ago

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in love & in war, drabble 4: the one where you sideline him

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: none!

Author’s Note: sorry for the wait lol! i hope you like this one, it’s pretty long for a drabble, but it introduces some really fun circumstances for the future of this series :). Please let me know if you would like to join the taglist! It’s open to all, and from now on, I will be putting it on all of my fic updates, so if you’d like to stay in the loop, it’ll help you out!

Happy Reading! (And Happy Holidays & New Year!)

- Dan

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

MASTERLIST

The Aintree Racecourse, Liverpool, 1895

Y/N Y/L/N

“Mama, please,” you begged, attempting to masquerade your growing apprehension with your publicity expression. You feared the closer you walked to the racecourse, the less you could hide your worry. “If there is something underway, I must know.”

After all, the 57th Annual Grand National Horse Racing Event was not one to trifle with. The tradition began in 1839, generations of your family present each year. You’ve attended alongside your mother and father since you were able to walk, but this year was the first time you arrived so late. The race was to start in a handful of minutes, and your family was just in the midst of finding your reserved seats.

As always, the Aintree Racecourse bustled with excitement, commoners populated the outside stands, journalists in their from their designated media platforms. Betting tents boasted long lines of hopefuls, upper and middle class individuals, judging by their apparel. Event staff guided you and your family to the noble viewing area, a terrace above the working class stands to shield aristocracy from the blazing sun, the scent of horse muck, and curious columnists.

“Darling, honestly. You must trust me and stop looking so vexed,” the Countess replied jubilantly, her arm intertwined with your father’s. She waved away your concern, too flippant for your comfort. You lingered behind them, Daphne’s arm in yours. You knew what your mother was like—she was a romantic. With something in store. Your father, the realist’s, grumpy mood only confirmed your theory. His deep, disgruntled sigh was far from lost on you.

“Do believe her, my Lady. Everything is perfectly well,” Daphne chimed in, though you distrusted her appeasing grin. Her expression seemed thin and strained, her blue eyes scanning around you and refusing to meet yours.

Still, as typical as the event seemed to be, you knew there was something disquieting in store. Your mother and Daphne had been behaving unusually all morning—from the moment the maid prepared you for the event, the entirety of breakfast, and the long carriage ride to the race course. Giggling, sharing long looks, whispering.

They hadn’t even let you view the contenders, the jockeys and their respective horses in advance of the race. Typically, you and your parents liked to make predictions based on the statistics provided by the racecourse’s invitations. You liked to make predictions based on the little science you knew about horse racing—the track conditions, the horse’s fitness and temperament, the weather.

Her refusal to show you the data meant there was some sort of surprise awaiting you—knowing that caused anxiety to gnaw at your stomach. It strained your cordial smile. This surprise could only be something related to the race, the identity of the jockeys or perhaps the horses?

How you detested surprises. At their essence, they were situations you were made to be unprepared for, and unpreparedness meant you could very well mortify yourself, the Y/l/n name, and the Richmond Earldom. And TransAtlantica. All in one fell swoop.

Your mother couldn’t seem to keep her gaze away from the racetrack for more than a few minutes, excitement in her eyes. She was waiting for someone, and judging by her disinterest in the rest of the nobility on the terrace, she was not awaiting Ciel Phantomhive. A worker at the event showed you to your reserved table and row of seats, lifting the place card that read Richmond and promptly departing. This part of the terrace boasted a flawless view of the racecourse and the labor class spectators.

“Daphne my dear, please find all of us some refreshments. This heat is simply intolerable,” she fanned herself, sharing another suspicious smile with the maid.

“Of course, my Lady,” Daphne curtsied to the both of you before starting off.

Your father, on the other hand, wasted no time in finding the other Earl amid the festivities. From across the way, you watched him shake hands with Lord Phantomhive and immediately steer him your way, their conversation inaudible as they approached you. Lord Phantomhive was dressed elegantly in a light beige suit. His olive green tie tucked into a white undershirt.

“Hello, Lady Y/l/n, Lady Y/n,” Lord Phantomhive greeted you and your mother, directing his bow to both of you. Before you could apologize for your family’s tardiness, he spoke again. “I am honored to spectate this fine engagement with your family. Thank you again for inviting me, Lady Y/n,” he landed a polite kiss on your knuckles, immediately releasing your hand.

At the very least, you could say you were interested in Lord Phantomhive. He entertained such stimulating conversation, curious to know more about your studies, your intellectual pursuits. No other nobleman your age would ever allow you to ramble on about the ingenious engineering that went into a ferris wheel or even match wits regarding classical literature by the likes of Sun Tzu and Machiavelli. Most of your suitors had only been interested in themselves. They’d ramble endlessly regarding their achievements, their family lines, their hobbies.

While that was all important, you craved a connection. A connection with respect, appreciation, care.

“Of course. I enjoyed our promenade at the piers.” In spite of your nerves, your own answering smile graced your lips. You found yourself telling the truth, as well. Lord Phantomhive showed a considerate side of himself during your promenade last week—he was understanding when you made a clumsy fool of yourself. Sure, he could be rather snide at times, but he’d shown glimmers of a gentleman, and you expected to see more. At least he provided you the decency of never bringing up that embarrassment again.

“As did I. I am pleased to hear you feel the same,” he replied, giving your hand a soft, affectionate squeeze before he released it. “Though I must admit that I am not as well versed in the world of horse racing as you are. I’ve heard that your family makes it a point to spectate each year’s Grand National. You must be quite the accomplished wagerer.”

You flushed, fully aware that polite society restricted a noblewoman's betting engagements to lower stakes card games. Noblemen primarily bet at horse races and rounds of pall mall. Instead, you learned the intricacies of a smart gamble and decent odds throughout your formative years. Your father allowed you to donate the winnings to a cause of your choice— last year’s winnings became seed money for developing medical equipment. You personally corresponded with Wilhelm Roentgen, the developer of a new form of electromagnetic radiation for body imaging.

”I am. Though regretfully, my mother seems quite intent on limiting those powers of mine this year,” you said, casting a long and derisive stare at the offending woman.

“Quite regretfully,” your father agreed. Your record more than spoke for itself.

