#because I knew she would chew them

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Left out the plastic sleeve the vinyl protectors came in as a decoy for Nancy and it worked!

[best-enemies]

I've reached season 5 on my CSI rewatch and I'm a few episodes past "Swap Meet", where a woman is murdered after attending a swing party with other couples from the neighbourhood. Near the end of the episode there's a moment that made me jump from my seat:

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two cups. He hands her a cup of tea.)

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - BRASS' OFFICE]

Erin Brady: Everybody fantasizes about other people. (She glances at Grissom.)

Even you, Mr. Grissom. A neighbor, a friend ... girl at the office.

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - HALLWAY]

(The door opens. Paul Brady walks out of the hallway. Erin Brady walks out into the hallway. Sara is sitting in the hallway chair watching them. She watches as they meet and kiss.)

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two culps. He hands her a cup of tea.)

LIKE!!!!!!!

Right after Erin ends her sentence with 'girl at the office', the first time Sara and Grissom meet again, he brings her tea. This might be an innocent interaction but to me it seemed like a nod to this relationship they have where both are into each other, know about the other's feelings, but can't/won't do anything about it (although Sara has kind of given Grissom an ultimatum). I don't know if it was intentional - I'm guessing it is, because I picked it up immediately. I might or might not have squealed in delight.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

inside me there are two wolves. one says "you should OCify muriel before she gets introduced so that you can explore the themes you personally would want to see, before you get distracted by canon". the other says "that sounds like a stupid idea and a surefire way to get disappointed by canon"

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Aveline is one of those companions in Dragon Age that makes me say, "God, you're such a bitch... tell me more right now."

I don't hate Aveline; honestly, I don't hate any of the companions from any of the games, their flaws and negative aspects make them interesting... but oh my god, Aveline is infuriating and sometimes I just want to grab and shake her.

She's such a hypocrite. She believes she's so lawful good and would never fall to corruption but she absolutely does?? Just because it's not the same sort of corruption as Jeven doesn't mean it's not corruption??

The Magistrate's Orders quest where you go to find Kelder who has a history of kidnapping and killing elven children? Aveline strongly agrees with bringing down hard justice on Kelder. When one of the guards there says Kelder's father will have Hawke's head, she says, "Only if it's reported."

If you kill Kelder, Aveline gives you Friendship +5 because she understands that if you let Kelder go, he'll never face justice for his crimes because his father won't let him. If you let him go, she gives Rivalry +5. In this situation, Aveline is more approving of Hawke killing him because yeah, it's bad that Kelder is killing these elves and everyone is just covering it up.

Fast forward to the end of Act 2 where Aveline comes to Hawke like, "The qunari are harboring two fugitives, we can't let them do that, it'll be real bad if people think they can avoid punishment by hiding with the qunari, come help me."

But then you get there and the two fugitives are a pair of elves who admit they killed a guard who forced himself onto their sister because no one did anything when they reported it. So they took matters into their own hands... and Aveline has the balls to say, "That doesn't excuse murder."

What are you talking about??? And if Hawke asks her if it's true, she hesitates and says there were rumors and she'll investigate and I'm just.... what do you mean you'll investigate??? you heard rumors?? did you not investigate before??

Aveline "I don't coddle my men" Vallen, you KNEW someone reported this about that guard and what? You didn't investigate because?? Because nooo, not one of your men?? Aveline, just because you're in charge now doesn't mean ALL of the guard are as lawful and good as you supposedly are! There's always going to be corrupt guards and a good Guard-Captain would do everything in their power to seed out those guards for the betterment and safety of the people! They would take those accusations seriously! But the elves say no one did ANYTHING.

Then the part that really gets me, right? Is if Hawke says they would've done the same thing, Aveline gets pissed and says, "Hawke! That's not helping!"

But that's the thing- If it WAS one of Hawke's siblings in this exact situation instead of a nameless elf, Aveline would've taken it seriously. If the same guard forced himself onto Bethany or Carver and Hawke killed him for it, Aveline wouldn't be stomping around like, "That doesn't excuse murder, Hawke! How could you? You need to face justice!" No, she would've been all for killing the guard because it's Hawke and their sibling.

Aveline cares about Hawke and has a bias for them, so it's okay for them to do that but a couple of elves who, like Elren from the Magistrate's Orders quest, are sick of no one helping them when they need it do it.... Noooo, that doesn't excuse murder!

