#That all's still pretty new to him so give him some time

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story where the reader is an F1 reporter who gets along well with everyone? She’s a close friend, and everyone considers her like a “sister” (or maybe even more for some… I don’t know, let me be delulu here!) and when she gets pregnant, they all become super protective and take extra care of her. For example, if she’s struggling with the heat, they make sure she’s comfortable. Thank you!

golden child of the paddock (all drivers)

✦ pairing - all drivers x female!reader (platonic), carlos sainz x female!driver (non platonic)

✦ genre - protective drivers, romance

The first time Y/N stepped into the F1 paddock as a young, starry-eyed reporter, she felt a blend of excitement and nerves. She was new to the sport, young, and a little out of her depth, but she knew her passion for racing and her natural curiosity would be enough to keep her going. Still, when she looked around at the towering motorhomes, the thrumming of engines, and the throng of seasoned journalists, it was hard not to feel like she was in over her head.

"First day on the job?" a voice came from her side. She turned to see none other than Daniel Ricciardo, grinning with that trademark mischievous smile. He’d noticed her as she was nervously adjusting her press badge.

"Uh, yeah," she admitted, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Guess it's pretty obvious."

Daniel laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. "You’ll be fine. Just stick around us drivers; we’re way more fun than those old journos anyway."

Just then, a few other drivers came over, drawn by the new face in the crowd. Lando Norris was quick to introduce himself, already full of playful questions.

"So, Y/N, are you here to keep an eye on me?" he teased, giving her a wink. "Because, let’s be honest, I’m the only interesting one on the grid."

"Right," Y/N said, unable to help the laugh that escaped. "I’ll try to keep my focus on you, Lando."

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good luck with that. But hey, if you ever want the real story, you know who to ask."

Y/N quickly felt herself relaxing as the drivers bantered with her, making her feel more at home. Soon, the entire paddock was buzzing with news of the young, friendly reporter. And the drivers? Well, they seemed determined to keep her close.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself almost part of the F1 family. She’d interview the drivers in the press pen, and somehow, every single one of them found a way to add a bit of personal advice or a subtle check-in.

"Did you eat today?" Lewis Hamilton asked her once, holding out an extra protein bar during a post-practice interview.

"Oh, I… yeah, I grabbed something earlier," she stammered, a little caught off guard.

He nodded, handing her the bar anyway. "You’re going to need the energy. Trust me. This job doesn’t slow down."

Even Sebastian Vettel would occasionally pause to check in on her. Once, he found her frowning at her notes during a practice session. "Don’t worry too much about getting every detail perfect, Y/N," he said kindly. "You’re doing great. Just be yourself—that’s what people connect with."

"Thanks, Seb," she said, feeling a bit of relief wash over her. "I guess I’m just… I don’t want to mess up."

Seb gave her a reassuring smile. "You won’t. Just remember, we’re all here to help if you need it."

Then, there was Carlos Sainz. Unlike the others, his way of protecting her was a bit more… personal. The first time she interviewed him, he was warm and polite, but as the weeks passed, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He’d always look at her with this glint in his eye, his smile lingering a second longer than necessary.

"Amor," he greeted her one morning, his Spanish accent adding a warmth to the word that made her cheeks heat up. "You’re looking stressed. Are they working you too hard?"

She blinked, feeling a little flustered. "Carlos, I’m fine, really. Just part of the job."

Carlos tilted his head, giving her a small, teasing smile. "Maybe. But if you need a break, you let me know, sí? Can’t have you running around too much."

The way he looked at her, the gentle tone of his voice, and the pet names—amor, cariño—all of it made her feel a little thrill each time they spoke.

As the season continued, it became clear to everyone in the paddock that Y/N was something special. Not just another reporter but someone who cared about them, respected them, and brought a certain brightness with her wherever she went. And as they got closer, the drivers each took on their own version of ‘big brother’ with her.

One afternoon, she was struggling with some heavy equipment when Pierre Gasly spotted her and practically sprinted over.

"Whoa, whoa, no way, Y/N. We’re not doing this," he said, taking the bag off her shoulder. "You’re not carrying anything if we’re around, okay?"

"Pierre, I can handle it, seriously," she tried to argue, but Pierre just shook his head.

"Not happening. You’re stuck with all of us now, so get used to it."

She had barely gotten over Pierre’s chivalrous intervention when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she found Charles Leclerc standing with a concerned frown.

"Y/N, I saw you trip on the stairs earlier. You didn’t hurt yourself, right?"

She laughed, brushing it off. "I’m fine, Charles. Just a little stumble."

He crossed his arms, clearly not convinced. "Alright, well, just… watch your step, okay?"

Everywhere she went, there seemed to be a driver looking out for her. They’d bring her water bottles when it was hot, extra snacks when she looked tired, and Carlos, of course, was always there to check on her, calling her mi vida and making sure she never felt alone.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Carlos found her sitting on a low wall by the track, staring out over the circuit, lost in thought.

"Mind if I join you, cariño?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Not at all," she smiled as he sat beside her.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Carlos spoke. "You know, everyone here thinks of you as a sister."

Y/N laughed. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. I can’t even carry my own things anymore!"

Carlos chuckled, his fingers brushing her arm. "It’s because we care about you. And some of us…" He paused, his gaze turning serious. "Some of us more than others."

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him. "Carlos…"

He gave her a shy smile, something rare for the usually confident driver. "I just want you to know, Y/N. You’re not alone here."

She nodded, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I know. Thanks, Carlos."

Just then, Max passed by, smirking. "Hey, Carlos, not hogging Y/N, are we?"

Carlos shot him a look. "Can’t a man have a moment, Max?"

Max grinned, winking at Y/N. "Don’t worry, Y/N. If he’s bothering you, just let us know."

As Max walked off, Carlos rolled his eyes, but his hand found hers, squeezing gently. "They’ll never leave you alone now, mi amor. Better get used to us all."

Y/N smiled, looking out over the track, feeling for the first time that she truly belonged. Surrounded by a family of drivers, each one ready to support, protect, and care for her, she knew this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

--

It was the last night of the race weekend, and the paddock was almost deserted. Only a few lights remained on, casting a soft glow over the empty garages and tents. Y/N lingered by the trackside, her heart racing in her chest. She had made up her mind—she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t feel anything for Carlos. But she didn’t think she’d be standing here, ready to confess her feelings in such a big way.

"You got this, Y/N," Lando said, giving her a little nudge of encouragement. The rest of the drivers had banded together, helping her plot the perfect confession for the man who had her heart.

"But what if he… I don’t know, laughs?" Y/N wrung her hands nervously, feeling her cheeks flush. "What if he doesn’t feel the same way?"

"Then he’s an idiot," Pierre chimed in with a grin, his arm around her shoulder. "But trust me, he’s not that dumb. I mean, he calls you cariño every day. I’m pretty sure he’s already halfway in love with you."

Sebastian, who had come along to witness the moment, chuckled. "You’ve grown up so fast, Y/N. Look at you—confessing your feelings like a true professional."

"Just… be yourself," Charles added, giving her an encouraging smile. "Carlos would be lucky to have you."

"Really?" she whispered, looking at her friends with wide eyes. They all nodded emphatically, giving her the strength she needed to take the leap.

As she waited, Y/N glanced back at her team of ‘brothers,’ who were hiding in the shadows with poorly concealed excitement. George and Alex were practically bouncing on their toes, and even Max was grinning.

Finally, she saw Carlos walking towards her, his hair still a little messy from the day, his eyes bright despite the late hour. "Y/N?" he asked, his brows raised in surprise. "What’s going on?"

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to lose her nerve. "Carlos, there’s something I need to tell you. And, um… please just listen, okay? Don’t say anything until I’m finished."

Carlos’s smile softened as he nodded. "Of course, mi vida."

"Right, okay…" She took another breath, staring at the ground, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. "So, ever since I started here, you’ve… you’ve been one of the best parts of my job. The way you tease me, how you’re always looking out for me, calling me all those sweet names…" She laughed, slightly embarrassed. "At first, I thought it was just you being nice. But then… I realized it’s more than that for me. I… I really like you, Carlos. A lot."

There was a soft gasp from somewhere behind her, probably Lando, but Y/N kept her eyes on Carlos, who looked utterly stunned.

"I just couldn’t go on pretending I didn’t feel this way," she continued, her voice trembling. "And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… I needed you to know."

Carlos took a step closer, his gaze intense, and she could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes that made her heart swell. "Y/N," he murmured, reaching for her hands. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that. I was so sure… so sure you only saw me as a friend."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Carlos, I’ve had the biggest crush on you for months. You call me cariño, amor—it’s impossible not to fall for you."

He laughed softly, pulling her closer. "Well, in that case, let me say it properly." His voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. "Te quiero, Y/N. I want you, too."

A mix of squeals and cheers erupted from the shadows as the other drivers stepped out, clapping and wiping away mock tears.

"Finally!" Daniel shouted, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Our little Y/N is all grown up!"

George pretended to dab at his eyes. "I’m not crying… it’s just… allergies."

Pierre gave her an affectionate grin, giving Carlos a nod of approval. "You better take care of her, Sainz."

Carlos laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her into his side. "Don’t worry. I’ll treat her like the queen she deserves to be."

Max crossed his arms, his smile warm. "Good answer, mate. We’ve been waiting for this moment forever."

Y/N looked around at her friends, her cheeks sore from smiling. "Thank you, all of you. I couldn’t have done it without you."

Sebastian raised a pretend glass, grinning. "To Y/N and Carlos. And to all the big brothers who made this night possible."

Lando cleared his throat, looking almost sentimental as he pulled her into a quick hug. "We’re really happy for you, Y/N. But remember, if Carlos gives you any trouble, we’ll be right here."

Carlos chuckled, looking down at her with a playful smirk. "I think I have more to worry about than you do, cariño. With all these guys watching out for you, I’ll have to be on my best behavior."

"And that," Y/N said, squeezing his hand, "is exactly how I want it."

Surrounded by her friends—her family—she felt an overwhelming wave of happiness wash over her. As she looked up at Carlos, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the knowledge that she was exactly where she belonged.

--

A few years down the road, Y/N had cemented her place as the paddock’s heart and soul. Fans adored her interviews, and the teams always lit up when she was around. Being married to Carlos only added to the love everyone felt for her, and for Carlos, it made him proud—and fiercely protective.

The first few months of her pregnancy, however, had been kept tightly under wraps. Only she and Carlos knew, and they were still basking in the news in secret. But now, as she tried to hide her growing morning sickness and Carlos’s over-attentive concern, things were getting harder to keep quiet.

One morning in the paddock, Max Verstappen happened to pass by and saw Y/N doubled over, looking pale as she sat on a crate outside the Red Bull garage.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Max asked, concerned, immediately handing her his water bottle. "You don’t look too great."

Y/N tried to wave him off with a weak smile. "Oh, it’s nothing, Max, I just… I think it was something I ate."

"Something you ate?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been saying that a lot lately."

"Just bad luck, I guess," she said, but the nausea hit her again, and she had to lean over to steady herself.

Max’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he pieced it together. "No way. No way. Y/N—are you…"

Y/N’s face flushed, but she couldn’t deny it, her weak smile giving her away.

"Oh my god." Max’s mouth fell open as he processed it. "Carlos got you pregnant?!"

“Shh!” Y/N whispered, glancing around in a panic. "Max, keep it down! We’re not telling people yet!"

Max clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my god. Y/N, you’re pregnant." He blinked rapidly, his lips quivering as he tried to hold it together. "You’re gonna have a little Sainz?"

She bit her lip and nodded, smiling softly. “Yes. But you can’t tell anyone yet.”

Max was silent for a moment, his eyes shimmering. Then he let out a choked laugh and pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering, “I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be the best mom, Y/N. I can already see it.”

Y/N laughed as he let her go, but not before he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Stop crying, Max,” she teased. “You’re making me want to cry, too!”

“I can’t help it,” he sniffled, looking sheepish. “This is huge! And now I have to protect you and the baby?”

“You don’t have to,” she laughed, but Max was already shaking his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you lift a finger,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “And I’m making sure Carlos does the same. You’ll have every single driver looking out for you.”

Just then, Carlos approached, his brow furrowing as he saw Max wiping at his eyes. “Max, what’s going on?”

Max pointed a stern finger at Carlos. “You, Sainz, have one job. You better take care of her and the little one. Or else…”

Carlos raised his hands, amused but wary. “I am taking care of her, Verstappen. Trust me.”

“No, not enough!” Max argued, his voice almost panicked. “She was just sitting here, pale as a ghost, and you weren’t even around!”

Y/N stifled a laugh, but Carlos just smirked, nodding in understanding. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep an even closer eye on her. Promise.”

Max softened a bit, but he wasn’t letting up. “Good. Because if anything happens to Y/N or the baby, anything, you’re answering to me. And Lando, and Pierre, and basically every guy in this paddock who cares about her.”

“Max, I think Carlos knows what he’s doing,” Y/N said, a smile playing on her lips.

Max looked between them, then grinned, his face softening. “Fine, but I’m still watching you both.” He took a deep breath, then pulled her into another hug. “I’m so, so happy for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Max,” she whispered, hugging him back. “I think we’ll need you and the others looking out for us.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving Max a nod of gratitude. “Gracias, amigo. She’ll have all the protection she needs.”

“Good.” Max wiped his eyes one last time, giving them both a fierce nod. “Because we’re all family. And now… we’re growing.”