Immediately launching to the defensive, the Countess’ eyes widened with false innocence. “Is it a crime to wish for my daughter’s focus to be on her engagements today as opposed to the race? Must you cast your unladylike predictions each and every year?” She asked, accepting a slim flute of imported wine from Daphne. Your father took a disapproving drink out of his, guiding your mother to sit with him.

“The race is starting in moments and I haven’t the slightest idea of any of the jockeys participating, the horses, the track conditions…” you complained, settling in your reserved seats with your parents to your right and Lord Phantomhive to your left.

“I appreciate your assistance, Lady Y/l/n,” Lord Phantomhive said diplomatically. He addressed you again, “How could I compete for your attention with such a riveting race?”

You watched the jockeys below, some adjusting their horse’s equipment, some already mounted and ambling about behind the starting line. Each competitor’s silks and riding breeches matched the color of their horse's tack, their names and numbers clearly labeled them for spectators as well.

“I only wanted to keep a certain special guest a surprise,” your mother explained, recapturing your attention. “The organizers here at Aintree asked him to make an appearance, now that he’s freshly arrived from the port of South Africa. His service in the Royal Army is finally complete. Look—the jockey in crimson is....”

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

Adam Kingston.

The next bloody Earl of Kingston. An Earl who hailed from a peerage spanning back to 1463 when King Edward VI ennobled a knight as a reward for valiance during the Battle of Mortimer’s Cross. Apparently, every man in the Kingston family served in the British military to honor their knightley roots.

Clearly, Ciel was not, in fact, competing with the race itself for Lady Y/n’s attention. He was competing with Lord Adam Kingston, the myth of a man whom Ciel was convinced, until this convenient moment, had no ties to the Richmond Earldom. And now, by the shock painted on Lady Y/n’s face and the excitement in her mother’s expression, there was indeed a concerning degree of relevance.

And all Ciel could do was exhale, his jaw clenching at the sight of Adam as he practiced on his canting horse. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wracking his mind for a transition. A means to change the subject from Adam to, well, virtually anything else.

How could he miss this? The Grand National never typically allowed for guest jockeys, and he should have factored in any potential obstacle. Potential, at that.

Adam far from an obstacle—biceps for brains at best, hailing from a line of unintellectual brutes. How could that compare to the Phantomhive’s servitude as the Queen’s Guard Dog? Her Majesty’s personal private investigators? It couldn’t.

The Y/l/n family, the custodians of the Richmond line, required a businessman. There was no assessing a bloody profit margin through brute force. It took class, prowess, skill that went beyond following a general’s orders and shooting straight.

“He recently received a Victoria Cross for his service to Her Majesty. Just as his father and grandfather did before him— she must adore that family,” Lady Y/l/n explained proudly, as if Adam were her own son. As if she wished for Adam to become her son-in-law, though of course, the Countess was socially aware enough not to explicitly say so. Not with Ciel present, at least.

Surely if Ciel could understand the intent behind her words, as did Y/n, who flushed. Her perceptive gaze trained on Adam. She twisted a ring on her finger, a circular yellow diamond surrounded by smaller white diamonds. They were cut into circles as well, resembling petals of a flower, a nod to the weather.

“That is lovely to hear,” the noblewoman answered absently, her smile small and appeasing. Not at all genuine, now that their exchange about Machiavelli revealed Y/n Y/l/n’s real smile to Ciel. Or at least, something closer to it. She cleared her throat, eyes flitting between her mother, the racecourse, and Ciel with uncertainty. “Though I doubt he will win today. Look at his horse—it’s quite large. He might overheat in this weather and slow down during the final few laps.”

The Countess merely sighed, returning her daughter’s smile. “You can take the wagering away from the lady, but never the lady from her wagering.”

Y/N Y/L/N

“Mama,” you complained again, releasing your ring to fan yourself. Lord Phantomhive had only been sitting with you for a few moments and your mother already managed to mortify you twice. First by shocking you with Lord Kingston, and now, insinuating that your intellect was unladylike. It was a miracle Lord Phantomhive didn’t stand up and walk away after all of these misgivings. You’d even fallen in front of him during your blood promenade last week! He even had to take the time to tend to your bloody leg of all things.

“All right, all right,” she surrendered, thankfully turning her attention to your father.

“I apologize for her,” you said, flattening the skirts of your light yellow gown.

“I only hope to learn from you if you’re such a master of wagering,” Lord Phantomhive replied lightly, both validating a skill you felt self conscious of and your overeager mother’s whims. “I’ve merely participated in the odd game of billiards and chess—never horse racing. If not the Earl of Kingston, who do you favor to win?”

“It’s hard to say without the full information,” you admitted, finally managing to tear your gaze away from Adam Kingston. You knew him—surely most of the aristocracy did—given his family line’s proximity to the Crown and overall significance to the noble class. As children, you spent time together, you were innocent playmates who were too little to understand the necessity of polite functions. You’d share toys and books wordlessly on the floor until you were old enough to accompany your parents during rounds of polite chatter. You had fleeting feelings as a young girl, but of course, what girl your age didn’t have a juvenile crush on Adam at some point?

There had been murmurings of an engagement between the two of you, but nothing had ever come of it. You heard of his achievements abroad—in fact, you dimly remembered hearing that he was an accomplished equestrian, now that he was in the front of your mind.

Lord Kingston studied in universities abroad before his five-year enlistment in the British Army. The last time you saw him physically, he stood at half his height. His face was clean of facial hair—stubble shadowed his jawline, from what you could see. His eyes were still the same light green, his red skull cap concealed most of his unruly blond hair. When you were children, other noble daughters around you squealed for him. There were plenty of tears when he departed for Germany—most from disappointed mothers and daughters hoping to secure an arranged marriage.

Your mother had certainly been among the disappointed, but at the time of his departure, all you could recall was the lessons in shares and stock holding your father was guiding you through.

“If I had to pick a favorite, I might choose—” you started to say, only for a familiar fanfare to interrupt you. Your guess would have been on Sharpshooter and his jockey in blue, Oliver Dean, but you supposed it didn’t matter. Your father clearly handled the betting for this race, given that your mother forcibly put you out of commission.

You pursed your lips, frustrated at your inability to finish your thought. This was why you liked to attend the Grand National early, but now you understood why your mother saw to your tardiness.