It's like Aveline can't ever admit she's in the wrong, either. She never takes accountability for this. Even if she just admitted that she should've investigated and she'll make an effort to be better for the sake of ALL people in Kirkwall [because Aveline believes "I stand for all of us!" so strongly that it's something she consistently says in battle] moving forward then I would be less what the fuck about it, but she just doesn't.

It's like with Emeric and the murders happening... she and her men supposedly investigate Emeric's claims that all these murders happening in Kirkwall are connected, but Aveline keeps dismissing him that there isn't enough evidence.... except there's SO MUCH EVIDENCE when Hawke goes to investigate DuPuis, funny enough.

It's takes Leandra going missing before Aveline takes the case seriously. Even Emeric dying is like.... "oh no, he's dead, he was right... let's not do anything about it." It's takes Leandra dying for Quinton to be caught and killed, and my Hawke always lashes out at her for this and she just.... stands there like "Okay. Nothing I can say will make it better. Sorry for your loss."

but actually, yes, you COULD say you'll learn from this and do what you can to be better.... but again, Aveline just doesn't want to hear it?? then the qunari shit happens after!

And I get it. Aveline is only one person. She's Guard-Captain but she can't be everywhere at once and sometimes there really isn't enough evidence to convict someone of a crime. I'm sure she has a lot of work and stress in her position... but god, it's her inability to face the fact that she isn't this great embodiment of lawful good and that she IS corrupt in a lot of ways.

Turning a blind eye to the corruption in your guard, coddling your men and getting pissy when Hawke comes to you like, "So, Cullen sent me a letter that there are complaints about you and he wants me to investigate because he's scared of you and really don't want your job so.... are you coddling your men?" and having your husband, someone completely biased in your favor, vouch for you like.... that's being a little corrupt, Aveline??? a little dishonest?? a little abuse of your power?? why are you so frustrating???

I have a lot of criticism of her [like don't even get me started on how she ruined Carver's opportunity with the guard when that absolutely was not in her right to do] but I still find her to be interesting in a complicated, frustrating way. I have theories about why she's Like This that stem from her father and upbringing, but that's an analysis for another day. I just needed to get these thoughts out because I'm replaying DA2 and Aveline always hits a nerve.

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC De-Aged Triplets and Their Tired Single Sister

Jason has seen the four of them a couple of times in Crime Alley now. They looked like a family, what with similar facial features- err, actually, the kids looked like carbon copies of each other, but their mom/sister/aunt/cousin looked similar enough to be related to them by blood.

Normally, Jason didn't care for each and every family that moved into Crime Alley. Sure, he cared about all of them as a whole, but there were a lot of people, and he couldn't possibly get elbow deep in every life story he came across. So all he knew about them were three things: a) they were on the run from someone or something, b) they trusted each other and no one else, and c) apparently, they have made it their life goal to never make any kind of sense.

The list of shit they have gotten into included but was not limited to:

• one of the kids biting a gun. Not the hand of the attacker who was holding it, no, the actual gun. And he bit a piece of it clean off, which earned him - or her, actually, Jason knew one of the triplets was a girl but he couldn't tell them apart - a lecture from their... mom? sister? parental figure. The lecture was about how chewing metal does not help with iron deficiency.

• getting kidnapped and creeping out their kidnapper to the point of him returning the kids back home. A few witnesses said one of the kids was actually driving, sitting on the kidnappers lap behind the steering wheel and cheerfully commanding the man to speed up or brake. Their mom actually apologized to the kidnapper for the incident and offered him homemade cookies for his troubles. He ran away without them.

• driving a lady at the laundromat insane by repeatedly walking inside and climbing into one of the washing machines. They never got out of it, just one kid walking into the laundromat, climbing into washing machine, then another kid, looking exactly like the previous one, walking inside, climbing into the same washing machine, then another kid walking into the laundromat- well, you get the idea. The lady claimed she's seen at least five kids do that in a row, but when she looked into that washing machine, there was no one inside.

• casually falling out of windows. Or, better, walking out of them like they were doors, at any given opportunity. The witness - an old man who was helping their mom with groceries - said the mom did not care in the slightest, and when he asked her about it, obviously concerned, she just said, tired and exasperated, 'they like the feeling of free fall, don't worry, they'll come back in a minute'. Sure enough, they did, not a scratch on them. The family lived on the sixth floor.

• eating insane amounts of food. Jason personally witnesses their mom give them her wallet, telling the kids, 'eat until you're full', and promptly passing out on the table, her head on her arms. The kids then proceeded to eat four whole pizzas, three burgers each, then seven brownies and at least five cups of soda. What was interesting about it was not only the amount of food they ate but the way they never left their mom unattended, one of the kids always staying beside her sleeping figure as the other two went to order.