--

The Singapore Grand Prix was notorious for its blistering heat, and this year was no exception. The sweltering air clung to everyone, and for Y/N, who was visibly and heavily pregnant, it was nearly unbearable. But duty called, and the FIA insisted that she continue her scheduled interviews.

As she was setting up for another interview, the heat making her dizzy, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Lewis Hamilton approached her with a look of disbelief, glancing at her with concern. “You should be sitting in an air-conditioned room right now, not out here in this heat.”

“Lewis, it’s fine,” she said with a weak smile, though she was struggling. “It’s just a few interviews.”

Before he could respond, Max and Oscar joined them, both looking equally shocked.

“Are they out of their minds?” Max muttered, his face turning red with anger. “You shouldn’t be out here like this!”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Oscar added, frowning. “This isn’t safe. You’re not a machine.”

Y/N tried to brush them off, but she felt another wave of dizziness hit her. She steadied herself, but Charles had already noticed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s it,” he said firmly. “This is ridiculous. They can’t make you do this.”

“It’s okay, really—” she began, but the drivers were not having it.

Lewis crossed his arms, looking around with a sharp glare. “Who do we need to talk to? This isn’t happening, not today.”

As if on cue, a member of the FIA walked over, clipboard in hand. “Y/N, are we ready for the next interview?”

Max stepped in front of her before she could answer, his voice low and menacing. “She’s not doing any more interviews. Send someone else.”

The official frowned, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me? This is her job—”

“Yeah, and her job shouldn’t put her or her baby in danger,” Charles interjected angrily. “She’s done for the day.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Get someone else. This isn’t up for discussion.”

The FIA official looked bewildered, glancing at Y/N, but Lewis shot him a glare that would have stopped anyone in their tracks. “You have plenty of other reporters. Don’t make us get security involved.”

Seeing no way around it, the official nodded reluctantly. “Fine. She can go. But this will be reported.”

The drivers didn’t care; they were already surrounding Y/N protectively, guiding her towards the paddock lounge.

“Thank you, guys,” she murmured, touched by their concern. “But I can handle this, really—”

“No way,” Max cut her off, shaking his head. “Carlos would kill us if we let you stay out there in this heat.”

As they led her to the lounge, Carlos appeared, having just gotten word of what happened. His expression was a mix of relief and anger as he approached the group. “Qué demonios? Y/N, why didn’t you call me?”

Y/N shrugged, looking sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

Carlos looked ready to explode, turning to the FIA official who had followed them, probably to try and salvage the situation. “You made her work out there, in this heat, while she’s pregnant? Are you insane?”

The official held up his hands defensively. “We were just following standard protocol—”

“To hell with your protocol!” Carlos shouted, his face flushed with anger. “She’s carrying our child, and you’re risking her health for some interviews?”

“Mr. Sainz, please calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Carlos snapped, switching to rapid Spanish that the official clearly didn’t understand, though the tone left no doubts about what he was saying. “This is unacceptable. Inaceptable!”

“Carlos, you’re going to get fined,” Lewis warned quietly, though he was smirking a little, clearly pleased to see someone giving the FIA a piece of their mind.

“Fine me, I don’t care,” Carlos shot back. “It’ll be worth every cent if it means they treat her properly.”

The official quickly left, muttering something about reporting this to higher-ups, but the drivers didn’t care. They were all clustered around Y/N, making sure she was comfortable as they brought her a cold towel and water.

As soon as she was settled in, Max crouched beside her, giving her a warm but firm look. “From now on, you call us if they try to make you do anything stupid again, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, touched by their fierce protectiveness. “I promise.”

Carlos sat beside her, still fuming, but his hand gently rested on her stomach, protective and calming. “If they pull anything like this again, they’ll have to deal with all of us,” he said, his tone softer but no less serious.

That night, news of Carlos’s outburst—and his subsequent fine—spread like wildfire across social media. Fans took to Twitter, trending hashtags like #ProtectY/N and #JusticeForY/N. Clips of the drivers banding together to protect her from the heat circulated, and the internet quickly turned it into a rallying cry against the FIA’s treatment of Y/N.

@F1Fanatic: "Carlos got fined for standing up for his pregnant wife, and I’m here for it. #ProtectY/N 💪🔥"

@PaddockPrincess: "Seeing all the drivers look out for Y/N is the purest thing ever. She deserves all the love 🥹❤️ #FamilyGoals #ProtectY/N"

@F1Daily: "We all knew Carlos was protective, but the way he went off on the FIA? ICONIC. #JusticeForY/N"

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she scrolled through the support from fans, all of whom felt like an extended family. With Carlos by her side, and a whole paddock of brothers watching over her, she knew she and her baby would be safe, no matter what.

[charliemwrites]

Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

[ivysprophecy]

Not so good surprise.

warnings: talk about nipples, nipple piercings, mentions of sex and boners? i think that’s it. obvious cursing.

word count: 728

an: hey guys!! so this is my first time posting in a long time but both my friend and i @kimoralov3 wanted to write little blurbs about jj reacting to nipple piercings so please go show theirs some love!! warning this is unedited so i hope it’s not too incoherent

—

"JJ! Baby are you home?? I got ya a surprise!" you walk through the door with a sneaky smirk on your face, setting your bag on the couch as you walk in.

He walks out of the bedroom adjusting his hat on his head, his eyes clocking your chest the second he looks at you. His mouth is a gap, unable to look away from your chest.

"What's that?" he points at your chest accusatory walking closer, his eyes not moving.

"What's what baby?"

"That- those- right there- those-," his finger reaches out poking at your erected nipple causing you to let out a small yelp raising your hands to cover them.

"Woah! Owe- shit baby you can't touch them yet! They're so fucking sensitive- shit that hurt."

And with that his eyes finally move from your chest up to your face, bulging out of his sockets.

"Shit mama I'm sorry- wait- pause. Time out baby, did you just say I can't touch them yet??"

You nod amused at his reaction, wincing a little at the lasting ache, "Yea, you gotta wait a couple months to let them heal."

"Well how long is that supposed to be??"

"The guy said anywhere from 4-9 months."

"NINE MONTHS??" Your poor boyfriend is flabbergasted, wounded, physically pained by the news. You could swear you see tears swelling in his eyes. "Wait- wait wait wait wait. You're telling me some random guy did this??"

"I mean yea- I had to go to a professional. It just happened to be a guy."

JJ in all honestly couldn't care less if it was a guy or a girl, he's just pissed that it wasn't him who got to do it, to be there, to see it, to see them.

"So I can't touch them at all? Until their all healed up? Mama that's too long... I can't kiss 'em? Touch 'em at all? Shit-" Poor guy is in agony, quite literally spiraling at the thought of not being able to have his hands on them. With or without the piercings. "Doesn't seem like a good surprise mama."

You can't help but laugh at him honestly, he's quite literally almost in tears.

"Are you sure about that baby?" he's about to give his two cents and complain before you carefully lift your tank top over your head and tossing it on the couch next to your bag. "How about now."

Now, the boy is silent. Stuck dead in his tracks, mouth open like a fish out of water gasping for air.

"I know they're a little bruised and swollen so they look funny right now but-"

"Shhhh sh sh sh-" He interrupts you putting a finger to your lips, looking down at them in admiration. Again you can't help but giggle. Your boyfriend has never been one to hide how he feels about anything, usually dramatically as well. "Holy shit mama- look at 'em they've got little jewels 'n shit- look so pretty mama. How am I supposed to not touch these? So beautiful-"

"Well if you want you can help me clean them but that's the closest you're gonna get."

"How do you clean 'em?" Frankly it was adorable that he was so desperate that he was willing to learn.

"I've gotta take a cup, put some saline in there and tilt it back onto them a few times so I can wash them out good- it actually looks kinda silly-"

"But when I do that I can touch them right?"

You can't stop giggling at this point. "Yes JJ, you'll be able to hold 'em while I do it."

"A win is a win I guess- I can do this. For sure."

You press a kiss to your boyfriends lip with a smile still lingering on your face. "You're adorable baby. But I don't think you'll last a day. But you can look at 'em all you want I promise. I have to wear loose shirts anyway so you'll have easier access-"

"Don't tease me right now mama I'm serious- already got me all worked up just by lookin' at 'em."

And sure enough JJ was already working a semi, "Oh you poor thing... why don't we head to the bedroom and let 'mama' fix that for you yea?"

He was off the bedroom, dragging you behind him before you could even finish.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Stuck Replaying the Memory.

Yan Aventurine x GN (Avgin) Reader.

Synopsis: Life exists with the support of the Aeons, but malice is something humanity has reigned over for thousands of years.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, human trafficking, the reader is described having blonde hair and Avgin eyes, descriptions of past abuse (not from Aventurine), and major spoilers for Aventurine's backstory.

Word Count: 700.

a big thanks to my friends @harmonysanreads and @mochinon-yah for proofreading some of it!!

*~*~*~*

You were taught to keep your head down and your hopes just as low – hell seems like heaven this far beneath dead soil and skeletons of the past’s nameless victims.

Your new god makes no critique of your stance that is akin to a prayer’s and not a slave. Despite your posture being near perfect from the eleven or so past lords and ladies that would burn your skin and tongue with hot iron if you had done otherwise, you still find your posture imperfect. Impolite. There were screams and fires just moments before – your master and his new wife fleeing with guards, pleading for mercy that they had never granted to you – and then silence from outside your chamber.

*~*~*~*

“Hair like honey,” The man’s fingers brushing through your locks are cold and have long nails; the same ones that the woman caresses your scarred back with. “Eyes like jewels. Pretty rare little thing; there aren’t many of you left… If you misbehave, perhaps that number will decline even further.”

*~*~*~*

The divine starts to kneel before you – one of his hands caressing the tattoo on the side of your neck. 

It’s an odd sight; so odd that you have the urge to look up.

You don’t though, because you have been taught how not to get hurt when great beings bless you with their presence.

You hear him read your new name aloud. “Sun…”

You wince from the past memories of it being called in the places where dinner guests would populate the most on the estate. The gardens and the banquet table especially. They would gawk at you and give you all their unwanted attention. Your behavior would be evaluated and you would either be rewarded with gifts befitting that of a royal or chains befitting that of a dog.

“That isn’t your real name, right?”

 The question is raised with a tone that is often paired with your wrist, or worse your hair or ear, being tugged until you confess an answer to the presumption or question. Suspicion of treason leads to you getting charged for the crimes you did to help yourself – a small tunnel being dug with a spoon, a lockpick made from a bobby pin one of the maids put in your hair, bleeding feet from running as fast as they could carry you – most of the time you get hurt or put in a small room by yourself until you beg to be released from it.

*~*~*~*

“But if you listen, the promise to love you will never be broken.” His wife adds.

*~*~*~*

This god looks like you.

Eyes akin to a galaxy that has lost its stars. Flowing hair that reminds you of your lord’s treasure trove locked down below. There is a tattoo on his neck similar to yours, but has some imperfections that only you would notice. It says ‘Slave’ but the outline of the word seems a bit rough. The artist had an uncooperative muse it would seem.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. His tone is sweeter now – possibly from how he had taken note of the trembling you were trying so hard to hide. Your ears register his voice and your brain compares the many screaming, yelling, heinous voices from the past. The memory starts to play in your brain like an electrical shock one of the maids would give to you whenever you would do so much as to look past the doorway to the outside world.

“Kakavasha?”

“It’s Aventurine now,” Your old friend stands up holding the chain attached to your handcuffs. Something tells you they won’t come off any time soon. “We have a lot to discuss, [First].”

He swings the key in his other hand and puts it in his pocket.

“I’m not letting you go again.”

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader

day 2/7

summary: this is part two of my short story about the boys’ trip to curaçao (read the other one first, or don’t). hamzah’s getting you all riled up and mandy and martin begin to notice his unusual behavior with you.

contains: SFW content

wc: 2k-ish

~

You wake up to an empty bed and some part of you feels disheartened at the sight. The only evidence of Hamzah ever being there is the indent in the pillow and the shorts he borrowed folded neatly atop the mattress. You sit up to stretch, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 10:02 and you decide to get dressed.

When you grab your phone on the way out, you see a text message light up your screen.

morning :)

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, but before you can type out your reply, a pair of large hands grab your shoulders and you nearly launch into the ceiling.

"Fuck—Hamzah!"

He cackles at your scream. You slap his arm, immediately shutting him up as he rubs the spot to soothe it.

"Dumbass," you grumble.

"Good morning to you, too." The grin on his face doesn't fade for a second.

"Whatever.” You shut the front door and walk down the hallway alongside him. “When did you wake up?”

"'Round 9,” he yawns out. "Martin called me back and we got the room situation sorted."

He pulls his new key card out of his wallet and holds it between his fingers to show you. “Nice.”

Upon finding the hotel pool already chock-full of people, the two of you decide to meet Mandy and Martin at a restaurant they told Hamzah they'd be at. The GPS on your phone’s map gives you a hard time and you nearly walk into oncoming traffic with your nose deep in the screen. Hamzah reaches out to grab your forearm and pulls you back right as a taxi flies by.

"That was way too close," he says. Both of you breathe heavily at the realization that it could've ended way worse. "I think I know where it’s at anyway, just follow me."

"Sorry," you apologize, blushing. He smiles and shakes his head to dismiss your embarrassment. His hand stays on the middle of your back as he leads the rest of the way. The sparks you feel from his touch can hardly be ignored.

You get seated in a booth with the couple, who have already ordered some appetizers in anticipation of your arrival. The four of you dig into some sort of steamed veggie dish and catch up.

"Martin kept me up all night," Mandy says.