”Ladies and gentlemen, we at the Aintree Racecourse wish to thank you for attending our 67th Annual Grand National Horse Racing Event,” the announcer started, thanking the event’s donors and vendors. He introduced each jockey and their horse, mentioning their sponsors (if applicable) and their odds to win as they trotted to the starting line.

Before the announcer could introduce Lord Kingston, he had to wait for the public’s energy to calm. Everyone, from the clapping nobles on the terrace to the rowdy commoners cheering in the stands, showed warm sentiments for the former soldier. It seemed that each attendee, save for you, was aware of the last minute addition to the race.

“Now, if he hadn’t been standing right before me, I wouldn’t believe it myself, but today we have Lord Adam Kingston joining our skilled jockeys this auspicious afternoon! He rides for the Crimea and Indian Mutiny Veterans’ Association, a charitable group that aids our brave veterans in need! Do give the man and his 2:1 odds a gigantic round of applause, Aintree!” The announcer requested of the audience, gesturing for the impassioned spectators to afford the Earl a standing ovation. While most in the stands below you complied, most nobility around you simply clapped demurely.

It would be unwise to ignore 2:1 odds. Statistically, it meant that Lord Kingston had a 33.3% chance of winning among his competitors. He was one of the favorites to win— of course. Years of cultivating his skills as an equestrian, plus years in the military…you suspected his horse was the only factor leaving a shadow of a doubt. That being said, a jockey as skilled as him likely already considered his horse’s stamina.

Lord Phantomhive mumbled something under his breath, but you couldn’t quite catch it under the racecourse’s excitement and the volume of your own thoughts. He shifted in his seat, sparing a few gruff claps for Lord Kingston. His stormy, pensive, expression melted into passivity the moment he noticed your curious eyes on him.

“I still have another favorite to win,” you insisted, “Oliver Dean and Sharpshooter are 4:1—that is about a 20% likelihood. With only a 13% difference, I believe it is worth considering.” Sharpshooter was much thinner than Lord Kingston’s horse, a lighter color. To you, he seemed less likely to tire after the last few hurdles, though his younger age could cause difficulties with consistency.

“You reckon?” Lord Phantomhive raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as the final horse stopped behind the starting line. The race contenders shot off the starting line to a grandiose fanfare and the screams from the stands. The sound of thundering hooves echoed alongside the bustling crowd, each horse moving in frenzied synchrony. They moved so fast that the jockeys couldn’t afford to sit properly on their mounts, instead standing in their stirrups and crouching. Their ride was more aerodynamic that way, you once read.

“Dean would be the more profitable bet. The higher return compensates for the lower probability, correct?” Lord Phantomhive prompted.

“What was that?” Oh—yes. That is correct,” you confirmed haphazardly. Would Lord Kingston prove you wrong? Who did your father choose for the Richmond family’s favorite to win? Was it your responsibility to greet Kingston? Win or lose?

As the odds estimated, Oliver Dean and Lord Kingston were neck in neck. Their horses galloped and jumped together, their riders remaining focused on the course ahead. The first to complete three laps around the racecourse would win—and whether the victor was Adam, an Earl already well-rested on his laurels, and Oliver Dean, a professional equestrian.

You took a drink out of your chilled wine, realizing that you had been digging your teeth into the inside of your lower lip. Finishing it off, you handed the empty class away. You sat forward in your seat, unable to look away or even breathe properly.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

This outing was getting away from him. He could see it in Y/n’s body language, leaning away from him and towards the balcony in front, her fidgeting hands finally still on her lap. The race—or its unlikely addition—completely captured her attention.

Acquiring TransAtlantica is not an option; it is an inevitability, Ciel reminded himself, his eyebrow furrowing harder by the passing second. His mouth felt dry, parched and begging for a sip of the wine Y/n nursed. He should have accepted one from their maid, but he’d politely declined out of interest in staying as sharp as possible in case the event turned dire.

Now, Ciel wished he’d accepted the drink. If not for the cold on his tongue, for the sweet sympathy of the alcohol. He needed it to smooth out the gathering headache in his temples, caused by a combination of Adam Kingston, the scent of horse muck, the loud and obnoxious presence of the working class, and now, maintaining Y/n’s attention without appearing demanding.

Say something to her, Ciel. Anything. It would be inappropriate to compliment her now, inappropriate to ask about her other interests…unhelpful to ask her about Adam….

Hidden in his crossed arms, the Earl’s hands clenched into fists. He imagined one making painful contact with the side of Adam’s head, knocking him clean out for so much as daring to impede his mission. Ciel had an objective to see through: a wedding band on the heiress’ finger, and a company to head and combine with his existing one. A new Earldom to chief. And this man had the audacity to insert himself into Ciel’s intricate plans like a gust of wind to a house of cards.

The jockeys completed their first round and Adam’s lead was beginning to increase, slowly but certainly.

“For such a large horse, Cozbi seems to be holding his own,” Ciel commented, stealing a look at Y/n. She shook her head, watching Oliver’s slender horse lose ground to Adam and Cozbi. The action caused her long earrings—the yellow diamonds matched the one on her finger—to move. Strands of her hair fell out of its braided bun, causing the diamond flower hair clips in it to come slightly loose.

Out of all of her clothing ensembles, this floral number was the most color and sparkle he’d seen Lady Y/n dawn.

“He is an Andalusian, I think,” Y/n replied, gasping as Sharpshooter and Oliver rushed closer to Adam and Cozbi. “They are known for their stamina. Former battle horses, but…” she mumbled, not finishing the thought. Ciel couldn’t conceal his dry laugh; of course Lady Y/n knew of the benefits and drawbacks of specific racehorse breeds.

The jockeys made it halfway through the second lap side by side, leaving the rest of the competition paces behind them. It was clear that the winner would be determined from the two leaders, and Ciel couldn’t imagine how he could manage Adam winning. Y/n’s mother seemed eager to introduce the two—eager to sabotage his chances to woo her daughter, even if unknowingly. He had to surmise how well Y/n knew Adam, but mentioning the other Earl when he’d just managed to change the subject would only hurt his cause.