And now, all four of them were standing in front of him. Not Jason Todd him, but Red Hood him. And he was... confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, can you watch them for a few hours? Three, maybe four," the mom, Jazz as she introduced herself, was looking at him like it was he who was speaking nonsense, not her. Because asking a crime lord to watch three kids in the middle of the night is not something a sane person would do.

"Why?" He asks, bewildered, because what the fuck else is he supposed to say?

"I need to kill a man, and if they come with me, it will take three times longer," Jazz tells him. Is she saying the kids slow her down or what? Jason can admit he's never been this confused in his entire life.

"You could ask me to kill a man, while you stay with them, no?" He tries to reason, but the girl waves him off:

"No, that will take even longer. Besides, no offense, but you kill people to simply end their life, and I need that man to fucking stop existing forever."

What's the difference he almost wants to ask. But instead of that, he just sighs.

"Why me? I'm sure you could find a babysitter-"

"No babysitter will handle them. The last one told me they have been running laps on the ceiling, which is, actually, not that big of a deal. They are kids. Kids like running around," she huffs, and Jason suspects she is missing the point here, but okay. He gets why babysitters are not an option.

"You do understand what they can witness if they stay here?" He asks, as the last attempt to reason with the girl, but she just nods and leans down, making all the kids turn to her.

"Okay, you menaces, tell me what not to do while you're staying with Mr. Red Hood."

"No eating people," one kid starts.

"No driving people insane," the other one continues.

"No, um, stealing eyeballs," the third one finishes, and what the fuck are those ground rules? Is this girl a mother to eldrith horrors? That would explain some shit.

Jazz turns to him, "See? They're all good."

In what world is that good? Jason debates if he should start running now or when she leaves.

"Do they have names?" He asks instead. The girl nods:

"Danny." His surprise must be evident even through the mask because she sighs and points to each kid, "Diane, Daniel, Dante. Dani, Danny, and Dan. Actually, you know what, let's make this easier," she rummages through her bag and gets a marker out before gesturing to the kids, "Come here."

As they do, she proceeds to draw numbers 1, 2, and 3 on their foreheads. Then she nods to Hood and puts the marker away.

"Okay, that's better. Behave, you monsters, I'll be back soon!"

After she leaves, Jason looks down at the kids. They also look at him, eerie and unblinking.

Finally, one of them - number 2, Dani, if he is not mistaken - asks:

"Do you want teeth? We have a lot."

"She doesn't mean her teeth," number 1 clarifies, "She means other teeth."

...This is going to be some very long three hours.

[suncoved]

RAFE, SCARY? PFFT ! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: you had the most loving, sweet, precious boyfriend in the world. so why were your new found friends so scared of him?

prompt: “you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?”

you could barely contain your happiness as you applied your 5th layer of glittery lipgloss on your lips, holding the decorated pink tube in your manicured fingers. you batted your eyelids at the clock hung on rafe's wall.

kiara told you to be there at 8:00 and it was currently 7:30.

but you didn't want to be late, so leaving now was a good plan for you.

you had never met kiara's friends before. you had been best friends with her your whole life, but after she and sarah split, they told you you had to pick a side. and you would never tell sarah that the main reason you picked her was because of her psychotic older brother who was always roaming aimlessly around tannyhill.

sarah was your best friend, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.

but you couldn't help but ponder over what would have happened if you picked kiara, what life you would have had.

you missed her, truly. so when faced with the oppurtity to reconnect with her through your mothers exchanging numbers on one random night at the wreck, you took it.

and before you knew it she was inviting you to come down to the boneyard with some of her friends from the cut, to which you accepted gratefully.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bathroom door click open, the steam rolling out from underneath it like a tidal wave. you turned your head softly at the noise, placing the lipgloss applicator quickly back in the tube.

beads of water trickled down his v line, escaping into the beige towel wrapped around his waist into a place you didn't even have the time to imagine. he lifted his hand up to his head, running a hand through his now brown hair that had darkened from getting wet under the stream of water.

"quick rafe we have to go!" you whined, trying to avoid eye contact with the 6'2 tall build distraction in front of you. you shuffled around the room, going into his closet and picking out clothes for him to quickly put on since he insisted — well — demanded, on driving you down to the boneyard.

you shoved the clothes into his hands, his hand making contact with yours momentarily, creating a spark between the two of you. your cheeks flushed as you quickly looked away, turning around and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

you watched as he made no effort to move, a smirk you know all too well gracing his face. "rafe, i mean it. get changed" you groaned as you pushed your palms into the soft covers of his king sized bed.