"Yeah, I got stamina." Martin nonchalantly shrugs.

"No, you literally passed out the moment you went to bed." She rolls her eyes. "I had to check if he was breathing, like, 5 times."

"She got yo lying ass, boy," Hamzah says, laughing with you. "I think I was snoring all night. Those drinks had me messed up."

"You weren't," you assure him.

"How do you know that?" Martin diverts the attention to you.

"Because someone was dead asleep and couldn't help his best friend get back into his hotel room," Hamzah replies pointedly. Martin sinks into his seat and takes a bite of food while pouting.

"So, you guys were stuck in the same bed?" Mandy asks, genuinely interested. "How'd that go?"

"It was—"

"We were—"

You look at each other and you nod your head, gesturing for him to talk first. He nods back and places his hand on your knee under the table before continuing. Your heart leaps to your throat.

"We were watching some show in Dutch that we couldn't understand until we knocked out."

"That's it?" This earns Martin a light smack on the arm from Mandy and a fiery glare from you.

"Was it the one with the bald dad and the ginger kids?"

"Yeah, how'd you—?"

"I watched it with Martin's mom the day before we came. It’s pretty popular here."

Hamzah's hand is still on your knee, occasionally running his thumb over your skin like it's the most natural thing in the world. You try to be attentive and contribute to the conversation, but it's a struggle when your mind is constantly wandering. When the waiter comes to take your orders, you choose something random off the menu because you were too lost in thought. You’re starting to think you need to be spayed because of how much this affects you.

"I can't believe we have to leave in a week," Hamzah says. You look up from the table.

"Don't remind me," you groan.

"I miss Rudy," Mandy admits with a sigh, "and Fish and Carl, of course."

"Every parent has their favorites.” Martin shrugs.

Your food arrives after some more chatter. Hamzah's hand leaves the spot on your thigh he’d slowly worked up to and you feel like you can breathe again. This trip has made you guys a lot closer than you ever anticipated, but it makes you wonder how things will be once you get back home.

“Wanna bite?” Hamzah whispers to only you. “It’s pretty good.”

“Lemme try.” You pluck a piece of omelette from his plate and bite into it. “Yum. Try mine.”

He shovels a scoop of your yogurt bowl into his mouth and hums. “Let’s split?”

“Yes, please.”

The meal ends with Martin paying for Mandy and Hamzah paying for you, in a surprise turn of events. You try to fight him back on it, but once he swipes his card without a word you know it's settled.

"All that YouTube money has gone to your head," you joke.

"I got fat stacks."

"Ew." You and Mandy cringe.

The couple walks ahead of you up the street and the two of you walk side by side.

"Was that alright?" Hamzah asks once the others are out of earshot.

"What do you mean?"

"Y'know, me paying." He nudges your shoulder. "It felt like the right thing to do."

"It did?" you ask, a smile growing on your face. "I didn't mind it."

"Good, good..." He walks with his hands in his pockets, kicking a rock every couple of steps.

"I actually thought it was cute."

He exhales through his nose, smiling at the ground. "Was it?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Thanks, Hamzah."

"No biggie."

You scrunch up your face and he laughs once he sees your expression. His laughter could cure even the most fatal illnesses, you're convinced. You take steps in unison for a bit—right, left, right, left—until he clears his throat to speak again.

"And, um," he starts, licking his lips. "When I put my hand on your leg..."

"Mhm?" You enjoy seeing the way his face contorts as he tries to find his words.

"Was that... alright, too?"

"I didn't mind it," you repeat.

He shakes his head and this time it's your turn to laugh. The tips of his ears turn red under his hat, making your heart pound at the sight. He fixes the hat tighter on his head and you fight the urge to tuck one of his stray curls behind his ear. Instead, you find that your feet lead you closer to his side, your fingertips brushing past his ever so slightly.

The couple eventually stops at a building and the two of you rush to catch up.

"We made it, kids," Martin says with a smile once you reach them.

"An art museum?" Hamzah questions as he reads the sign at the door. "Are we museum people?"

"We are now," Martin says, turning to walk inside.

"He's been talking about this since we landed," Mandy explains. "C'mon, guys."

Your group enters the museum and you look around at the historic paintings and sculptures from various Curaçaoan artists. Any and all doubt is washed from your mind as you make your way through the space, carefully observing art you haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. Hamzah follows close by, never straying too far as to not miss the way you react to each piece with 'oo's and 'ah's.

"Here's what we came for!" Martin points at a painting in the corner.

You walk closer and catch sight of a beautiful beach landscape. There's bright green shrubbery in the forefront, leading up to a peachy-toned sunset with tropical birds flying in the background. Mandy excuses herself to check out the gift shop and Martin huddles the three of you together.

"One day, I'm gonna propose to her here," he whispers. His finger traces the plaque below the canvas. You'd been to this beach the day you touched ground in Curaçao. It was the first thing you guys did, even before checking in at the hotel.

"Martin," you gasp, eyes wide. He shushes you and you lower your voice. "That's so sweet, oh my god."

"She walked right by it," he beams. "She has no clue."

"That's great, man." Hamzah clasps his hand on Martin's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "She'll love it, for sure."

"I can't believe I'm gonna be a maid of honor," you squeal as quietly as you can. Martin shushes you again but you can barely contain your excitement, turning to Hamzah to find his eyes already on you.

"What makes you so sure it'll be you?" he teases.

"It will be." You raise your eyebrows, challenging him to say otherwise.

"As long as I can be best man."

You take a couple pictures of Martin standing next to the painting with his thumbs up, narrowly avoiding Hamzah's photobombing attempts. When you finally walk away, Martin motions for you both to zip your lips. You mime crossing your heart and make your way to the gift shop.

There's shelves of souvenirs with prints of the art pieces from the museum, as well as some nearby tourist attractions that you recognize from visiting recently. You get to the jewelry section and run your fingers across the array of bangles and necklaces, hearing how they jingle as they move. Once you get to the end of the table, you notice a reddish-brown beaded bracelet.

"'Handmade,'" you mumble, reading the tag.

Hamzah stops close by your turned back and sees what's caught your attention from over your shoulder. "What's that?"

"Isn't it pretty?" You slip the bracelet onto your wrist and hold it up to show him. He grabs another one, doing the same.

Mandy suddenly calls for you and you walk over to her.

"I want this book so bad." She holds up a leather bound book with golden letters on the front, flipping through the pages to reveal photographs of nearby landmarks. "Wouldn't it look cute on our coffee table?"

“We have so much stuff from this trip already—“ Martin starts, but upon seeing Mandy’s glare, agrees.

You conclude that married life would suit them very well.

Your group loiters around the museum until you've seen everything it has to offer, snapping a few pics of your favorites along the way. Hamzah volunteers to take a few aesthetic photos of you, but when you get your phone back, your camera roll is full of him making funny faces. You know you’ll get him back for it eventually.

The four of you make it halfway back to the hotel when you look down and realize the bracelet is still on your wrist. You halt in the middle of the sidewalk and curse at the wind.

"Guys," you call out, making them stop as well. "I'll meet you there, I forgot to put this bracelet back."

"You stole?" Martin exaggerates. "Dang it, now we're all accomplices!"

"Say it louder, why don't you?" You roll your eyes, turning on your heels to walk back up the street.

"YOU STO—"

Hamzah slaps his palm across his friend's mouth, "I got it, don't worry."

"What?" You turn back.

He holds up his free hand and shakes the bracelet on his wrist. "I paid already. You don't have to go back."

You part your lips, but no words come out.

Mandy and Martin share a glance with each other, him mumbling something unintelligible. Hamzah drops his hands and fidgets with his hat.

"I feel bad," you finally say, your cheeks warming up uncontrollably. "You're too nice."

"I wish I had a sugar daddy," Martin complains. You collectively ignore him.

"Thank you, Hamzah," you say with a smile. "I appreciate it."

"You liked the bracelet, so..." He shrugs it off.

The walk back to the hotel commences and you feel your pulse thumping with each step. Once again, the couple get ahead of you two, but that’s fine by you. Mandy turns a few times to make eye contact with you and raise her eyebrows ridiculously. You just shake your head and try not to grin too hard.

The weather is muggy and the sun is beaming on your heads, but Hamzah’s warm hand finds yours despite it all. Your bracelets graze each other and you wordlessly make a pact to not let go.

~

a/n: u get what u want in the next part ya filthy animals!!! also sorry i took so long, i’m still not 100% happy w how this turned out but i wanted to pump something out before u guys start chasing me w wooden stakes and pitchforks :-)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine: Scar turning human so he can seduce you.

*set in the House of Villains universe. Ursula turned him.

Also don't ask me how this works with Lion vs human lifespans, I don't know. Just ignore it 😅

Scar turns into a very dashing older gentleman, of course. Long pitch-black hair he either leaves down in a fluffy dead mess or even ties up in a high ponytail after some-time in the new human body, sharp green eyes made brighter by gorgeous dark skin, and lanky. -And, being his wicked self, he absolutely notices how the new appearance effects one little... old... you. Even if he doesnt particularly care for the odd look, your reactions to just him standing a little too close to you- make it all too worth it.

Scar starts immediately making your life hell, as soon as he gets used to walking up on two legs. Popping up anywhere you are needing help (somehow he always knows when you're in dire straights?? I mean- of course he does), offering his assistance and a few flirty little comments. First to make you aware what he wanted, and then to convince you. Entice you.

Scar fucking up basic tasks like carrying trays (letting the tray tilt so food and drinks slip off and crash to the ground) and opening clipboards (letting all the paper slip out onto the floor), because he's not used to thumbs. It's endearing as fuck and somehow he manages to make an 'oops' look charming with too-wide, too-pretty green eyes and the ease of an older man who knows a little bit of clumsy can be cute.

Scar gracefully scaring off mean villains who decide to get nasty with you because they're in a bad mood. No, his teeth may not be as sharp as they were but he'll still use them. It'll be a shame to get blood on this shirt but he will. 'Keep that in mind, old woman.'

Scar finally winning you over and guess what? He may look like a man but he's still affectionate like a lion. He does not give a flying fuck who's around, who's watching, when he comes up behind you. When the old man draws your body back against his too-snuggly and licks the flat of his tongue over your shoulder, and neck, your pressure point. He loves to taste your skin and feel your pulse point jump. Why should he care? Your stuffy idea of what he can and cannot do to his mate when he wants are of no consequence to him. So pathetically human. Far too human for him. 'Sc- Scar! Frollo is- ' 'Let the little man shriek. I truly could not care even a slither less, Y/N.'

Scar truly not noticing it if anyone else takes interest in him in his new, Hot, human form. He only has eyes for you. Medusa could be hardcore flirting with him across the table and Scar's busy listening to you talk to Hades and Rourke, and fingering the edge of your top between his fingers. She could throw herself at him and he'd conveniently side step her just in time. Okay. Maybe he notices; he's a smart man. But he absolutely acts like he doesn't XD

Scar paying Ursula back for the transformation by delivering to her poor Edgar, who is now her servant. 'Hmm- I take it this means you won the girl over??' 'Mhmm, take the old butler now. I have a young woman to mate. Sorry, Edgar, business and all that.'

[wonwovy]

𐔌 KMG ⋮ MODEL HEADCANONS ⸝⸝

⋆.˚ warning ! this content contains nsfw, if you are a minor please do not interact.

model!mingyu who is a world renowned model with many fashion covers & high end brand deals.

model!mingyu who heard of a new rising star model, aspiring to be as successful as him.

model!mingyu who had gotten the news that he would collab with said model for the monthly vogue cover, which he felt quite curious to see what was all the fuss about you.

model!mingyu who was quite stunned by your gorgeousness & beauty when he finally met you but managed to mask it, giving off a nonchalant vibe.

model!mingyu who tried ignoring you as much as he could because he wouldn’t let his rich playboy persona crash down just because of a pretty thing like you ( which he failed miserably afterwards. )

model!mingyu who tensed a bit (a lot) when the photographer instructed him to cover your breasts with his big veiny hands.

model!mingyu who smugly smirked seeing you getting all flustered when the photographer told you said pose. but he certainly wasn’t having the last laugh. when you both finally got into the position, mingyu felt his little friend say hello and to say his cheeks flushed pink was an understatement.

model!mingyu who zoomed into his private room as soon as you finished today’s set, purposefully ignoring you, taking care of his little problem.

model!mingyu who got held back by you as you finally got to the chance to speak to him. “h-hello mingyu-sunbae, thank you for today I’m so honored to be in shoot with you let alone a vogue cover” you sheepishly smiled in awe by his striking visuals then greeting all the staff in the room & thanking them for their hard work.

model!mingyu who just sat there giving a slight smile not sure what to say to you, clearly not wanting to embarrass himself infront of you. “thank you y/n” he finally managed to say trying to act calm. but quickly wished he just shut up & sat there smiling, who would say that?! he thought.

model!mingyu who sighed, relieved as everybody left his room for a break.

model!mingyu who slid his hand slowly to his raging boner, his mind going back to when he felt your tits, god he was a pervert for thinking about your sweet perky boobs.

model!mingyu who groaned as he palmed himself steadily but picking up his pace gradually as his filthy thoughts grew.

model!mingyu who got quite vocal as he chased his high, grinding his hips when his hand came in contact with the base of his long, girthy cock, creating some kind of new friction.

model!mingyu ‘s pleasurable feeling turned into a startled one as the door swung open revealing none than you, “o-oh my sunbae! I apologize for barging in, I-i thou-“ you stopped your speech as you finally the sticky (quite literally) situation that he’s in.

model!mingyu who was quick enough to cover himself but not quick enough to explain his well… current state, as you already have cracked it out. a satisfied smirk forming into your lips “wow sunbae seems you have a problem here” you giggle coming close to a still hard mingyu. “you know you’ve caused this right” he groaned as you sat between his legs, looking oh so pretty & not so innocently innocent.

model!mingyu who pulled your hair up so you would meet his beautiful brown eyes “it’s only fair for you to fix it yeah, angel?” a shit-eating grin on his lips as he leaned back, spreading his legs to offer you more access. obliging to his demands, licking the pinkish tip of his shaft. you lapped his tip a few more times before taking him whole till your chin nudged his balls.

model!mingyu who threw his back when you began to give him the messiest & filthiest head known to man, tangling his hand in your hair once again as he began to thrust his cock into your mouth, taking control over you “f-fuck gonna gag you with my big cock” he moaned out continuing to throw some more dirty words as his high came close.

model!mingyu whose seed gushed into your mouth with some of it dripping on your chin, creating a lewd but still beautiful look on your face “swallow it for me, baby” he squished your cheeks gently. gracefully gulping down his cum the salty bitter sweet taste painting you throat. “good girl” he pecked your lips. “you know mings, you did a good job for ‘professionally’ meeting me” you giggled as you & mingyu have been in a secret relationship for six months now.

model!mingyu who let out a hearty chuckle while he dressed up “god baby, you’re driving me crazy here” he said helping you stand up “remind me to thank you back at home” he whispered in your ear then softly kissing it.

boyfriend model!mingyu who can’t wait to get home to ruin his pretty little girlfriend all over again.

boyfriend model!mingyu who thanks god that no one can see you like this but himself.

boyfriend model!mingyu who hoped that no one catched your little raunchy act.

boyfriend model!mingyu who gave your bum quick slap and winking before going back to the shoot acting as if nothing happened.