“Ah! See? Just as I thought!” Lady Y/n exclaimed, jumping to her feet as Sharpshooter inched before Cozbi. She was referring to her earlier summation: the smaller, younger horse would persist longer than a larger, older horse. “Sharpshooter is a Mustang, they are quite fast and enduring. Perhaps, perhaps… oh no, no, no! Come Sharpshooter, hurry!” Y/n’s palms jumped to the flushed apples of her cheeks, dragging down. Her hands fell back to her sides, each gesture causing her fan to jump. Noble ladies such as she held lithe fans to both keep cool and in more secretive moments, convey messages. During outings such as this, they kept their dans gently tied to their wrists with ribbon.

As quickly as Oliver and Sharpshooter gained their lead, they lost it within the thick back to back hurdles dominating part of the track. While Sharpshooter was smaller and lighter, he was significantly less experienced and sturdy than Cozbi. Where Cozbi lacked in agility, his expertise and relationship with Adam clearly made up for it. The leading horses came thundering over the starting line for a second time, marking the end of the second lap.

One final lap to go.

How could Ciel’s luck be this absurd? Honestly!

“After two attempts at the hurdles, Sharpshooter may have the right of it then,” Ciel suggested, watching as the noblewoman’s competitive spirit seemed to take the better of her. She hardly spared him a look, leaving his comment unaddressed.

“Absolutely not! No! This is unacceptable!” She cried out, jumping up from her chair with enough force to push it back. It was as if the horse’s misgivings were a personal affront to her, her gloved hands tightly holding onto the railing in front of the Richmonds’ reserved row of seats. In standing, Y/n joined most of the spectators in the audience—including that of the aristocracy. Reluctantly, Ciel rose as well, deciding that watching the race progress and Y/n take more interest in it than him were equally frustrating sights to take in.

The situation was truly unacceptable, Ciel agreed. Only, that was for reasons beyond the bloody race.

Still, the Earl had to appreciate the genuine tenacity on the young woman’s face, the emotional investment she put into a silly race. He was rather accustomed to the vacant smile she would aim at the world, himself included. She seemed hard pressed for spontaneity, but liveliness and intrigue seemed to come so naturally to her—a student of diverse hobbies. Ciel never would have guessed that such a privileged young woman would take the time to educate herself so thoroughly. Especially within matters as niche as horse racing…though he supposed she had to. To the Richmond line, this was no silly race—it determined their winnings and therefore, the funding they could provide for a starting cause.

Ciel felt his charity to London was policing the Underworld, serving Her Majesty. And yet, Lord Richmond and TransAtlantica seemed entirely committed to spreading wealth. It was perplexing.

He sighed as Biceps for Brains took the lead, cursing his ineffectual butler for screwing with him.

Y/N Y/L/N

Sweat rolled down your neck as you watched on. At some point, you grabbed your mother’s hand, squeezing it as you bounced on the soles of your heels. You were dimly aware of Lord Phantomhive next to you, clapping but significantly quieter than your rowdy jumping.

Cozbi and Lord Kingston claimed a commanding lead entering the final stretch, the elder horse’s experience and sheer strength enough to defeat Sharpshooter’s size and speed. No wonder Andalusians were used in battle—it seemed Cozbi was unyielding.

As the Earl of Kingston and his horse passed the starting line for the final time, another fanfare erupted from the pit alongside a nearly defeating round of applause. Immediately after, Oliver and Sharpshooter followed, succeeded by the rest of the jockeys. The dust kicked up the horse’s galloping hooves floated around the track and the stands—the terrace was high enough for the air to remain clear around you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have the winner of the 67th Grand National: Lord Adam Kingston and his valiant steed, Cozbi!” The announcer yelled, fixing a dramatic flair to his words. “Thank you to all of our participants, and I thank you lot for being such a dynamic crowd here in Aintree!”

From the track, you watched Lord Kingston pull off his cap, trotting on Cozbi so as to let the horse slowly wind down from the race. He waved to the crowd in the stands, cap in his gesturing hand. His forehead shone with sweat, slightly reddened from the sun. The same light reflected in his pale green eyes, particularly as he looked up to the nobles’ terrace. Searching the lines of waving nobility, his face lifted in recognition to some, but his scouring had yet to cease. He pulled Cozbi to a slow stop, only for an attendant to wave him forward to dismount and accept his trophy on the announcer’s platform.

“I knew Adam would pull through it,” your mother gushed, releasing your hand. “Adam has always been a talented rider, ever since he was a boy. He would participate in those junior league races. Those were quite adorable.”

“It was a fine race,” your father commented wryly, pushing up his glasses. He finished off his drink, handing off the empty glass to an attendant. Like you, he must have betted on Oliver and Sharpshooter. After all, he taught you nearly everything you knew about playing the odds at horse races—you had the same rationale. You both hated to lose.

“I agree,” Lord Phantomhive said noncommittally, tone flat. He uncrossed his arms to accept a flute of champagne from a server. “He was a soldier before this. Surely he is accustomed to riding in much more fraught conditions than a simple race.”

“It begs the question of bias,” your father concurred, only for your mother to send him a sharp look.

Lord Kingston stepped off of Cozbi to join the announcer on his elevated stage, a small wooden platform where the host had spectated from. Oliver and the jockey who won third place followed him, accepting their smaller trophies, the latter made of silver, the former made of bronze. Kingston cradled his treasure in his arms, red silk shirt clinging to his figure, the gold detailing along his long sleeves and the middle of his torso caught the light. His tight trousers were cream colored, sculpting his legs all the same.

“Our sincerest congratulations, my Lord,” the announcer said. He also clipped a small gold metal to the jockey’s shirt, putting the accessory over his heart.

“What do you think of the race, my Lady?” Lord Phantomhive asked you, but you merely hummed, stalling your reply out of curiosity for Lord Kingston. Who was he hoping to spot? A sick, hopeful feeling kept your attention lingering on him. It had been years since you properly saw him, after all. You were childhood acquaintances, he knew that your family attended this event annually. The Kingstons had even accompanied you a number of times.

“Thank you so much,” Lord Kingston answered with a laugh. “I owe it all to Cozbi, honestly. He did all the hard work—I only showed up in hopes to get someone’s attention.” His smile was toothy and eager.

Now you were confident Lord Kingston had been searching to lock eyes with you. His aimed enthusiasm caused several others in the stands and in the press to turn towards you, the source. When you returned the Earl’s wave, he sunk into a respectful bow, trophy still in hand. He held it for a long moment, allowing cameras to catch his reverence.