"if you wanted to see me naked baby, you could just say that."

your cheeks quickly turned into the darkest shade of pink you could imagine, your hands quickly reached up to your face, covering your eyes as you huffed softly.

he scoffed at your movements, reaching over to spread your fingers apart so you could see through them. "im just joking ma, you've seen it all before." he winked, moving back to see the full sight of him while lifting his bicep up and flexing it in your face.

you jokingly rolled your eyes, falling onto the bed so you were now staring at the ceiling. your fingers found their way to each other, nervously intertwining as you thought.

you heard rafe shuffling around near his closet, his fly ziping up and the clink of his belt being melody to your ears. "what if they don't like me?"

your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. if rafe wasn't listening he definitely would have missed it. but he always listens.. to you.

"impossible" he stated simply, using a tone that left no room for discussion. he didn't use that tone often, but when he did, you stayed quiet.

you chewed on your bottom lip, knitting your brows together.

you were so lucky to have rafe in your life. he was kind, caring and patient and always knew how to calm your anxiety.

honestly, you were surprised he let you go down to the beach with the pogues in the first place. you tried your best to keep out of that whole kook-pouge turf war as best as possible. to you, it was immature, unnecessary and just pointless. but it had been around on the island since before you could remember.

though, it was safe to say that you and rafe didn't see eye to eye on that topic. he didn't like the pogues, not one bit. and he made that very, very clear.

he knew how much you loved kiara, and how your face lit up when your mother's voice echoed through rafe's car speakers when she called you after seeing kiara's mother.

it took him longer to warm up to the idea that you would be seeing her whole friend group, which consists of just pogues, and most importantly, jj maybank.

there was nothing more rafe hated than jj maybank.

yet, he knew how happy this would make you. and he was willing to do this, for you. only for you.

"ready bubs" rafe announces, smoothing his polo down haphazardly and stuffing his feet into his shoes. he hears you pulling yourself up and off his bed, your socked feet padding over to him and resting your head on his chest.

he smiles and he brings his arms around your body. sighing contently as he places a kiss on your head before resting his chin on you. "they are gonna love you, like everyone loves you. don't think for a second that they won't"

you giggle against him, somehow trying to push yourself further into him, which was impossible.

"no im being serious baby, i have some serious competition." rafe huffed, pulling himself back from you and looking at your face peering up at him.

"shut up" you joke, your cheeks burning as you blushed at his words. he leaned down until his lips met yours, bringing his fingers to your chin and lifting your head up.

you two melted into each other, your sweet strawberry lipgloss coating his lips quickly. he didn't care though, he was kissing you. so nothing else mattered.

you were losing yourself in his touch, not noticing he was slowly pushing you back until your calfs hit the back of his dark oak bed frame and your body eventually fell against the soft fabric of his covers.

he slipped his hand up your lacy white cami, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin of your stomach. he detached his lips from yours as his cold slender fingers slipped under the wire of your bra, kissing his way down your neck and chest.

you bit your now chapped lips as you looked down the the brunette boy making goosebumps appear over your skin. you threw your head back against his pillow closing your eyes and opening them again as your head lulled to the side.

your eyes fixated to the clock resting on his wall, reading 7:54. your mind ticked for a second before realising where you needed to be in exactly six minutes, gasping rather dramaticlly.

rafe's head snaps up to look at you, his eyes hooded with worry and hunger at the same time. it was only when he followed your eyes to his sleek white clock that he realised what had happened.

he rolled his eyes and he pulled your shirt back over your stomach, leaving one last searing kiss before smoothing the material down.

"rafe we have to go, now. now!" you whisper yelled almost slipping and you tried to put on your shoes while you hobbled out of his bedroom.

"baby, baby." he spoke, hopping up and walking quickly after you. he reached out to your waist holding you stable so you didn't slip over and hurt yourself.

"ok, ok. ill be careful. lets just go!" you gasped, trying to wiggle out of his firm grip. he chuckled as he let go, watching as you speed down the stairs of tannyhill and down to his white jeep parked out the front.

it was a fairly uneventful ride down to the boneyard, rafe's hand resting on your bouncing leg the whole time, slightly soothing the nervous feeling arising in your chest.