⸝⸝ dividers by @/cafekitsune

⸝⸝ big thanks to @junkissed for proofreading this !!

[hanfourz]

― consume ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ | l.rw

pairing: fledgling!riwoo x human!reader (fem bodied)

genre: smut, fantasy

word count: 2.2k 0_0

warnings: blood!!, lots of kissing, biting, marking, cunilingus, use of riwoos real name (sanghyuk)

note: that pic is what inspired this whole thing btw... -🪼

walk with me... so riwoo fangs right..? what about fledgling!riwoo who just recently turned and his fangs are starting to fully grow (?).. so obviously they're kinda uncomfortable and cause him to need some sort of relief right?... do we see where i'm going with this?... oral fixation riwoo yes yes 🙂‍↕️

him needing to suck or bite something sooo bad it makes him wanna cry. and you’re always so willing to help him even though you're not a vampire yourself and don't fully know how it all works but you'd do anything for him. and at first he doesn't really tell you he's struggling with his new fangs but he winces when he's eating certain things and you see him constantly tonguing at his gums and kinda figure it out on your own. so ever the diligent partner, you start to do some research and figure out a couple remedies for his discomfort. a lot of the things you found sounded like things you would give to a teething baby and thought that idea wouldn't rly interest riwoo... but you saw something about biting and the cogs start turning.

so one day as you're chilling together you bring it up. you ask him how he'd feel about biting/feeding from you and at first he looks at you confused before saying something like 'shouldn't i be the one asking you that?' then he asks why you even thought of that. you tell him it might help with the fangs and he tries to brush it off and tells you he's fine and the discomfort should go away on its own. you don’t push it again that night but you hope he's at least thinking about it now because truth be told you couldn't really stop thinking about the idea of him feeding from you.

he does think about it. a lot. something he also didn't tell you was that your scent was so much stronger to him now and it was sooo enticing. he'd tried to ignore it, pushing away the urge to shove his nose in your neck and inhale when you walked past him. but it only got more and more intense as time passed which was the opposite of what he hoped would happen. it caused his fangs to nearly hurt with the need to sink them into your neck. but he withheld himself, absolutely refusing to tell you of this. he was pretty good at hiding it too, his behavior never really changing around you.

it was a day while you were cuddling that his last thin thread of control finally snapped. you had just gotten out the shower, hair washed and scent especially strong. you two were watching some show riwoo had put on. you were in a t-shirt and shorts while his head rested on your chest and your hands gently carded through his hair. he felt so peaceful like this, softly inhaling your scent and eyes starting to feel heavier. just when he was ready to doze off, he felt that uncomfortable tension in his gums again. he kept his eyes closed and tried to will the pain away but it was no use. it was only getting progressively worse, so much so that he had started to curl into you unknowingly. you’d already noticed when he tensed up but concern flooded you when you heard what sounded like a very quiet, pained whimper.

“baby? are you okay?” you’d asked softly, trying to look at his face that was now almost fully turned into your chest. he just whimpered softly again, not answering. “is it the fangs, love?” you heard a small sigh before riwoo nodded and lifted his head slightly. you tried not to gasp as you noticed his fangs now poking out from his top lip, much longer than they usually were. he leaned off of you and you followed, eyes holding bewilderment. 

“baby, that looks painful…” you whispered, still keeping your tone gentle. riwoo had leaned off of you to get away from your scent but you didn’t know that so you leaned towards him to get a better look but were utterly shocked when he flinched away. confusion flitted across your features, a strong furrow to your brows as you looked at him. “sanghyukie… what’s wrong?” your tone was slightly hurt as you asked and he felt bad but how could he explain it to you without sounding like a freak? 

“you.. your smell.. is a lot stronger now. it makes it difficult for me to think…” he answered eyes downcast and refusing to make contact. it all started to make sense to you now, his refusal of your original idea, his avoidance of the subject. he felt like he was losing control. 

“will it hurt you?” riwoo looks up at you, brows furrowed. 

“will what hurt me?” he asks, not understanding where this was going.

“feeding from me. would it hurt you?” you say, head tilted to the side in curiosity. riwoo stared at you for a minute. 

“no but… it might hurt you, love.” he says, concern lacing his tone. he could see the cogs turning in your head, running over his words and thinking about it. then he watches as whatever you’re thinking solidifies and he already knows what you’re about to say. you have that determined look in your eye that tells him you aren’t budging on this. 

“we don’t know for sure though, right? hyukie… if it might help, i wanna try. i don’t like seeing you suffering knowing i could help.” your brows are furrowed and your gaze is gentle as you watch him take your words in. he hesitates for a while, tongue running over his fangs out of sheer habit at this point. then he sighs and you think he’s giving in. 

“we can try… but if it hurts you we stop. and… i’m not sure i’ll be able to think clearly but if it’s too much, you have to stop me.” he concedes and watches a small smile settle across your lips. 

“okay, promise.” you say with barely contained excitement. 

riwoo can’t deny that he finds your eagerness cute, even if the entire idea makes him nervous. he doesn’t really understand why you’re so eager about it though… he assumes it’s just because you want to help him. which is partially true but he’s unaware of your own selfish desires. when you start moving closer to him, his brows raise in surprise. you wanted to try, now?! he steadies himself as your scent starts to grow nearly suffocating, gums already starting that odd tingling sensation. 

you take his hands in yours, pulling him a little closer while keeping that gentle smile on your face. he knows it’s supposed to help calm him but truly his heart feels like it might jump out his chest. everything about you was overwhelming him but he knows that he does want this. he wants to taste you, wants to be able to get that sweet smell straight from the source. the more he thinks about it, the more it starts to drive him insane. 

when your lips meet his, he doesn’t even register it at first. his mind goes into overdrive and it’s like a shock goes through his entire body. he moans into your mouth as he kisses you much more feverishly than either of you were expecting. he doesn’t know what comes over him as he starts to press further and further into your space. all he can think, smell, feel is you, you, you. when you whimper quietly, he moans again in response. it’s the most desperate and needy you think you’ve ever seen riwoo. you move so you’re on his lap, legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his shoulders. he starts to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck, fangs grazing over a spot on your neck that makes you shiver. he inhales sharply as he tastes your skin on his tongue. he drinks your scent in, his cock twitching in his pants.

when you whine and tilt your head back to give him more space, he starts to suck on the spot right under your ear. he wishes he could see your face but he thinks he might die if he pulls his nose away from your neck right now. he softly tongues over the mark he just sucked into your skin. you can feel his heavy breaths fan over your skin. your hands find purchase in his hair, not pulling it but just resting them there. you feel it as his fangs press into your skin, him testing the waters for now as he starts to leave little love bites down your shoulder. riwoo always liked biting you even before he was turned into a vampire, it was his favorite way of marking you. and you always expressed how much you liked it yourself. now was no different but you were even more turned on this time. you grind down onto him, his hips stuttering up into you. when he digs his teeth in a little harder, you keen into him. you feel like he’s edging you as he continues this pattern of softly biting before he presses his fangs in harder but not enough to pierce your skin. 

“sanghyuk… please, baby.” you whimper out, knowing you saying his name like that makes him weak. he sighs into your skin as his hands fully wrap around your waist. he runs his hands up your shirt and over your skin as he brings his lips back up to your neck. he inhales your scent again before he sinks his teeth into your skin. you fully moan at the feeling, a warmth like syrup spreading through your veins. riwoo loses himself as your taste fills his senses. he doesn’t even know he’s whimpering out and his hips are grinding into you. your hands scramble in his hair, tugging on it as you whine out again and again. you don’t know what you were expecting but it wasn’t this. you feel like you’ve taken three aphrodisiacs in one sitting. you’re completely consumed by the man attached to your neck, sucking your life force like it’s his own. like he needs the very air you breathe. like he might die if he doesn’t become one with your body. riwoo is faring much worse, almost cumming in his pants. and it only worsens when he feels you pulling on his hair and you grinding yourself down onto him. 

he pulls away, pupils blown wide with his lips and fangs stained red. his entire face is flushed and his eyes are still locked on the marks his fangs left in your skin, blood oozing from the still open wound. he leans back in and licks over the marks until the bleeding stops, moaning lewdly at the taste. you’re still swimming in ecstasy as he pulls away again. he looks up to see that you’re flushed and your eyes are barely open. he brings a hand up to your face and you lean into his touch, sighing softly as you make eye contact. a small smile plays on your lips and he feels his heart jump in his chest. 

“you’re perfect.” the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. you can’t find your words quite yet so you lean forward and catch his lips in a heated kiss, not even caring about the taste of your own blood on his lips. when he softly sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, you push him down until he’s laying underneath you. the need to feel every inch of him consumes you as you move your hips over the bulge in his pants. he whines into your mouth and it only urges you on as you both start to undress. his hands roam over every inch of your body as you press kisses to his neck. you leave marks of your own down the expanse of his neck and shoulders. he stops you before you can move down his body any further, causing you to whine in protest but he shakes his head. 

“need to taste you, please love.” he says breathlessly. you stare at him a minute before you nod and move so that you’re sitting next to him. he gets up quickly and you switch your positions with you now underneath him. he trails his hands down your sides until they rest on your thighs, watching the way goosebumps raise in their wake. when he spreads your legs apart you understand what he meant by tasting you. your breath hitches as you watch him lower himself between your legs. he starts to kiss and bite at your thighs, leaving hickeys and bite marks, before he sinks his fangs in again. you gasp and arch off the bed, moaning his name loudly. he doesn’t stay there long, suckling at the bite and licking your blood off before moving and doing the same in your other thigh. when he’s satisfied, he moves to get a taste of the juices leaking from your pussy. licking a long stripe up from your entrance and then circling his tongue around your clit. you grip the sheets hard as you moan out and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. 

you let him consume you whole on that bed again and again until you're both completely spent.

tags : @onedoornet ||

[steal-this-idea]

That was pretty much my experience. I largely missed season 1 as I only really watched Babylon 5 because "nothing else was on"

I figured I didn't need "another Star Trek" in my life so I didn't really give it a chance but then I saw episodes like "Believers" (we groan now, but at the time, that ending was entirely unexpected and gave B5 some "cred" with me) and "A Quality of Mercy" and started to become intrigued

So I was aware of Sinclair and confused by him no longer being there but a fun little bonus was, since I never saw "Chrysalis" until TNT started rerunning all the episodes, the first time I ever saw the Shadow mantises was when Talia Winters vaguely saw them standing next to Morden and screamed

It had a much bigger impact on me than I think it would've had, had I seen "Chrysalis" first

But I still think it's okay to skip Season 1 for new viewers if you're not confident they'll have the patience to sit through the world-building of Season 1. Starting in Season 2 gives the show a more "in media res" feeling (if you're into that sort of thing)

folks who skipped s01 of babylon five will never truly get how funny the sinclair-sheridan transition really is.

like sinclair is a 6' tall man with kind brown eyes and a tragic backstory whose presence commands the room without him even saying anything. he solves diplomatic conflicts with a wave of his hand. he's so mysterious. he's larger than life. he's a reincarnated alien. the universe rests on his shoulders. what can't he do. sheridan rolls in bag full of shirts in cute colors, rambles about oranges, gives a speech to an empty deck, delegates negotiation duties to his least diplomatic staff member, who immediately starts a civil war (I'm sorry susan we love you but my god), gets locked out of his own flat. is he ok. can we put him on the heater to dry

[itsasilentreader]

ᯓ★ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 – 𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: idol!Hwang Hyunjin x reader, established relationship

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: Fluff

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 608

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: drinking wine, a long work week (lol)

𝘼/𝙉: I got inspired of my own life of the past few weeks. Ever since I have my new job, my bf has been doing small things to help me get back into a routine. He makes sure dinner is ready when I come home as my working hours are a little bit different than his and I just appreciate the small gestures so much.