Your breath quickened at the revelation, but the sinking feeling in your stomach told you that there were about to be dozens of eyes on you, encouraging you to collect yourself. You couldn’t show your anxiety, even if it was clear that Ciel Phantomhive had clearly joined you on this outing for courtship purposes. You had to stand tall and keep your chin up—no matter how much you wanted to sink away.

“Surprise, darling,” your mother giggled unhelpfully, touching your arm.

You painted on your future-Countess-of-Richmond grin, waving back with significantly more enthusiasm than you felt. A startled blush heated your face up.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

Shortly Afterwards

Ciel lacked the proper words to convey his rage, struggling to breathe through his tight chest. His jaw strained from how tightly he clenched it. After managing a terse, at best, goodbye to Lady Y/n and her parents, he promptly left the racecourse. His initial plan was to attempt to secure an invitation back to the Y/l/n estate for a supervised tea, but clearly, that was out of the question now. Instead, he trudged away from the racecourse, and summoned his demon butler. The second his carriage stopped in view, Sebastian stepped out to open the door for Ciel.

“Finny, spare no time. I want to be back to the estate as soon as possible,” Ciel snapped at the gardener—his responsibilities newly expanded to unofficial coachman when Sebastian had other matters to tend to.

“Yes, sir!” Finny replied, saluting Ciel and immediately tightening his grip on the reins.

“What seems to be the issue, my Lord?” Sebastian asked obsequiously, opening the carriage door for Ciel. The demon’s untroubled face only compounded Ciel’s rage, causing him to slap the useless supernatural being across the face. Although he utilized all of his strength, the demon merely looked at him, unaffected. He. Knew. The. Issue. Perfectly. Well.

“Adam Kingston won the race, and you did absolutely nothing to stop it. He confessed that he was here to impress Y/n, and you did nothing to stop it.” Ciel seethed, stepping inside the carriage. “That is the problem here.”

“I received no specific order denoting such an intervention, I apologize, sir,” Sebastian answered, closing and locking the door. He sat on the opposite side of the carriage. “You know I merely follow your instructions—a mere pawn in your games.”

“I want him dead,” Ciel exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. He rubbed his temples, relieved to be rid of the polite mask he wore for the Y/l/n family.

He had to collect his thoughts and restrategize, consider each new factor this event had brought to his attention. Clearly, the Kingston line knew the Richmonds line well enough for Lady Y/l/n to recall Adam in his youth—so much so that she made it a point to attend his bloody junior league races. Now, Ciel had to convince the family that he was the better option over an old family friend. That would take more than logic and objectivity: his greatest strengths. It would require emotion, passion. A near-flawless expression of love. A feeling so foreign to Ciel that it may as well not exist.

“I must question if that is the most sensible solution to the issue he is presenting,” the demon actually had the audacity to chuckle, as if the thought of killing a man for making his courtship public was amusing. Or better yet, that his master’s bloodlust was sensitive enough to apply for such a shallow reason.

“And why should I continue to take advice from you? You couldn’t even warn me about the man appearing today in a timely manner.”

“Are you insinuating you have met your match, sir?”

“Of course not,” Ciel rolled his eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for, Sebastian? I want to know everything there is to know about Adam Kingston, and his ties to Y/n Y/l/n. And find out what the bloody journalists are writing about. I cannot have this handled the wrong way.”

“Absolutely, my Lord. I will have it ready before you return to the estate for supper.”

With that, the demon was gone.

TAGLIST: @theblueslytherin @luckyladylottie @yuzu-ku @zyrixal

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respectawoman · 2 years ago

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Page 2

JOCKEY THIS ISN'T A GAME YOU WANT TO WIN AT how is Mousey not already dead

[LiveJournal Post]

<< Previous || Next >>

#Ladyverse #Curedtown #Lady Charger #Lady Jockey #Angie (Mousey)#quo's art #quo's colors #This one took the longest #32 characters #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #I learnt my lesson though the next pages are not as long lol

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jerzwriter · 4 months ago

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I was inspired by this OTP Question from @kyra75 : How would they react to someone flirting with them? Flirting with their significant other. Kyra asked for all four of my pairings, and I decided I'd write a little fic for each one. Thanks so much for the inspiration, Kyra! (Ethan x Kaycee's version can be found here.)

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,538 Summary: Tobias and Casey take a much-needed vacation, but when some admirers begin crossing lines, will it still be the respite they need?

A/N: Participating in @choicesprompts Flufftober #26, Do you trust me?

It was just what the doctor ordered—doctors, to be exact. While Tobias and Casey did their best to find joy in each day, their lives as doctors at Edenbrook Hospital were quite stressful. They knew they had to play as hard as they worked to maintain balance, and that’s why they desperately needed this vacation.

On the second day of their trip, they were quite proud of themselves, for they managed a few impressive feats even before the clock struck noon: prying their bodies off of each other, managing to will themselves out of bed, and, most recently, getting up from their poolside lounge chairs. It was only to refresh their drinks at the tiki bar, but on a tropical holiday, they viewed these as grand accomplishments.

Casey hopped up on a bar stool with a broad smile. Closing her eyes, she took in the salty air and warm breeze. This was near perfection! Her handsome boyfriend slipped onto the stool beside her, wrapping his arm protectively behind her back and motioning to the bartender, who quickly approached him.

She was noticeably attractive. Tall and curvaceous, her sunkissed curls cascaded over her perfectly tanned shoulders, falling over the top of her hibiscus print bikini top. The mischievous glint in her eyes matched her flirtatious smile. She was confident, almost too confident, as she sauntered Tobias’s way.

“What’ll it be, handsome,” she winked as Casey rolled her eyes. She was used to people flirting with Tobias, but she also knew what it was like to work for tips, so she went along with it.

“Rum runner for the lady and a Mai Tai for me,” he replied.

She returned with the drinks in an instant, an alluring smile on her lips. “First one’s on me, sweetheart,” she said, meeting his eyes for a moment too long. “I’m Amber. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Tobias smiled politely, lifting his glass. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

Casey stirred her drink, eyeing Tobias as he brought his glass to his lips. “What?” he asked playfully.

“Oh, nothing,” she chuckled.