"c'mon baby, we're here" he voiced, opening his car door before quickly jumping out and circling the car before he opened yours for you. your eyes drifted down to the beach as rafe helped you out of his rather tall car.

a blonde boy with a backward cap resting on his head sat on a log with two other boys around your age, beers resting in their hands as they talked. your eyes followed along the beach where you saw kiara picking up trash along the shore, smiling brightly to yourself.

rafe intertwined his hand with yours, tightly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes at the people on the beach. "you don't have to drink yeah? just tell them no, ok?" rafe spoke.

you nodded softly, peering up at him through your lashes to see his face stern and menacing.

you began walking first, dragging rafe softly behind you as your shoes hit the soft sand below you. you kept your eyes glued to your feet the whole way until you heard voices now crystal clear echoing through your ears.

"hey, you made it!" kiara exclaimed, bringing her arms around you as you let go of rafes hand. "hi kie" you murmured into her shoulder, embracing her into a soft hug.

"hey, rafe. what're you doing down these parts?" the blonde boy asked, standing up from his spot on the large log he was sitting down on before. you saw rafe tick his jaw to the side as you pulled away from kiara, his tongue sliding through the front of his teeth.

"just dropping her off maybank, not here to stay" rafe remarked, turning his attention to you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, ghosting his hands over your sides as he pulled back from you.

"call me when you need me to pick you up yeah?" rafe said, keeping his eyes on you as you nodded hastily. he smiled sweetly at you, watching as kiara grabbed your hand a pulled you down to the shore, showing you the tiny baby turtles rushing into the water in front of you.

"hey jj" rafe said, turning his head to the boy standing a few feet from him, not daring to come any closer. rafe watched as he nodded cautiously, pursing his lips together as to almost prepare himself for what rafe was about to say.

rafe took a few steps before he reached jj, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and hoisting him up until they were face to face.

“you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?"

[roosterforme]

Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans. 

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself. 

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you. 

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

--------------------------

It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it. 

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt. 

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable. 

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night. 

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake. 

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there. 

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there. 

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours. 

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

-----------------------------

"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there. 

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything. 

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious. 

"I like that one," he told you softly. 

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you. 

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

---------------------------

"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

----------------------

"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him. 

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely. 

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside. 

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole. 

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake. 

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh. 

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you. 

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

------------------------

Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead. 

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony." 

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy." 

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land. 

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

------------------------------

Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day. 

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly. 

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over. 

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms. 

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest. 

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs. 

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up. 

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again. 

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again. 

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips. 

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing. 

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy. 

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips. 

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear. 

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate. 

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips. 

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan. 

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

---------------------------

You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed. 

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first. 

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number." 

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

---------------------------

@blahehblah

Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

Read Bradley's version in Whole Lotta Love

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[allseeingdirt]

everytime i think about kath for too long especially when considering the wider picture im like. ngeremes plastik

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[chososlilprincess]

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

[darylbae]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡🩰

i think daryl would definitely not realize it at first, in fact i think the group would notice it before him. rick would see the way daryl's gaze would linger onto you when he'd talk about a risky supply run. rick would of course tell michonne, who would poke a little fun at him. "you like her!" "shut up, i do not!" and it wasn't until he'd laid down for the night, that he had realized it. he'd think about your eyes, and how bright they were when you'd be talking to anybody. he'd think about the nervous tells you had, like bouncing your leg, chewing on your lip and looking around the room. he'd think about how, sometimes annoyingly, bubbly you were no matter what. it would typically bother him how happy you were mid-apocalypse, but he lets it slide more often than not. he would not pick up on this stuff if he didn't have a crush. he'd be hyper-aware of how he acts around you, after admitting to himself he had a crush on you. he'd glance at you, then quickly glance away, but always end up looking back over at you. he'd study your lips and how they moved, wanting nothing more than to feel them on his. most of all, he'd keep it to himself. because the last thing he needs is everyone finding this out. and making your friendship with him tense. carol could see through daryl almost too easily, so she's the only one who can get away with poking the bear. besides you. "you like her, huh?" carol would ask, and daryl would just roll his eyes. "so what?" "do something about it!" daryl had no understanding of 'doing something about it', despite his moody, careless attitude, he cared deeply about your friendship and wanted nothing to ruin that. rick was playing matchmaker and suggested the two of you to go out on a run, much to daryl's dismay. now he'd have to deal with his constant reminder of his crush on you, as well as you. there you were, sat sweetly on the hood of a car waiting for him, a smile plastered onto your face as you spotted him. "ready to go?" you asked, your voice smooth as honey and it had sent shivers up his neck. "get in." he'd mumble. "yes, sir." let's not talk about your use of the word sir, and what it does to him. he couldn't explain it, the authority of the word sir, just hit him in his sweet spot. he'd constantly look out for you on runs, even when going along with others, he'd volunteer to split up but stick with you. it wasn't like you were a nuisance, not all the time anyway, he just loved being there for you. he'd walk behind you, trying to be a gentleman and stop himself from gazing across your body as you walked. you were the total personification of sex. "can i bring this back?" you'd ask, picking up something stupidly unnecessary, this time it was a small, pink, glittery cowboy hat attached to a pink headband. "will it help us?" he'd respond, not even looking your way, but still having to keep you entertained. "no." you'd respond, glum face as you look down at it back on the shelf. "then i think we found our answer." daryl was always a bummer, but you had gotten used to it. you knew how deeply he cared for his people, so what was a little grumpiness. but you'd always return back, and find whatever stupid thing you'd found on a run, sitting on your bed by the end of the day.