⤷ 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬

⋮ 𝗠𝗮��𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After months of applying for jobs, facing rejections, and trying again, you finally found a job you liked. Within a week of applying, you got the position.

Now you were on your way home after finishing the last shift of your first week. Your feet ached, the pain creeping into your lower back, and tiredness settled in as the day drew to a close. After being out of a routine for so long, you needed time to adjust to the rhythm of work again.

Opening your front door, you noticed the lights in your apartment were already on. You couldn’t remember leaving them on before heading out this morning, which could only mean Hyunjin was here.

You quickly kicked off your shoes and hung your jacket on the coat rack by the door. Practically shuffling from the hallway into the living room, you winced with each step as your heels throbbed painfully.

As you reached the living room, you stopped in your tracks, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you took in the scene before you.

The room was softly lit by candles, and rose petals were scattered across the living room floor. On the coffee table was a plate prepared with your favorite food, and beside it, a bottle of wine waiting to be opened.

The TV was on, paused on the next episode of the K-drama you’d been watching.

“Hi, my love,” Hyunjin emerged from the small kitchen with another plate in his hands—his own, you assumed.

“Babe, what is all this?” you murmured, muffled by his embrace as he wrapped his free arm around you and pulled you close. Relaxing into his warm hold, the familiar scent of his cologne helped melt away your fatigue.

He gently rubbed your back, filling you with warmth. “I just wanted to surprise you after your first week back at work,” he said softly, a smile gracing his pretty lips. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and motioned for you to sit on the couch.

“Do you want to change first? I got your favorite sweats out of the dryer,” Hyunjin offered, setting his plate down next to yours on the coffee table.

You nodded before heading to the bedroom. Even after all this time together, the small gestures Hyunjin made still made your heart beat faster.

Once you changed into your sweatpants and took off your makeup, you returned to the living room to join him for dinner and the next episode.

Settling down next to Hyunjin on the couch, he poured some wine into your glass, handing it to you along with your plate.

“Thank you, baby,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile before leaning forward to press your lips to his in a tender, sweet kiss.

“I’d do anything for you, my love. I figured you’d want to relax after your first week back, and I wanted to help,” he replied, giving you another quick peck. His eyes crinkled into half-moons, his gentle smile mirroring yours.

Moments like these made you grateful to have someone as supportive and caring as Hyunjin in your life. He’d taken time out of his schedule, packed with recording sessions and dance practice, just to make sure you were comfortable and relaxed.

After dinner, Hyunjin loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and returned with a second glass of wine for you. “Tell me about your first week. How did it go?” he asked, brushing a stray hair from your face.

And as the two of you cuddled on the couch, sharing stories from your first week, you realized that sometimes, the best comfort is simply being home—with him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ⓒ︎ 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.

[taesnix]

BACK from the void to present to you: Nico, who wears the most absolutely ridiculous socks ever because no one can see them.

Gods, he has so many.

Most of them are thick and warm for maximum comfort, and they go up to just under his knees with the stupidest little things and patterns on them. For summer, he has an equally impressive collection of crew socks that are still thick enough to not get easily worn out, but don't make him sweat buckets trudging under the sun.

Nico knows that he'll forever be a collector at heart but it's not like he wanted to choose socks of all things as his next prized possessions. He didn't wake up one day and decide "man, these things are pretty great, let's go amass an army's worth of SOCKS!" It just happened. He had no control over that. They just feel nice, okay. And perhaps the colour combos and sheer variety of everything makes him happy.

Is it kind of embarrassing? Yeah. Would he cease to exist if anyone found out? Holy shit, maybe. But it's not like anyone has been able to tell underneath his daily go-to of heavy jeans and combat boots, so he's been in the clear so far.

Until he gets distracted for a split second while sparring with Percy and riptide cuts a huge slash across his leg.

Nico's fast, so he's able to jump back just enough so that the sword barely catches any flesh, but his jeans unfortunately don't come out unscathed.

"Keep your head in the game, Neeks!" Percy teases with a grin. He's got an annoying glint in his eye to match and Nico just knows he's about to say something worse. "No matter who walks in."

And—shit. Nico feels his face flush scarlet despite him screaming internally at his body to not react. He pointedly does not look at the new blob of neon scrubs sitting next to Kayla in the stands. "Shut up, Jackson. Like you're any better when Annabeth so much as blinks at you."

Percy shrugs. "Hey man, at least I acknowledge it."

And—fine, he does. Nico will give him that. Jackson was peak levels of embarrassing about his girlfriend on a good day.

"I think you should go get that patched up," Percy smirks. He then makes a big show of squinting at the stands, pulling a similar face that Jason makes trying to read highway signs without his glasses. Basically, he looks really fucking stupid. "Impeccable timing, too! Whaddya know? There seems to be a free medic right there."

One day, Nico will kill him. It'll fix almost all of his problems, and gods know he'll always have too many at any given point in time. But he'll do it. Maybe Annabeth will even take pity and give him a pass.

Before Nico can even open his mouth and retort with something snarky, Percy raises his hands and hollers. "Hey, Will! The King here is in need of some dire medical attention!"

"No, I'm not!" Nico shouts when Will's eyes grow wider. "Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Percy snorts and claps him on the shoulder. "As if that's worked before. Good luck, little man. Same time tomorrow?"

And he doesn't wait for a response, just gives a one-handed salute and begins to make his way to the stands. Percy says something to Will as they pass by each other and Will's brows furrow.

One day.

"What happened?" Will asks as he jogs over. His blond curls rise and fall with every step and if you zeroed in on only them, the loose coils look like they're in zero gravity. Bouncing with an impossible grace as they get closer and closer.

Not that Nico was looking. Or that he'd even noticed at all. Man, is it getting hotter here? He should definitely drink some water soon.

"Nico?" Will waves a slow hand in front of his face. "You alright? Percy said his sword mostly caught your jeans, but you never know."

"Huh?" Nico chokes. Right, this is the dire medical attention part.

Will gives him a wobbly smile, like he's trying not to laugh but failing miserably. "Okaaay then. Can I check your leg?"

"Um, sure."

He's still so out of it that he doesn't hear his subconscious screaming at him why Will kneeling down to lift the denim is a terrible, horrible idea.

Nico feels the lithe fingers carefully cut down the fabric with scissors that have seemingly appeared from nowhere. He feels them gently peel back his jeans with a confident precision, minimizing the disturbance to the wound. He hears the faintest of gasps and he feels the other boy go completely still.

He tilts his head down to see what the issue is—surely Percy hadn't slashed him that bad—and then, like a statue, he freezes in place too.

In the most obnoxious shade of yellow possible, rows of mischievous rubber ducks beam back at both of them. He says mischievous because they've got annoying smirks and eyebrows strong enough to rival the Stoll brothers on the first of April. Which is quite a concerning amount. The smallest flecks of red from his cut take the whole "sinister menaces" thing to an unholy level.

Neither of them breathe for the next 30 seconds. Or maybe it's 30 years. Hell, if Nico knows now, his damn heart stopped working properly ages ago.

Then, either his saving grace or the final nail in his coffin, Will sucks in another shaky mouthful of air and clears his throat.

"You know," he starts, scarily neutral. Not a single waver in his voice. "I'm beginning to think Kayla's got a point."

Kayla talks a lot, running through an average 5 conversation topics in a record of 7 minutes with Nico himself, so that narrows it down by exactly nothing. "Uh, about what?"

Will doesn't reply, simply carrying on with cleaning and dressing his injury like he hadn't said anything. It drives Nico crazy, but he knows Will's priorities, so he holds his tongue. Will had drilled them into Nico's brain during his first infirmary stay; treat first, talk second.

So he waits. He lets Will dab the tiniest bit of nectar across the cut and wipe away blood. After a minute or two, his leg is wrapped neatly with a bandage, and suddenly, there's no more treating to be done.

"We're matching," Will finally says.

Nico blinks. Because—what.

"I mean, it's a slightly different shade, but eh, close enough to count."

Nico breaks out of his stupor when Will traces one of the ducks with his nail. Soft but accurate, light but impossible to ignore, like everything else he does.

"Yellow?" Nico whispers. He can't seem to muster up his voice to be louder than that.

Will looks up at him with a particular glint in his eye, and Nico's heart stops a second time.

"Mhm," he grins, dusting his knees as he stands up. He winks and it has no right to kickstart the thumping in Nico's chest. "Same wavelength."

"You're ridiculous," Nico lightly shoves at Will's shoulder and prays that his face isn't burning red.

Will just laughs and catches his hand, holding it in place. "Sure, but I'm also right."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are n—"

"Okay," Will interrupts, "I hate to break it to you, Neeks, but we're both wearing obnoxious shades of yellow. You've got the added bonus of sly rubber duckies, and my scrubs glow in the dark. Ergo, we're both ridiculous and both on the same wavelength."

Gods, who the hell says, "ergo". Why is Nico so enamoured with such an idiot.

"And how, exactly, does Kayla have a point here?" Nico sighs, ignoring that his hand is still on Will's shoulder and that Will is still holding it there. He'll take his silent wins as they come.

Now, Will's cheeks become a rosy red. It makes Nico want to trace a finger around his freckles to check if his skin has become warmer, too.

"Well..." He trails off. He glances down to Nico's leg again, where some of the damn ducks are peeking out behind his jeans.

With a grounding deep breath, Will shuts his eyes for a moment. When they open, he meets Nico's gaze head on, calm yet confident once more.

He's beautiful like this, like he always is.

Against his own will, Nico smiles. Will shines underneath the sun and his stupid blond curls are golden.

"She said we're soulmates. And I think she's right about that."

And Nico thinks she's right about that, too.

[siolixz]

~Veils Of Crimson~

Chapter 4

Pairings: oz cobb x reader (Carmine Falcone's daughter)

<chapter 1> <chapter 2> <chapter 3>

Reader is a child of the circumstances she was raised in and Oz is still manipulative-I had to take a few breaks from writing this to walk around my house a lil bit-I think I have a pretty clear idea of where I wanna take this story going forward. You get to FUCK that old man! YES! Also, I am currently drawing Oz and 'reader' how I imagine her, can't wait to show yall. Next Chapter is gonna be up as soon as I see the new episode and I get virtually high with creativity.

I took my inspo from Driving Miss Falcone by (https://www.tumblr.com/genevievedarcygranger here on tumblr), check out the story if you can.

Enjoy, give feeback if u want ily xoxo.

Warnings: mature language, smut (oral sex, hair pulling, riding) violence, general horniness.

“WHERE ARE YOU”

You texted her back that you were out and perfectly fine-nothing to worry about, you apologized for not texting her in time as well. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Ok, so you didn’t text Sofia that you were gonna leave, so what? She’s not your parent. You just unfortunately forgot, in all the excitement of seeing Oswald, you ran out of the door, got in the car and disappeared.

With your heart beating out of your chest, you pressed the handle of the main entrance to the mansion and upon being greeted with the quietness of the estate at this late hour- you went into the kitchen to grab yourself a snack from one of the fridges there.

Where are those damn Milka sweets you brought back from Europe? Did someone eat them? If they did you were gonna-

“Sneaking inside at this late hour? How scandalous.”

“Jesus, Sofia, you HAVE to stop doing that-”

“Where were you?” she said, while stepping closer, cocking her head.

Alright, this was older sister Sofia speaking

“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t want to leave like that, It’s just that-I had some business I had to do, ok?” you said, hoping this lie would be sufficient

She didn’t look like she believed you, but she stopped asking any questions.

“While you were gone, I found a guy that's gonna help us with catching the rat in our family, once and for all.” -she didn't tell you anything about whatever she had planned

“A guy that’s gonna help us with finding the rat? That’s good. Great even.”

“Yeah, it is.” she looked down for a moment before taking a deep breath and coming closer “Listen, I think it would be best that you leave here a while, with everything that’s going on, I don’t want to lose you too-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. Who does she think she is? Sending you away like this “this is my home.”

“Yes, yes i know” she closed her eyes deep in thought and opened them before continuing “you are one of the most important people in this family and I know how hard it is to be sent away-but this time, believe me, it’s for your own good. I only want the best for you.”

“No, no. I can help Sofia, I know I can. Why didn’t you tell me about the detective? I could’ve come with you-”

“Listen, just listen. I love you, I want the best for you-”

“You believe imma hold you back. That’s it. So you want to send me away, like dad.” you started nodding, mostly to yourself. That was it, she didn’t want you around, like she didn’t even miss you. “We have an army of guards at the mansion, I could remain here until everything is resolve-”

“Your place isn’t in a power struggle between us and the Maronis, you know that.” Honestly, fuck her. She barely talked to you since coming home, you weren’t the little girl she once knew.

“Alright- I guess, let me know if you need anything. Good night” You started backing up while talking to her, you didn’t even want to see her

“Good night.” she said.

Today was your brother’s memorial service and everyone important was here. There was food and good drinks, ready to be served for everyone to remember and toast towards your brother’s life. You really missed him and hoped he was in a better place.

You talked to Carla and Gia-her daughter. Gia told you looked beautiful, like a princess.

Like a princess of death and despair probably, wearing all black.

You saw everyone’s head turn towards the only person that could pull their attention away from you-Sofia, who was currently shoving a fist full of pasta in her mouth.

Classy-just like you remembered.

You took this moment of ignorance and disappeared into one of the rooms near one of the staircases that lead downstairs for a moment of quietness, you wanted to browse the internet a bit- see if anyone took a picture of you with him.