Tobias was inherently charming, a natural flirt whose harmless banter was part of his reportiore. Casey knew these things about him, and they were part of what made her love him. But as Amber strutted back... again and again... her comments more pointed and her laughter more ridiculously exaggerated each time, it became clear that she wasn’t just jockeying for tips.

When Amber leaned over the bar, her gaze locked on Tobias’s, Casey was close to having enough. “So, do you come here often?” Amber asked with another wink.

Tobias sensed the shift, but he was still amused. He chuckled lightly and replied, “Not exactly. My girlfriend and I don’t live around the corner." He nodded toward Casey, making it clear they were together.

Amber’s eyes flicked toward the blonde beauty, but instead of backing off, she doubled down. “Hmm. Well, if you ever come back... alone... be sure to let me know. I do live around the corner, and I'd love to show you around.”

Tobias shrugged it off, but Casey felt her jaw tighten as Amber sashayed away. She wasn’t the jealous type, but come on. That wasn’t bold; it was flat-out disrespectful.

Casey shot Tobias a sideways glance. “All right, I know flirting is in your DNA,” she said dryly. “But come on!”

"What?" He said. "I didn't flirt with her. She was flirting with me! And I made it perfectly clear we're together."

"I know..." Casey said, her cheeks turning red. "But... still..."

Tobias’s eyes crinkled as he looked at his love with a teasing smile. "Still what? Uh oh, is someone jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” Casey insisted. “I’m all for innocent flirtation, but I don’t like being disrespected. I mean, I’m sitting right here.”

“Come on, babe,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You know you have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours.”

“You better believe I know it. If I thought you were playing along with Miss Amber, you’d be wearing this rum runner, and I won’t even tell you where the decorative paper umbrella would end up.”

Tobias howled with laughter as Casey swatted his arm. "Remind me never to piss you off!"

“You think it’s cute when I get mad, don’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” Tobias grinned, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “It’s kind of adorable.”

“Hmm. I’ll show you adorable,” she said with a mock pout.

“Keep that thought,” he said, excusing himself to go to the restroom.

Casey glared across the bar at Amber, not that it mattered, as she never once looked Casey's way. But she wasn’t about to let this ruin her day. She took another sip of her drink and turned around to look at the beautiful view of the beach, and her mood lightened once again. But as she was about to turn around, she felt a presence on the stool beside her... an unfamiliar presence.

A well-tanned California surfer type sitting beside her on the same stool Tobias had just left. He was tall and handsome, with a smile so bright she considered putting on her sunglasses, and his attention was focused solely on her.

“Hey there,” he said with a sly grin, “I couldn’t help but notice you. I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you since you arrived. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be sitting here all alone, so I thought you might like some company."

Casey chuckled to herself. She knew how to flirt and was dating the master himself. Was this really the best this guy had to offer?

“Well, if you’ve been watching me since I arrived, then you know I’m not alone,” she replied, glancing in the direction where Tobias had gone.

But the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Leaning in closer, she swore his smile grew brighter – thought it seemed that would defy science. “Well, I thought he might be boring you. I'm sure I could keep you more entertained."

Casey spat out her drink, laughing as she wiped her mouth. She was about to begin her retort, but Tobias appeared before she could say a word. He cleared his throat loudly, keeping his expression neutral, though there was a fire in his eyes. “Hey, buddy. You’re in my seat.”

The guy looked Tobias over, then back at Casey, clearly not getting the message. “I don’t see your name on it,” he replied, undeterred, as Tobias’s jaw tightened.

“Yeah, well, I don’t see your name on it either, Ken,” Tobias spat. “So lift your ass off of it and go find your own Barbie. Because my girlfriend is taken."

“Girlfriend, huh,” ‘Ken’ leered. “Lucky guy. She could do better."

Tobias glared at him as he walked away, his scowl becoming more pronounced. He turned back to Casey. “Who the hell does that guy think he is?”

"Got me," Casey shrugged, biting back a grin. “But I think you declared that he's... Ken."

"Yeah, well, he's going to be a flattened Ken if he tries that again."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Uh oh, is someone jealous?” she teased, mimicking his earlier words. "Don't you trust me?"

Tobias frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Of course, I trust you! And I’m not jealous. I'm not; it's just that he was very respectful.”

“Mmm-hmm. Right, you’re not jealous,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I totally get it.”

Tobias turned to her with that smirk that made her melt, whether they were in the middle of a Boston winter or the Caribbean heat.

“Shut up,” he laughed, pulling her close for a kiss.

They both smiled against each other’s lips before pulling back from a kiss. Casey looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Face it, babe. It’s not easy having such a hot significant other, is it?”

Tobias beamed at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Nope. It’s not easy at all. But it certainly has its...perks.”

“Mmm,” she said, downing the rest of her drink. “You know, it's getting a little hot out here. Why don’t we go back to our suite and revisit some of those perks.”

Tobias pushed his stool away from the bar with a loud scraping noise. He was on his feet in an instant. “That sounds like a perfect idea to me. Maybe we can hook up Amber and Ken before we go.”

“Pfft,” Casey shrugged, “I’m here to take care of you – you're here to take care of me. Them? They're on their own."

"That's right," he said, bopping her nose with his finger. "Something we'll never be again."

He pulled Casey close and gave her a lingering kiss, eliciting frowns from their admirers. Casey could feel her boyfriend's growing excitement, and she giggled as she pulled away, taking his hand with a grin.

"Come on, babe," she winked. "Let's get back to the suite before we expose everyone to those perks."

At that point, it was clear. Amber and 'Ken' could remain at the bar for hours, but they wouldn't see Tobias or Casey again, for they had better things to do—namely, each other.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #playchoices #choices #choices the stories you play #open heart fanfic #flufftober

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scotianostra · 3 months ago

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On 11th November 1918 an armistice came into force ending fighting in the First World War.

Hey! Jock, are ye glad ye ‘listed?

O Jock, but ye’re far frae hame!

What d’ye think o’ the fields o’ Flanders?

Jockey lad, are ye glad ye came?

Wet rigs we wrought in the land o’ Lennox,

When Hielan’ hills were smeared wi’ snaw;

Deer we chased through the seepin’ heather,

But the glaur o’ Flanders dings them a’!

This is no’ Fair o’ Balloch,

Sunday claes and a penny reel;

It’s no’ for dancin’ at a bridal

Willie Lawrie’s bagpipes squeal.