[vivwritesfics]

Can We Get One

The youngest Leclerc loves baby Leo. So why the fuck won't her boyfriends let her get a puppy?

Norstappen x leclerc!reader

Okay I found out one of 'my' dogs died while writing this

"Hi Baby Leo," she gushed as she scooped her little puppy into her arms. He was like a little shark with the way he went to bite at her sleeve.

But she didn't much mind, gushing over the dog that she had dubbed her nephew (well, if Arthur and Lorenzo weren't going to make her an aunt, Leo it would have to be).

"I'm gonna kidnap you," she said in that baby voice as she stroked under his chin. "Gonna steal you away from your daddy so you can come live with me and Lando and Max."

She was in her own little world as she played with Leo, her brother, her boyfriends, lost to her. Max tried to call her name, but she waved him off to press kisses to Leo's head.

Lando and Max couldn't deny how goddamn cute she looked, holding Leo close to her chest. She scooted around on her ass to face them. "Boys, I'm in love," she said and pouted at them as Leo went to bite her chin.

"Baby," Lando began as he joined her on the floor. "We're not getting a dog."

"Assholes."

She turned her attention away from Lando and looked towards her brother. "Charlie, do you need a baby sitter?" She asked as she placed Leo in her lap. He happily sat there and chewed on her skirt.

"No way," Charles said. "You're not babysitting my dog."

A huff left her lips and she muttered something to Leo, something like 'you'd never be this mean to me, would you angel?' "If I move in with you, cook, clean, pay rent, can I get a puppy?" She asked as she looked at him.

Max couldn't stop the laugh that left his lips. "Um, excuse me," he called and tapped her on the shoulder. She ignored him. "Angel, just because we're not letting you get a puppy..."

"That's not it, Maxie," she muttered and scratched at Leo's belly. "Leo just wants me close, that's all."

The Leclercs had always had dogs growing up. It was one of the reasons Charles had gotten Leo. So, seeing his sister so in love with his little puppy, he knew he had to do something.

Charles picked Leo up and pulled his sister up from the floor. She put Leo in his harness, attached his lead and put him on the floor. "Why don't you take him for a walk?" He said and pointed her towards the door.

But she didn't leave. "Cha," she whispered, looking back at her boyfriend. "What're you doing?"

He whispered something in her ear, something that Max and Lando couldn't hear. Something along the lines of 'I'm gonna try and convince these guys to get you a dog'.

She couldn't help but smile as she walked out, Leo at her heels.

Charles began talking to Max and Lando. But what he was suggesting was unrealistic. How could they have a dog when they already have cats? It wouldn't have been fair to Jimmy and Sassy.

But Charles wouldn't drop it, wouldn't drop how happy she looked when she was with Leo. Wouldn't drop how happy she would be if they got her a puppy.

By the time she came back with Leo, they still weren't convinced. But Max couldn't get it out of his head. They were his cats at the end of the day.

It didn't take long for him to work out that he'd do anything to make her happy, including get a puppy.

Charles took her away for a week. He was in on it, happy to help however he could.

And, while they were away, Max and Lando brought home Baguette. The name was Lando's idea, a 'French Poodle for a French girl'. Which pissed her off because she was not in fact French.

It was Max's job to introduce Baguette to the cats. It wasn't smooth sailing, but the boys knew it wasn't going to be. And, by the time Charles brought her home, Baguette and the cats were coming fast friends.

The memory of the first time she met Baguette would always be ingrained into Max and Lando's memory.

She threw her arms around Lando's neck the moment she walked into the apartment, unaware. But then she heard the barking.

"Is Leo here?" She asked, clearly confused as she looked around for the puppy.