You talked to Oz last night when you arrived home- he told you to call him when you did, he said that you two will see each other today, that he was sorry you had to leave so early and that he really enjoyed your date, he didn’t have that much fun in a long time.

What a sweet man you thought, last night he was incredibly gentle and you could get used to going out with him, being by his side. His big arms, his charisma- everything about that man left you wondering when you two would be alone again, maybe in a more intimate setting- god it felt like you were 19 again, daydreaming about riding him in the backseat of your Rolls Royce, the way his hands would hold you down, guide you down his-

“-I told you to come to me, not go behind my BACK!”

Your uncle Luca, accompanied by Sofia and Castillo were coming down the steps-rudely disturbing your dream.

When your uncle saw you, he pointed at you and asked “You dragged your little sister into this too?”

You looked at Sofia, then at Luca “What?”

“No, she doesn’t know anything.”

“Good, at least one of you listens.” Luca continued. Fuck was his deal? Did he find out about Sofia’s plan to find the rat?

They continued to go down, still talking. You decided you didn’t want to stick around to find out what they were doing so you left and found that every single door was closing? Ok, what the literal fuck is happening.

“Search everyone for weapons.”

You followed the voice and found some of the guards in a line, unfortunately the man you desired was also between them.

“Oz? What happened?” you said as you ran up to him, the sound of your manolo blahnik heels creating sharp clicks against the expensive floor.

His gaze softened when he saw you and before he could say anything one of your guards, spoke up next to him “Someone iced a Maroni in the basement.” Oh, so that’s why Sofia was rushing downstairs with Luca, yikes.

“The fuck. Fuck you!” Viti said, as he was roughly handled by a guard. This fucking asshole, you hoped it was him secretly.

Luca and Sofia joined everyone in the hallway and your uncle called out your name and ordered you to step back-you had to unfortunately, obey.

“Fuck you looking at?” You and Oz were both staring but he directed his words towards him. “It was you, wasn’t it?” What was he doing? “You sent us there to get massacred, what did the Maronis give ya’, huh?” accusing a member of the family like this isn't wise, Oz.

“Watch your fucking mouth you gimp.”

“Fuck your mother ya dirty rat!” Jesus Christ Oz. Before you knew it they literally jumped at each other's throat, well more like Oz went to punch him in the face and stomach.

It took two men to pull the much larger man off of Viti- you were too shocked to say anything. Why was he acting like this? Did Viti’s comment rile him up this bad? Johnny is a well known shit talker.

“One of you is a fucking traitor-feeding information to the fucking enemy, I will not tolerate that.” Luca said. You looked at your sister, her face didn’t move towards you.

As the guards searched the suspects- Castillo, Sofia’s personal bodyguard, was found to be the rat.

Shithead, you thought.

“Miss Falcone I swear to God, that is not mine.” he pleaded, what a liar. You glanced at Oz and he gave you a wink- you couldn’t wait for him to be let go and kiss him again, the thought alone gave you butterflies.

“You were there with him that night-you killed him.” Sofia’s words were full of anger- hate clear as day on her face

“I didn’t-I would never.” What a shitty excuse of a human being, lying like this, your brother didn’t deserve to die at his hands.

“Give me your gun.” Sofia said towards the guard holding Castillo. Was she gonna shoot him here, in the house? You saw Oz look at you.

“Sofia, please listen to me-”

“GIVE ME YOUR GUN”

“I would NEVER do this to you-”

Luca turned to you and told you to turn around and you tried to as quick as possible-covering your ears and jumping when hearing the gunshot, did she shoot him?

This sort of stuff-this shit should never, ever happen inside the house. You knew your sister wasn’t right in the head after coming back from Arkham, but this, this was not right.

With your heartbeat in your ears, you left as quick as you could, you didn’t wanna turn around and see a dead body- one who only seconds ago was living and breathing, a human being, who you knew-who pleaded for his life- he deserved to die but not to get shot like this, especially inside the house.

You heard Oz call out your name, but you didn’t stop-you had to get outside, you didn’t even know if you would want to sleep inside the house tonight-God your knees felt weak.

Was your sister really that brutal? Was that necessary? You felt tears form in your eyes.

“Doll-” you heard the door open and as you made eye contact with Oz your tears couldn’t stop, you didn’t even know WHY you were crying.

You certainly weren’t crying for Castillo’s life, he was a rat, this is how people like him deserve to go- you should not cry-it was probably from the shock of it all.

“I-i'm sorry” you said-trying to turn away from Oz, you didn’t want him to think you were a crybaby or something-you were holding your tears back as well as you could, before he grabbed you in his arms and then you were REALLY crying.

“What just happened?” you sobbed, this was horrible-this sort of thing would’ve never in a million years happen if your dad was alive.

Between Oz shushing you-telling you that you are going to be ok and running his hands along your back up and down you eventually calmed down.

“Are you better? Hm?” he didn’t let go of you -you nodded.

“Ye-yeah I’m better, thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to apologize for doll, you shouldn’t have seen or heard that shit, that’s not how things go.” he looked genuinely apologetic, like he shot him.

“What happened to the guy downstairs?”

“Castillo stabbed him in the chest.” he said, while glancing down momentarily

“Good God, what has this house come to? What kind of monster does such a thing?”

“Yeah nasty business, horrible really.”

“I don’t know if I can step inside again tonight, I don’t wanna sleep in there.” you hugged your arms to your chest, between your sister telling you to fuck off and then Castillo being shot, you didn’t want to go back inside “I’ll get myself a room at the Belle Monico”

“Yeah well, If you don’t want to spend the money you can crash at my place, if you want of course-”

“Really? You’d have me?”

“Of course.” he said, matter-of-factly “anything you need-you know you can call me.”

“Oz, imma need you to take care of this shitshow inside-” Viti didn’t open the front door wide enough to see that you were there too

“Yeah-yeah I’ll take care of them.” Oz gave him a dismissive wave, Jonny just shut the door as quick as he opened it “This bald motherfucker is giving me orders too now.” He looked at you, hoping you would laugh at his comment-and you did.

“Keep that smile, ok?’ while also smiling- Oz climbed down the steps to the main entrance. He turned towards you and continued “By 8 o’clock I’ll be done with all this shit and you can drop by-I’ll text you my address. In the meantime, go away from the estate, go shopping or something, I know that it will make you feel better, ok?” you nodded from the top of the stairs “No MORE crying, you got that?” he pointed a finger at you.

“Alright.” you said “see ya.” The smile he left you with didn’t disappear and as you called your driver to come outside and grab your bag, you were already thinking about what underwear to wear tonight.

The excitement bubbling inside you was undeniable and as you listened to music in the backseat of the mercedes you were getting driven in it was hard not to let your mind wander, first time you were gonna be over at Oswald’s house, just you and him, all thoughts of the gruesome spectacle that happened today at your mansion disappeared-all replaced by the familiar excitement you always had before seeing him.

This time, however, it was going to be different. You were sure that if you didn’t get to feel him on top of you, you might actually pass away tomorrow.

As your driver pulled up into the Diamond District your stomach knotted with nerves, you were a few blocks down from Oz’s place-you tried to distract yourself from all the emotions and looked outside, you might’ve been in one of these shops in the past- even if they looked a bit shitty.

“I’m waiting for you, climb up the staircase when you get in, I’ll open the door.” he texted you

OK, you were really doing this- you scooted back in the driver’s seat and took a deep breath- you put your phone on mute, Sofia didn’t answer your call when you left so screw her.

The woman that just kissed his boss on the cheek might’ve been the most put together person he ever saw in his life. She looked like she belonged in a magazine, with perfect manicured nails, beautiful hair and gorgeous bright teeth that were shown to him as she smiled-introducing herself.

Words didn’t register in his head, too blinded by this strange creature that just waltzed in like it was noth- Falcone?

He told him about her, after the failed drug transport “a woman like that kid whew -don’t think you ever saw someone as beautiful” he paused “ she don’t hang around with just any schmuck, you gotta provide a level of security-of money-I promised myself, I’d get her on my arm one day one way or another.”

This was the sister of ‘The Hangman’ shi-

“Cat got your tongue or you’re gonna leave the girl hanging like this?” Oz said and chuckled, but the jolly behavior didn’t reach his boss eyes, it sounded more like a threat to Victor “Hhey I’m V-victor.” the nerves he felt were clearly evident- poor kid you thought.

“You must be Oz’s driver, nice to meet you.” sadly, you weren’t alone with him “Nice place you got” you said, walking around a bit.

“Vic, go get us some food- doll, you have a preference for anything?”

“No, whatever you say it’s best.”

As Oz instructed Vic where to go, you looked around his place.

It was cozy, you liked it. There was a picture frame with the history of this place- this is where they made the jewels you saw outside- well some of them. That’s cool, also Oz bedroom had these big ass doors, they looked like they were made to hide money.

As Vic left the apartment you looked outside, the big concrete buildings were a stark contrast to the gorgeous scenery you were used to.

“What d’you want to drink? Got some wine, or the strong stuff—whiskey, scotch.” He gave you a half-smile, pouring himself a glass. “But I’m guessing that ain’t your thing.”

“Water’s fine-”

He raised an eyebrow, scoffing lightly. “Nah, c’mon. After the crap you went through today? You deserve better.” Before you could protest, he poured a glass of red wine and handed it to you. “Trust me, this one’s better than what they had back at the restaurant.”

You took a sip as he sat down next to you. He was right, it was much better than the one at the restaurant.

“Guess it’s just… everything that happened today,” you said, a bit quieter. “What if they come after me next?”

He set his glass down, leaning in close. “Listen, doll…” His voice dropped, low and rough as he placed his hand on your knee. You tried to ignore the way his big hands on your leg made you feel. “You’re safe here. No one’s coming for you in this place. I got that covered.” He watched you carefully, making sure you heard every word. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right? You don’t gotta worry ‘bout a damn thing here.” he leaned closer to your face- trying to make eye contact as you gazed at the floor and then back up at him.

His hand stayed on your knee, warm and steady, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken. He wasn’t usually this serious, this protective—and it felt comforting. Comfort that you haven’t felt in a very, very long time

“You sure I’m not in the way here, Oz?” his hand tightened just slightly on your knee and his thumb traced circles on your leg

“Stop it with that. You ain’t ‘in the way,’ alright?” He leaned back, looking off for a second before muttering, “Fuck… when you left, I felt like shit..”

You reached over, brushing your hand against his. “It’s alright, Sofia’s back now; that’s what’s important.”

He huffed, giving you a crooked grin and a full image of his golden teeth “Yeah, sure. But it ain’t just Sofia.” His voice softened, though his hand stayed firm on your knee, possessive, like he didn’t want you going anywhere. “You mean a lot more to me than you think, i'm not gonna let you walk outta here that easily.”

You smiled at him and before you could respond, he closed the distance between the two of you with his mouth on yours with a hungry, possessive force.

The taste of whiskey and warmth flooded over you as he deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding up your back, pulling you in close. When he finally pulled back, his gaze lingered on your face, his hands tucked a stray hair next to your face behind your ear. The deep brown of his eyes had such a warmth to them, like crackling firewood-so gorgeous and full of passion.

“C’mere,” he murmured, his hands guiding you over him. He shifted on the couch, pulling you into his lap until you straddled him, his hands steady on your waist. His touch was possessive, yet gentle as his fingers traced along your hips, holding you there. “Forget all that other crap, it's just you and me, okay?” he said when you were on top of him

The feel of him beneath you, this bull of a man- so dangerous yet so soft towards you, so gentle- you alone could make him feel like this and that thought sent a thrill through you as his hands settled on your back, pulling you in closer.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his lips warm and slow as he leaned into you. The heat between you grew as his hands slipped beneath your shirt tracing your waist and back, his fingers gripping harder into you with each kiss. You felt his hand move from underneath your shirt to slide up, fingers tangling in your hair, gently tugging you closer as his mouth started to press open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“You’re where you should be, right here with me” he murmured against your skin, his voice so low you thought your ears and cheeks would light on fire from the heat rushing towards them- the way he enveloped you fully-the lingering whisper of tobacco on his collar, blended with the whiskey on his tongue was making you moan all on its own-the way his hands helped you grind down on him- like he’d been waiting for this.

“Oz please” you didn’t exactly know why you were saying please for, just that you wanted him to do ‘something’ .

He placed you with your back on the couch, still kissing you and he lifted your shirt just high enough to grab hold of your jeans. “Take this shit off” he roughly grabbed your jeans zipper and pulled you down a little bit by his movement, barely getting them off and when he did- those stupid skinny jeans stopped at your knees and in his urgency left them there- while also ignoring the very expensive pair of panties who you just bought TODAY.

He didn't even look at them and with one hand under your ass, pulling you closer to his face -he started to press kisses on your ass and near your pussy.

In all this rush, you couldn’t even think straight. With one hand he almost folded you in half and with the other he was pulling you closer to him. You couldn’t believe this was happening- giggling a little bit and moaning- you grabbed your pants and finally pulled them off- tossing them somewhere in the apartment.

You opened your legs to give him space. You felt goosebumps rising on your skin and grabbed his head when he started to lick your clit- placing a hand on your mouth didn't do too much to stop the sounds you were making, but at least you were trying.

His hands went below your shirt, on your tits and he groaned when he got to them-the sound sending a very pleasant vibration to your most sensitive place and making you moan even harder.

One of his hands remained on your breast, massaging it and with his other hand he put his finger inside, you thought that you might actually come from that alone, the way his much bigger finger felt inside of you-a familiar heat started pooling in your stomach-you closed your eyes-trying to not let go of this feeling, “please Oz” you sounded so pathetic, whispering like that.