Men are to kill in the morn’s mornin’;

Here we’re back to your daddy’s trade;

Naething for’t but to cock the bonnet,

Buckle on graith and kiss the maid.

The Cornal’s yonder deid in tartan,

Sinclair’s sheuched in Neuve Eglise;

Slipped awa wi’ the sodger’s fever,

Kinder than ony auld man’s disease.

Scotland! Scotland! little we’re due ye’,

Poor employ and skim-milk board.

But youth’s a cream that maun be paid for,

We got it reamin’, so here’s the sword!

Come awa’, Jock, and cock your bonnet,

Swing your kilt as best ye can;

Auld Dumbarton’s Drums are dirlin’,

Come awa’, Jock, and kill your man!

Far’s the cry to Leven Water

Where your fore-folks went to war,

They would swap wi’ us to-morrow,

Even in the Flanders glaur!

Neil Munro.

I salute all the lives lost during the war but I cant see why the fighting had to continue after the Armistice had been agreed.....

The armistice was agreed at 5.10am on 11th November to come into effect at 11am. The news was conveyed around Europe within the hour. The original armistice was for a period of 36 days, after which it had to be renewed. This was done four times before the Treaty of Versailles was signed. The only problem is that the war did not completely stop at 11am on 11th November.

The Entente had already agreed armistices with Bulgaria on 29th September, the Ottomans on 30th October, and the Austro-Hungarian Government on 3rd November. Germany was the last of the Central Powers to sue for peace. The Armistice with Germany was agreed to come into effect at 11am to allow time for the news to reach combatants. However, fighting continued in several places during and after that time, including on the Western Front.

General John Pershing, Commander of the American Expeditionary Force, did not approve of the armistice. Consequently he gave no instructions to his commanders to suspend any new offensive action during the remaining hours until 11am. This gave individual commanders latitude to determine their actions in the last few hours and in some quarters there was fierce fighting up to 11am which was difficult to stop.

On 11th November alone there were nearly 11,000 casualties, dead, missing and injured, exceeding those on D-Day in 1944. Over 3,500 of these were American. Pershing had to face a Congressional hearing to explain why there were so many deaths when the hour of the armistice was known in advance, it was totally avoidable, over 11,000 families lost their fathers, their uncles, their sons and their nephews, needlessly.

An armistice is a ceasefire, not an official end to war.

Demobilisation of British, colonial and imperial troops did not finish until 1920, considerably longer than servicemen had anticipated. Although fighting continued elsewhere, the armistice between Germany and the Allies was the first step to ending World War I. The global reaction was one of mixed emotions: relief, celebration, disbelief and a profound sense of loss.

During the First World War 140,000 Scots are killed, among these figures, which vary somewhat, from to 500 to 1000, were the Bagpipers, sent “over the top” to lead the Scottish troops into battle.

Nicknamed Die Damen aus der Hölle (Ladies from Hell) by German soldiers for their distinctive tartan kilts and unparalleled bravery, the pipers from the “Black Watch”—the 3rd Battalion, Royal Regiment of Scotland—garnered a fearsome reputation on the battlefields of World War I.

Standing in full view of German soldiers, often at times armed with only their bagpipes, pipers were the first “over the top”, acting as a clarion call for troops to keep moving. The sound of the bagpipes would spread terror among the German troops—when one “Lady from Hell” fell, miraculously another piper would seemingly arise out of the trenches to take his place...............

By the time the second world war came pipers were not ordered to lead the men into battle, well except on the orders of Simon Fraser, 15th Lord Lovat whose personal piper Bill Millin, commonly known as Piper Bill who, when he questioned Lovat after being told to pipe the the men into battle on the beaches of Normandy was told, Ah, but that's the English War Office. You and I are both Scottish, and that doesn't apply"

Flowers have always held symbolism in many cultures around the world. One such flower is the red poppy, almost synonymous with Remembrance Day, observed in Canada. Poppies have become the flower of Remembrance Day for several reasons, with a significant connection to the famous war poem "In Flanders Fields" by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae.

The poem "In Flanders Fields" describes the poppies that grewamid the graves of soldiers who died during World War I in Flanders, a region in Belgium. The poem's vivid imagery and poignant verses made poppies a symbol of remembrance for those who had lost their lives in conflict.

Flanders, where many battles of World War I took place, saw extensive destruction and loss of life. Despite the devastation, the red poppies continued to grow in the churned-up soil, a symbol of resilience and renewal. The contrast between the poppies and the war-torn landscape made them a powerful symbol of remembrance.

In 1921, the Royal British Legion adopted the red poppy as a symbol for their annual Poppy Appeal, which raises funds to support veterans and their families. The tradition of wearing a red poppy to remember the fallen and support those in need became more widespread.

The practice of wearing red poppies on Remembrance Day has been adopted by many countries around the world as a way to honor and remember those who have sacrificed their lives in wars and conflicts.

The last pic here is ex-Private H.E. Day of the 15th Hussars who lost a leg during the war selling wooden crosses)

#scotland #scottish #history #world war one #world war two #poppies #lest we forget

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thebunnyslibrary · 1 year ago

Text

Bucky Barnes Valentine's Drabble ❤️

wc. ~1500

pairing. Bucky x Curvy!Reader

summary. Reader is alone and in the gym on Valentine's Day of all days. Until the man of her dreams Bucky Barnes wanders in and offers to be her sparring partner...

an. I had a last minute idea for a drabble......that then morphed into TWO ideas!! Bucky is first up and I have another idea with Loki that I should hope to finish in the next couple of days. (PS I haven't forgotten my last Ficmas fic. I just kind of hit a wall and i'm still struggling to get over it. Maybe this will help.)

Also big shout out to @chasingmidnights for helping inspire me today ❤️

Going to the gym wasn't exactly your first choice of things to start your Valentine’s Day; but here you were. You preferred to come early early, still dark out early, for two reasons. First for being a bit of an early riser yourself. Usually not as early as you were today, but enough that in the summer, you were able to hear the birds sing at breakfast.