But Max didn't emerge with a puppy. Well, not that puppy anyway. The French Poodle puppy was a stranger to her. "We got you something," Lando said as he watched her expression.

"No." It was almost a whisper as Max approached, Baguette in his arms.

"Baguette, say hello to your mommy," Max said as he passed her the dog.

Her mouth fell open as she took Baguette from Max. "This... this is a joke, right?" She couldn't stop herself from asking as Max wrapped his arm around Lando's waist. "You guys got me a dog?"

"We sure did, baby," Lando said as he stepped out from Max's embraced. He stroked Baguettes head, touched his soft, curly ears. "Baby, meet Baguette."

(Baguette below)

[girlgenius1111]

revelations

alexia + león!r's secret relationship comes to light no warnings! enjoy 🫶🏻

-------

“Ale!” You shouted, scrolling frantically through your phone, through photo after photo of you and Alexia at the beach the other day. They all bordered on too friendly, or at least they seemed that way to you. The panic in your tone was clear, and Alexia felt her stomach drop in the bedroom. She’d been putting away some laundry when you’d shouted for her, but she was running towards you without a second thought. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked, sliding in her socks on the hardwood floor slightly as she made it into the living room. You looked okay, physically, although your face was contorted with anxiety and fear. 

Wordlessly, you held your phone out towards her. Alexia crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing the phone and beginning to scroll. “Oh.” She said. 

And if you had been anxious before, it was nothing compared to how you felt now. Was she upset with you? The beach had been your idea, your terrible, terrible idea. Alexia looked upset, and your thoughts began to spiral further. Did she not want anyone to know about your relationship for more reasons than just being afraid of your sister? Was she really not as into you as you thought and going public would be a mess that wasn’t worth it? Did she really even love you? 

“Amor?” Alexia said. You looked up at her, seeing her brows furrowed as she gazed down at you. You realized she had said your name a few times, but you’d been too lost in your own head to notice. “Talk to me.” Her voice was gentle as she took a seat next to you, dropping your phone onto the sofa and taking your hand in hers. 

Alexia knew how you could be, and the best thing she could do for you when you got anxious was just listen. Sometimes you could talk yourself down, and other times she’d do it for you, but having her listen without judgment always seemed to help, at least a little bit. 

“Are you upset about the photos?” You asked, instead of listing out every insecurity that had just popped into your head. Alexia did not know how deeply unworthy of her you felt, and she never would if you could help it. 

Your girlfriend thought for a minute. “Not upset about the photos. I am… upset because you are upset.” 

“You aren’t mad that I made us go to the beach?” 

“Amor, you did not make us do anything. We just went to the beach. We are allowed to do that. I am upset that you are so anxious, I am not upset with you.” 

“People are going to see these, Alexia.” 

“I know that. We’ll deal with it, however you want.” 

You chewed on your lip for a minute. “And if I wanted to tell people? About us?” You asked, voice small and hesitant. Alexia felt her heart melt as she gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face to look at her. 

“Then we’d tell people. If that is what you want, that is what we will do. I understand why we are keeping it to ourselves, but I would also be very happy for everyone to know that you are mine.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. I just want you to be happy. That is all I want, and all I need. You, with a beautiful smile on your face.” Alexia whispered, leaning in and very softly pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You were a puddle of mush on the sofa at this point, tucking your face into Alexia’s neck and taking a few calming breaths. She held you carefully, as she always did incredibly content to sit with you until you felt better. If Mapi killed her when she found out, oh well. At least she’d gotten a whole year with you first. 

-------

“Hermanita, I am just saying, I can find you a date. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with anyone.” Mapi was practically shouting, even though the volume in the club wasn’t very loud. She was excited, though, as she always was when she talked about your love life. Your sister was very famous for setting you up with girls, and once you got to know them more, decided they weren’t good enough for you. Which was part of the reason, you and Alexia had yet to tell your sister this was going on. 

“No, Mapi.” You said for what felt like the hundredth time, rolling your eyes good naturedly, even as you felt Alexia’s hand grip onto your upper thigh under the table. You peeked at her out of the corner of your eye. Her jaw was set tightly, and you could feel the jealousy coming off her in waves at even the mention of you going on a date with someone else. Mapi was too caught up in listing off people she could set you up with to notice. 