Oswald didn’t even respond to you, just started pushing his fingers even deeper inside, the feeling of having his tongue touch you repeatedly where you only touched with a finger, maybe two- was the most euphoric thing you ever experienced and the way his fingers would push up like that-”Oh my god” you breathed out, gripping your mouth- your legs wrapped around his head and you moved your hips, trying to get to feel him as much as you could.

While he switched from sucking your clit to rubbing circles with his tongue on your bud, his hands were keeping themselves busy with your nipples- just peeking over your almost pulled down bra from underneath your shirt. This was too much. “I’m gonna-” You don’t think you ever experienced an orgasm like that before, your belly was almost aching by the end, the way you moved against his face made you feel almost sorry, almost.

“Look what you did” Oz turned his body to the side and got up to sit on his ass on the couch- his erection evident in his suit. You got up as well, sipped some of your wine- god that was good, your heartbeat hasn’t slowed down since he grinded you on his cock but now all your nerves were overshadowed by blind confidence that only a woman as young and as beautiful as you could possess when you tossed your top and bra next to you and kissed him as hard as you could, before going down on your hands and knees before him.

“There she is.” he said, smiling-while you were preoccupied with freeing his penis from his pants, you started to pepper light kisses up and down his length, from his uncut head down towards his balls.

He groaned as he slipped off his suspenders and unbuttoned his shirt, giving you a tease of the hair on his chest. He grabbed hold of your hair from this position and you were thinking you were ready for another round by the way you pussy clenched when he did that- with his brows furrowed he guided you to his cock. Ok, so no kisses? Straight to business.

“Can’t even imagine how much I’ve been waiting for this.” as your lips covered the head of his shaft- you tried not to choke as he guided you up and down him. One of your hands went straight for his penis as well to help you- while the other was slowly tracing circles on your still sensitive clit.

“Just like that baby” he groaned and you could see him hold himself back-with one hand he was holding your head and with the other he touched your face- the cold metal of his rings and his gold bracelet as it touched your upper back sent shivers down your spine and you were sure you jumped a little when it came in contact with your hot skin. You tried to breathe as much as you could through your nose, your hand helping you take care of all of him. He unzipped his pants even more, giving you more access to him, his penis wasn’t that long but it was thick, god you wondered how good it must feel inside.

He pulled you off of him to give you room to breathe a little bit and he kissed you again before putting your head on his cock again, his groans and the sounds that your mouth on his shaft made were the only sound in the living room- whenever a moan would leave you, he groaned and pushed your head even deeper down him, almost making your nose touch the dark hair there. Up and down and then again, his cock was fully drenched in a mix of your saliva and his precum- you felt tears well up in your eyes.

He gave a quick inhale before he pulled you off of him and grabbed your body to straddle him once again.

“You’re so beautiful” he said before lifting your hips to touch the head of his penis, you kissed him as he grabbed your tits in his hands and you both moaned in each other’s mouth as you took him.

It did feel really good to have him inside you like this, his forehead had a sheer layer of sweat on it- his eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure.

“Oh, that’s good” he pulled you completely down him and it felt like he reached your belly in this position, Oz grabbed your feet and put them in a squat on either side of him before he helped you get a rhythm- you put your arms on either side of his head, palms touching the back of the couch.

Now, you were definitely sure the neighbors and everyone else in the building could hear you, especially because he started to bounce you up and down his cock like you were riding a horse and the horse was galloping too.

“You like that baby?” he asked you, grinning.

“Yes yes” Whenever his hands would bring you down him, your sensitive clit would touch him again and again- you couldn’t even imagine this being as good as it was.

He grabbed both of your ass cheeks from this position and moved you back and forth him-whenever he would bring you forward his dick would brush up against your g-spot, were you really gonna cum again?

“Fuck-I’m gonna cum” he muttered in your mouth, before his movements lost their rhythm and he pulled his cock just in time to spill himself all over the lower part your back.

You both stayed there for a few moments, breathing like you just ran a marathon.

He cleaned you up with a towel shortly after.

While inside the shower, with the warm water running down your back, realization finally dawned on you- you just made love to the man who you were having wet dreams about since your dad hired him as your driver.

You were butt ass naked riding this man in his living room, while his own driver had to be back with the food, it’s been about 30 minutes, where could this kid have gone to?

After you were done with the shower, you patted yourself dry a little bit and went inside the bedroom, Oz giving you a light smack on your butt as you walked past him to get dressed in the pjs you got for yourself to wear tonight. When you heard the shower starting, you left to get yourself a bottle of water from the fridge and went back to the bedroom to check your phone.

Sofia hasn’t texted you, obviously-she’s too busy with her great plans of taking over the family as the reigning matriarch-

Whatever, stop thinking about her.

After Oz’s driver, Victor, you think, came back- you guys ate some pizza and went to bed. Conversion over dinner was short, just a few “it’s good no?” and “Gosh the weather is starting to be very cold” from Oz and you and Victor being a mute. Surprisingly his driver slept in Oz’s apartment too- on the couch, on which you fucked his boss, yikes.

Oz’s sheets were satin -of course they were, and as he climbed in bed next to you and pulled you closer to him, he said something about your sister coming over tomorrow that you guys had to get your rest- right after saying your ‘good night’- you fell asleep.

Authors note: This smut scene is only the start, idk if you picked up but I still tried to make Oz seem as if he was in a power trip, the hair pulling his smooth talking etc etc. He does love her, dont worry. Anyways thank uuuu for reading, I tried to make it good :))))).

[flightfoot]

Any fic recs of Adrien dealing with the fallout of finding out his dad is hawkmoth?

Oh yeah, this is a popular plotline and tends to lead to some great fics!

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Bubblegum Soul by @wehadabondingmoment

"The impulse to throw away his ring, to slam it on the ground and watch its metallic splinters chap away at his soul, got more tempting by the second. Maybe, for a moment, he would learn what it meant to be alive." (Or: Hawk Moth has been defeated and Adrien is suffering more than ever. Armed with unhealthy coping mechanisms and the knowledge that he apparently isn't human, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery.) (Except that his father isn't quite ready to give up just yet.)

Poor Adrien. His father's defeated, but that doesn't mean that he's alright. Dealing with finding out that he's a sentimonster via his father attempting to order him around... that's harsh.

And it doesn't help that while he gets one ring back pretty quickly, he doesn't realize that he has a second amok...

If you like angsty sentiadrien fic, this'll be right up your alley! It's M-rated, but I'm not sure why. Maybe because Adrien's just kind of in a bad headspace?

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Disintegrated Pancakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Adrien had started expecting the family breakfasts. He had NOT been expecting his father to collapse in the middle of one.

I’m shocked I haven’t seen more of this sort of thing, with Adrien finding out his father’s Monarch via seeing the Cataclysm wound. I love that Alya gets involved in this, being the person Adrien runs into after fleeing the room, and then Adrien getting to talk things out with Gabriel and Nathalie. Thankfully Gabriel is at least not completely incapable of being reasoned with here, or things could have gone worse than they did. It’s a nice little read, though with an ambiguous ending (at least at the time when I write this).

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all of your flaws and all of my flaws (are laid out one-by-one) by @coffeebanana

Ladybug and Marinette have both been acting strangely since Monarch’s defeat, and Chat Noir would give anything to know why—to be able to help them. He just…didn’t expect his answers to come when Ladybug drags him to his father’s statue in the middle of the night along with a bag full of spray paint.

If you felt unsatisfied with Adrien being left in the dark about Monarch, with Ladybug lying about Gabriel being a hero, this is a great fic to read. Marinette’s breaking down keeping this secret, seeing people treat Gabriel as the hero she told people he was, until she finally snaps and has to do SOMETHING, has to tell SOMEONE the truth. 

Which Chat takes pretty well! He knows how persuasive his father could be, and he’s mostly just relieved at finally hearing someone say that Gabriel wasn’t a hero. It’s still a lot to cope with though.

---

Of Crisp Days and Crispier Cakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Gabriel wants to not be sick. Adrien wants to make a cake. Nathalie wants a chill birthday. Maybe they can help each other. Maybe it’ll be a disaster.

So this starts off as just the cute fluff fic of Adrien and Gabriel attempting to make Nathalie a birthday cake that the summary indicates, but soon evolves into a more action-filled drama fic when Gabriel makes the terrible decision to akumatize a cashier while sick… a cashier who happens to be in the same shop as Nathalie and Adrien. Who are willing to put their secret identities at risk in order to save each other.

---

After Irritation Do Us Start by @scribeofrhapsody

It was the most difficult decision of his life, but Gabriel did it. He let go of Hawk Moth. He moved on from Emilie. Now, all he wants is to enjoy life with his son and new wife. Unfortunately, a certain nephew of his seems to be determined to unearth what Gabriel needs to remain buried.

I love this look at what could have happened if during the season 3 finale, Gabriel had decided enough was enough and given up on being a supervillain, moving on with Nathalie instead. How much better things could have been if he’d just decided to stop - though Adrien still wouldn’t be happy to discover why Hawk Moth had suddenly stopped attacking.

Oh yeah, there’s an OC here called Gerald who Adrien’s puzzled by, since he’d never heard of this guy before the past year. At the end of the story you find out why he’s included in the story. It’s not a major thing, but it is kind of funny and fits well with the rest of the story.

---

Family by @unecoccinellenoire

“You know,” Nino grins, “if you need advice on being a big brother in a year or two I’m sure I could help.” The bottom of Adrien’s stomach dropped out. — Adrien struggles with the concept of his father and Nathalie having children.

So this is a world where Adrien and Marinette managed to defeat Gabriel, taking his Miraculous, with them giving him an ultimatum: they won’t out him as being Hawk Moth so long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble and does right by Adrien. Gabriel does, in fact, move on finally to Nathalie, giving Adrien a lot of mixed feelings to deal with. He still loves them both despite everything, but he’s also angry at them and he definitely does NOT want them to have children, both because he thinks they’d like any biological child they had more (he’s also harboring guilt from indirectly being the cause of his mom’s death), and because frankly, they screwed up too much with Adrien for him to want them to inflict that on another child.

And then there’s also Adrien dealing with the realization that he’s a Senti on top of that and wondering why he and Felix look the way they do, what Emilie’s reasons were.

It’s mostly just Adrien getting to talk things out, navigating this emotionally fraught situation he finds himself in now that the dust is settled.

----

and I thought I heard you sing by @into-september

When Hawkmoth has been defeated and unmasked, Marinette is left with two problems and no solutions. First, that Adrien is further out of her reach than ever before, and no-one can tell her how to get to him. Second, that Cat Noir is far more troubled than she knew, and the only thing she can do is wait for him at the place they agreed to meet.

It’s your classic “Hawkmoth’s defeated and taken into custody but that means Adrien’s in for a rough time” sort of fic. Everyone’s worried about Adrien and wants to give him what comfort and support that they can, but he’s being hidden away from everyone (which I mean, honestly that’s a good move), so that’s not really possible. Plus, Ladybug’s noticed that Chat’s having a tough time in his civilian life, which worries her.

---

If only I could break free by megetstoread

It started with Adrien being upset about going away, but led to a lot of revelations.  

Another Sentiadrien fic here! After telling Adrien that he’s being sent to London, Gabriel takes advantage of Adrien being distraught to akumatize him. Luckily Ladybug’s right there and deakumatizes him before he can even do anything, but it shakes both her and Chat, leading to her allowing him to tell her a lot more about his home life than usual, and for her and Adrien to investigate to see whether there might be more to Adrien’s inability to stand against his father than just psychological abuse.

---

The Parable of the Caller by @nemaliwrites

A week after Hawk Moth’s identity has been revealed, Adrien finds himself with nowhere to go, nothing he can do, and worst of all, strange gaps in his memory he can’t explain. In a stroke of luck, he stumbles upon a burner phone filled with voicemails from one of the Saviors of Paris: Chat Noir himself, who disappeared following Hawk Moth’s arrest.

But with each new voicemail Adrien listens to, he’s forced to confront the fact that there might be some kind of connection between himself and Chat Noir — and discovering it might leave him more broken than before.

I absolutely adore this fic, it’s a fantastic character study for Adrien! Basically in this universe, Ladybug and Chat Noir talked about who should be Guardian, with Chat eventually convincing her that he should be the one to take it on, primarily due to the whole “the Guardian gets amnesia about Miraculous-related matters” situation, and wanting to protect Ladybug from that. Then he finds out Gabriel is Hawk Moth, they take him down, and he relinquishes the Miracle Box and his guardianship to Su Han - all without having a Reveal with Ladybug, since well, he’s not in the greatest shape mentally at the time.

It’s a real treat to see Adrien’s thoughts and feelings about one of the Heroes of Paris leaving him all these voicemails, treating him like this close friend for reasons he doesn’t understand, and just seeing Chat Noir as this outside person. He’s got a very different viewpoint on Chat when looking from the outside than he would from the inside, with being able to see his heroic and good qualities far more easily when he doesn’t know that he is Chat.

Also Marinette’s struggling in the background of the fic with the loss of her partner and guilt over sending Adrien’s father to prison. It gets touched on at various points, and you can tell that she’s having her own story off to the side that we’re just not entirely privy to, what with this tale being told entirely from Adrien’s perspective.