The second that there were less people to stare at you. Confident as you were in your curves, the world had not gotten used to the idea of fat people working out in gyms NOT to lose weight add you’d rather not start today, of all days, that way. Valentine’s Day. You had no real hatred for it. But you did get a little jealous sometimes when you walked in the office and saw so many other desks littered with flowers and candies. But you couldn’t recall a time someone had sent you so much as a single rose.

This year, you’d decided to take the self-care route. You’d ordered takeout last night and tucked it away in the fridge for tonight, along with a slice of your favorite cheesecake from the old-fashioned delicatessen down the street (family owned since the days Tony’s father running Stark Industries). You’d chosen not to weep for your singleness but instead use it as a night of rest and recovery. A good meal, a nice book and your favorite vinyl record along with a long soak in the tub were you self-loves tonight…and your now charging vibrator would take care of the other kind too. You just had to make it through the day.

Even though you were a desk jockey, there was a physical exam all SWORD agents had to pass. You weren't extraordinarily physically gifted, but you could kick but in Just Dance when you wanted to. Unfortunately, the virtual reality sparring simulator at the Avengers compound certainly wasn't as fun as silly dance moves to 70s music in your apartment You knew sparring with the examiner wouldn't be like this, but you had no one else to spar with. And that was where Bucky found you.

"If you'd like I can practice with you, agent." He’d startled you as you quickly removed the virtual reality headset and turned to see him standing there. It was amazing how well he fit into modern clothing. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, showing off this metal arm. You’d never seen his arm this closes and you were in awe of the Wakandan craftsmanship. You'd long admired the former assassin, but never thought in a million years he'd notice you. He was the dark contrast to Captain America, the golden boy. Both were incredibly handsome but there was something mysterious about him that drew you to him. You could easily see why he’d been a lady’s man in the 40s. And you were just a desk clerk. You couldn’t compete with the women, all of whom looked like super models, that threw themselves at him.

You looked around, not seeing any one else and turned back to him, standing there and looking at you, a genuine smile on his face. You nodded and quietly responded.

"Uh...yeah. that would be nice."

Sparring with Bucky gave you a much better experience. Being able to actually fight someone who was there instead of just a simulation felt great. Even though you were sure Bucky was taking it easy on you, you were a lot stronger than you thought, not to mention quick. You were able to duck and dodge and lay a few quick jabs to his chest. And that was nothing compared to how confident you felt, and how good Bucky looked. He seemed to be enjoying himself, a smile never leaving his face. Once or twice you’d stared a little too long and he’d gotten a few jabs in, but you recovered quickly.

At one point he had his arms around you in a hold and you were amazed how warm he felt. His chest brushed against your back and you let out a little gasp that you prayed to God he didn't hear. But you saw the smirk play at his lips.

"Sorry, doll. I run a little warm cause of the serum."

"It's alright.” You said, sheepishly. “Your touch actually feels nice." You bit your cheek as you realized how wrong that probably was to say. To your surprise, Bucky didn’t mention it.

"Well the best way to pass a test is with the proper tools. Not with Tony’s toys." He said, rolling his eyes. “And your touch feels good too.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise before he continued “You’ve got a good strong grip.” He shot you a wink and you couldn’t begin to process what he meant when the sparring resumed. Bucky and you trained for a good hour or so and by the end you felt much better about the exam.

Bucky also took the time to show you a few new self-defense maneuvers. He was demonstrating a quick way to hit someone in the gut before raising your hands up to hit them in the face.

"It's one fluid movement." He guided your arms. By now you were CERTAINLY used to his touch. Especially in moments like now where you when his arms where wrapped around you to guide you. You'd never felt more safe and secure.

"Like this...." You jabbed your elbows backwards before swinging are your arms up, hands closed together and you FELT the contact against Bucky’s nose as you'd executed the move perfectly. But your pride turned to panic as Bucky grunted, then started a fit of coughing as you realized what you’d done.

"Holy shit. Oh my God. I mean... oh shit. Uhm. Captain America is gunna kill me.... Sargent Barnes uhm...sir...?? Are you okay??"

Bucky coughed a few more times, before his breathing finally shallowed. His hand was clutch his nose, now paying attention to that and feeling to make sure it wasn't broken before he finally spoke to you.

“Well doll, I certainly didn't expect you to knock the wind out of me twice in one day. But I'll take it. And you can just call me Bucky.” He said and you felt like you were going to faint. Had he just said what you thought he did?

"Wha...what...? Twice?" you said in disbelief.

“Sure doll.” Bucky admitted. “First was when I walked In here today. Though I have to say you've done it a few times before that" he admitted. “Like the other day when I dropped off that paperwork and you looked so beautiful in your blue dress.” He bit his lip, recalling the memory.

“You're not. You're not serious, right?” He couldn’t be.

“Yeah. Uhm. I am doll. I’ve been wanting to say something for a while but I was worried you were scared of me.” Your heart twinged a little and you gently placed your hand on his mechanical arm.

“Not at all Bucky. In fact, I’ve liked you for some time as I just…didn’t think you’d notice me. You could have any girl you want and I’m just a desk clerk.” You said. “Not a supermodel or a superhero. Or anything special."

“Hey listen to me. You’re absolutely gorgeous doll. Why do you think I’m the one that’s always bringing you everyone else’s paperwork.” You thought for a moment before you realized it was true. You’d never noticed it but while you often saw other Avengers dropping off work to someone else, whenever something had to come to you, Bucky was always the one to bring it. “It’s the highlight of my day when I get to see you. His words, full of honesty and admiration made your heart swell. He placed his flesh hand over yours and squeezed it tight. You gazed into the crystal blue pools of his eyes as he broke the moment.

“Besides everyone knows it’s desk clerks that makes the world go round. Trust me, My ma worked as a secretary for a while. The stories she could’ve told.” You both laughed at that and you loved his laugh. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him really laugh before. It wasn’t as deep or boisterous as Thor’s. Rather it pattered and reminded you of summer’s rain on a wooden roof. And you loved the way his shoulders shook, even if it wasn’t that big of a laugh.

“Listen, doll, I know it's super last minute...and if you didn’t already have plans tonight… I We'll never get a reservation anywhere. But you could come back to my place and I could cook you dinner? Maybe we can watch a movie?” Bucky asked. You smiled and happily replied.

“It's a date.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #drabble #Bucky Barnes Drabble #Valentine's Day #Valentines Day #valentine's day fic

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