---

drowning (in plain sight) by @buggachat

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

I’m sure everyone saw this one coming. If there’s one thing buggachat’s good at, storywise, it’s capturing raw, tumultuous emotions, frantic breakdowns as the characters desperately try to navigate bad situations. This was a real treat to read, as I’m betting most people reading this will agree, given just how popular the fic has been. It also has a ton of fanart, both by buggachat and by random fans, if you go looking for it (there’s a drowning in plain sight tag which I’d advise perusing). 

---

Not a Monster at All by @book-sandwich

Adrien Agreste overhears a conversation he shouldn't, and a revelation sends him falling onto the terrace of the only person he can trust: his good friend (?) Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Takes place sometime after the first two episodes of season 5!

As you can probably guess from the title, this is a Sentimonster Adrien, Monarch takedown fic. Adrien’s going through a tough time, and Marinette’s just trying to be there for him as his whole world’s collapsing around him. Unfrotunately, they still don’t know what the object is, or how likely Gabriel would be to control Adrien if he hinted that he knew the truth, which leaves Adrien in a precarious position - still not having done an identity reveal doesn’t help matters.

It’s a really solid fic for the genre, though since it started up before the later parts of season 5, there are a few things that don’t match up with the canon information we obtained later on. 

---

Under Oath by @eoscenes

In the aftermath of Hawk Moth's defeat, Ladybug finds her heart torn between her schoolgirl crush and her superhero partner ― who returns, after an unexplained hiatus, more irresistible than ever.

⋆☆⋆

Gabriel Agreste is unmasked, and Paris rises up in the aftermath.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng must weather Paris' anxious protesters, ravenous reporters, a scattered team of judiciary investigators, and her conflicting feelings for two different boys. In the eye of this storm is the elusive Adrien Agreste, the primary witness in his own father's trial, who might just hold the secret to finding the Peacock Miraculous.

(If only she wasn't in love with him.)

Meanwhile, locked away in Le Grand Paris hotel, Adrien grapples with his responsibilities to a city that can't decide if it hates or loves him. Keeping his daytime persona and Chat Noir separate entities becomes even harder when Ladybug, whom he has finally decided to get over, starts visiting him at night, determined to figure his secrets out.

(If only he wasn't in love with her.)

When an unknown figure returns with the Peacock Miraculous, Ladybug and Chat Noir will have to save their city once more — or lose each other trying.

I love how this fic shows Adrien just breaking down over the reveal of Hawk Moth’s identity, he’s in a Very Bad Place for a substantial portion of the fic, and being a suspect and witness in the case does NOT help. It’s got the most detailed “Adrien suffering the consequences of the backlash to his father’s prosecution” plot that I’ve seen.

Still, things get better with time, slowly, gradually. It’s not all at once, or a completely linear road, but he’s got his friends, even after everything.

---

run boy run by Anonymous

Nino was sprawled on the floor of his room with Alya when his phone chimed, in the quiet of a premature autumnal sunset. It was one of those lazy evenings that had become rare lately. Contrary to popular belief, he and Alya could get studying done when in the same room, and he was elbows-deep in late assignments, which meant his phone was on Do Not Disturb, which meant the notification could only have come from one person. ADRIEN 🐈: cmoe ove rnow ADRIEN 🐈: like riggt now ADRIEN 🐈: plag NINO: that is literally incomprehensible NINO: wait is that you plagg ADRIEN 🐈: mov faster

So this is a “Adrien finds out that his father is Hawkmoth and consults with Nino about what to do” fic, with Nino throwing Hawkmoth off Adrien’s track, though inadvertently at his own expense. Love Nino’s perspective here, and I always enjoy a good Hawkmoth-takedown fic!

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When the Morning Comes by @into-september

Gabriel Agreste has been unmasked as Hawkmoth, and the girl who was fighting him all these years turns out to be Tom Dupain's daughter. And standing between them is Adrien Agreste with his life in shatters that Tom Dupain has no way of piecing together. But baking is at least a place to start.

I love how this not only digs into Adrien’s character, but Tom’s as well, especially how both of them have been estranged from their fathers. I haven’t seen that come up much.

---

missing person (at the window) by @coffeebanana

Adrien expected to spend another night staring at the ceiling and ignoring his friends' messages, as he'd done every night since his father was unmasked as Shadow Moth. But when Ladybug falls through his bedroom window, he gets a little more than he bargained for.

---

This Distance Between Us by @coffeebanana

After defeating Monarch, the search for the Peacock Miraculous brings Ladybug and Chat Noir to a hotel room in London. But it's hard to enjoy the victory when Ladybug can't figure out why Chat's been so quiet, why he seems so sad. How's she supposed to help if she has no idea what's wrong?

This is a great Sentiadrien fic, with Chat freaking out about it and feeling like he’s not worthy of Ladybug’s affections, but not telling her what’s actually wrong because he thinks she won’t want him anymore if she knows. Of course, he’s wrong about that. Also there’s a pretty intense confrontation with Felix, pissing Chat Noir off is a bad idea.

---

Waiting series by @11jj11

First fic: Waiting

Every night Ladybug sat atop the Eiffel Tower, waiting for her partner.

---

Temporary Place To Stay by walkingonthestars

Caline Bustier hears the news. Caline Bustier worries about her student, whose father has just been exposed as Hawk Moth and arrested. Caline Bustier impulsively takes in said student. Caline Bustier does not know the half of what she's just gotten into.

[crackersandjuice]

the fic is not ficcing so i offer up the opening scene for a little pvpciv au thingy i'm trying to write

HEADS UP: This does contain gore. I don't think it's terribly graphic but the masses deserve to be informed o7

The first time Evbo watches his body stitch together, he wants to throw up.

He doesn’t, mainly because he doesn’t want to get in trouble for doing so. But he’s also wearing his new clothes. Covering them in vomit isn’t exactly how he should break them in.

Evbo curls his hands into his lap.

He’s kinda pretty, in a fucked up “pinned butterfly” way. The recording takes place in his own room, and he’s splayed out on his bed, starfished to keep his limbs from interfering with the process. Whoever placed him there stripped him naked, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He understands why. Sometimes, things got morphed into his body while it fixed itself, and that’s always more trouble than it’s worth. But still. He hates how he looks. He doesn’t like waking up naked, cold and alone and vulnerable. He hates how his corpse is treated so gently.

Especially considering how gruesome this particular death was. Evbo’s never liked being disemboweled. It messes up his stomach when he comes back, makes his digestive track all kinds of weird. Not to mention the other thing.

His entrails have been placed neatly at the sides of his, quite frankly, rather impressive vivisection. Clearly whoever was in charge of his respawn this time knows their anatomy. Every organ that he can recognize is where it’s supposed to be. The other ones, the ones that have been mutilated beyond belief, are shoved off to the sides.

He’s like a really big meat salad. Gross. Evbo swallows. Don’t think about it.

Eventually, the process starts. His organs start slithering around, putting themselves back into place. The unidentifiable ones piece themselves together, lines of separation disappearing as if they were never there. If there was sound, he can imagine what it’d sound like.

Wet. Squishy. Revolting.

Once the organs are back in place, the few broken ribs he had fix themselves too. Then his fat and muscles pull together, like an invisible string is holding them closed. He imagines what it’d feel like. His skin crawls as his corpse’s skin stitches itself together, too.

No, he very much does not want to find out how it’d feel.

There’s a hand on his chin, and Evbo lets his head be directed away from the screen. “What do you think?” The man asks. “It’ll be fun, right? Having it be televised?”

He’s heard the elevator pitch. People get their fix from watching this, and he gets to take longer breaks. It’s better than what usually happens. And he’s been feeling so tired lately.

Evbo’s eyelids flutter. “I…” He hesitates. The grip on his chin tightens.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it.” The man smiles. His teeth are still slightly stained, sharp and jagged. Good for breaking skin.

“Okay,” Evbo agrees. He’s going to say yes eventually. He knows that. The man knows that. This is nothing more than a waiting game.

Until the game is done, Evbo can cling to his selfishness a bit longer.

[fuck-customers]

This was a couple of decades ago when I worked in sales, let’s say for an electronics company or appliance company or something similar to that. We had an older gentleman come in and he wanted to buy some high end stuff and quite a bit of it, so we were more than willing to help him out. Things started getting out of hand with him pretty quickly though. He was starting to demand that during the delivery and installation we would do stuff above and beyond what we could do because what he was asking for was against corporate policy. When we started to explain some of this to him he was all “You don’t know who I am, do you?” and he started to tell us that he used to be the ceo of a global company that I’ll leave unnamed. Think something big like energy, tech, or media. A company that has products in almost every household. He was telling us how corporate policies are all about lawyers and accountants and he doesn’t give a damn about that kind of stuff. If anything went wrong he wouldn’t hold anyone accountable and we could take him for his word. He said he used to make multimillion dollar deals on the golf course or over dinner with nothing more than handshakes and promises of phone calls over the next week to further hash things out.

We all thought this man was full of shit but he was willing to spend a lot of money, so we just let him keep on talking while we figured out ways to talk him down from his unrealistic expectations. It felt like a hostage negotiation. From time to time he would go on tangents and give us his “insider knowledge” about this company or that. It was all far from insider knowledge. It was everyday stuff that could easily be learned by reading Forbes or The Wall Street Journal.

I was the main salesperson and his first point of contact so I talked to him the most. He talked foul and looked completely disheveled. Everything about him and the whole interaction was the exact opposite of the types of corporate businessmen I was used to dealing with. I was starting to think we were getting conned. After about two long and painful hours the sale was completed and payments went through, much to my surprise. While a lot of equipment needed to be delivered, I volunteered to load the stuff we had on hand into his car. When we got out to the parking lot I saw that his car was a busted up and rusted out relic from the mid ‘80s. I thought that there was no way an ex-ceo of a global company would be driving something so crappy. I was convinced that he was just taking us for a ride for God know’s what reason.

When I got home from work that night I googled his name. Lo and behold there he was with photographs and articles. Tons of them. Not only was he who he said he was, he actually downplayed his career. I printed out some of the articles to take into work the next day. My boss, my coworkers, and I went over them, just dumb struck. We just couldn’t believe it. This complete asshole was exactly who he said he was. We ended up calling the installers to give them a heads up and warn them that they were probably be going to deal with one of the most difficult customers they’d see that year.

We never saw him again. On the one hand we were happy because none of us wanted to deal with him again. On the other hand we were kind of disappointed. He spent money without even trying.

I believed he was who he said he was before you said you looked him up.

The really rich people (worth billions) will drive a thirty year old car, wear clothes decades out of date, and expect a lot of things "extra" on everything they do buy. That's how they stay rich. The CEO of our company is still using a flip phone and came to our meeting (when I was still in corporate) in jeans and a t-shirt. And that dude is worth billions.

The showoff's (flashy car, new phone/bag/shoes) either are millionaires that will not be rich their whole life. Or celebrities/influencer's that need to have that image of wealth.

At least that's my experience in retail corporate and working security for the mouse.

-Rodney

[chocodile]

Some new OCs with cars to complete the set I made in 2019!

Explanations under the cut.

Young Hyden - 1975 Lamborghini Countach

He would want some sort of luxury sports car. I mean, he'd have to have one. What else could he possibly drive but something loud, flashy, expensive, and oozing with ego and sex appeal?

He couldn't decide between "Cocaine Binge" orange or "Satanic Panic" black so he bought one of each. He alternates between them while the other is in the shop due to either the consequences of his own bad driving or general luxury car malaise.

Unfortunately, the Countach is three and a half feet tall while Hyden is just over seven feet tall. Even with custom seats to accommodate his height, it's not a comfortable driving experience. Luckily for him, the choice to give up his stupid sports cars to spare his aching knees is made for him when he totals one of them in a particularly bad accident and gets his license suspended.

Old Hyden - 1994 Bentley Dominator

It's now the mid 90s and Hyden is older, fatter, and more arthritic. Pickings are pretty slim for a rich man who simply does not fit in a small vehicle. I mean, there are options, but not a lot among the luxury brands, which means those options might as well not exist at all. The SUV boom was still in its infancy and the Bentley Bentayga and Rolls-Royce Cullinan, two other cars I considered for him, would not exist for another decade or a few.

In 1994, in the real world, Bentley made six huge gas-guzzling bricks for the Sultan of Brunei. These luxury car-slabs cost £3,000,000 a pop. In my fictional OC world, Hyden has #7. Or at least would have a similar custom luxury SUV with a similar price tag.

He no longer drives, citing his growing list of illnesses as the reason (No mention of his suspended license). Other drivers on the road breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, that's what chauffeurs are for.

Alternate car: This funny little bunny car toy I bought. Isn't it great?

Alex & Ridge - 1996 Ural Tourist

Instead of a car, Alex gets a motorcycle to symbolize her death wish… and also for other reasons, but that's the main reason.

A practical old thing. It's broken down a million times but she and Ridge always manage to revive it. She appreciates its ability to determinedly haul ass through rugged terrain and the fact that she can carry stuff using the sidecar. Ridge appreciates that sometimes he is the thing that gets carried around in the side car. He is also responsible for the shark face on it. :o)

…He drives it too, of course. He's a perfectly good, reasonable driver. Alex is just kind of a control freak about it. She is one of those people who grits her teeth and presses her foot into the passenger seat floor any time she's riding shotgun. It's easier to just let her be the driver.

They bought it together and drive it all over Europe doing whatever odd shady jobs they do in a modern setting. Alex craves one of those snazzy hyper-durable Japanese motorcycles, but cannot afford one. Maybe someday… Ridge isn't so sure about that kind of change. The bike still works as long as you fix it constantly, so what’s the problem? Plus, he'd be sad to see the shark face go.