Alexia and you were both very tense. Ever since the pictures of you both at the beach had been released, you’d been walking on eggshells around your teammates, wanting to give them nothing that could lead them to believe you were anything more than friends. You’d decided to tell, yes. But you didn’t want people finding out through the pictures, or through walking in on you and Alexia making out in the showers after training. You’d been lucky, so far. No one had brought them up. And so, you hadn’t really thought anyone had taken the leaked pictures seriously. Your teammates definitely hadn’t, but it appeared that some of the fans had. Some of Alexia’s fans, specifically. 

This became clear when one of the girls who had been practically glaring at you across the bar all night finally made her approach. Alexia had left your side for just a minute to get you water, always one to push hydration. Your teammates were scattered throughout the bar, and Ingrid and Mapi were only a couple feet away, talking quietly to each other, small smiles on both of their faces. 

The girl was by your side very suddenly, almost startling you. She was clearly drunk, but the boldness and anger with which she spoke still shocked you. 

“I can’t believe Alexia Putellas would date you. You are not good enough for her. She should be with Jenni, or someone prettier than you. You’re wasting her time.” She slurred, each word feeling like a stab to your already very insecure heart. 

You stepped away from her, hearing Pina come to your defense from somewhere next to you, telling the girl to fuck off. Turning around, you almost ran directly into your sister, who had risen along with her girlfriend at the strange girl’s outburst. Her face was contorted with confusion, clearly having heard what the fan had to say. Your reaction spoke volumes, the way your eyes were flooded with tears, and your chest was already beginning to rise and fall rapidly. 

It was true, Mapi realized. In the time it took her to come to that conclusion, you were off, sprinting towards the bathroom. They were single bathrooms, thank god, and you made it inside quickly, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

She was right. That girl was right. How could you ever think you were good enough for Alexia. Sweet, beautiful, perfect Alexia. The best person you’d ever known. 

It was one of the worst panic attacks you’d had in years, and by the time Mapi slipped in through the bathroom door, you were pretty far gone, only able to hear a faint ringing sound, only able to claw desperately at your chest. 

“Hermana, hermana, breathe, you are okay,” Mapi tried, reaching to grab your hand. You only wheezed in response, and Mapi realized you weren’t hearing her. Your sister looked around rather helplessly, her unspoken plea for help being answered almost instantly. 

The door opened and in came Ingrid, closely followed by a very frantic Alexia. As soon as the captain spotted you, though, her attention was stolen, no longer thinking about the implications of everyone finding out about your relationship. She was at your side on the filthy floor of the bathroom within a second, carefully grabbing your face in between her hands, and tilting it up towards her. 

“I am here, mi amor, I am right here. You have to breathe, cariño, let yourself breathe.” 

Alexia, too, realized you weren’t really hearing anything she had to say, so she switched tactics, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in until your head was resting against her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ingrid tugging a resistant Mapi out the door of the bathroom, but Alexia only cared for you in that moment. 

“I have you, my beautiful girl. I love you, more than anything. Everything is okay. You are safe.” 

You managed to come back into yourself, your girlfriend’s voice in your ear the most comforting thing you’d ever heard. You looked up at her, tugging her as close to you as possible, needing to feel more of her. “Ale” you whimpered, watching her face crumble at the sound of her name. 

Alexia hated seeing you like this. “Mi preciosa.” She soothed. “I love you, my girl, I love you so much. You are okay.” 

Your insecurities quieted for a moment, in favor of something else flooding your mind. Mapi knew. Mapi knew. That her little sister was dating her best friend. You’d seen it on her face, when you turned around to flee the scene. She’d known. 

You’d talked about telling Mapi, yes, but now that she knew… you were terrified. What if she was upset? What if it ruined your relationship with your sister, or her relationship with her best friend? What if she made Alexia break up with you? 

Your girlfriend could tell very easily that you were spiraling, barely having calmed down in the first place. 

“Hey, come back to me. I’m right here, mi amor. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Alexia whispered, her face so close to yours that all you could really see were her eyes, squinted with worry. 

You gripped onto her shirt tightly with both your hands. “Mapi knows,” you told her, ridiculously afraid of her reaction. 

Alexia nodded slowly. “Ingrid told me when she came and got me. It’s okay, mi amor. We will deal with it.” 

“But what if-” 

“No what if’s. Tell the what ifs to go away. Just focus on calming down.” Alexia insisted, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded shakily. “Yeah. Just… stay here?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She promised, tightening her arms around you. “I’m staying right here, with you.” 

-------

Alexia got you up once you’d calmed down further, protectively wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and headed for the exit. As soon as you were both out of the bathroom, though, you were met with the sight of your sister pacing very aggressively around the little hallway just outside the door. Her head snapped up when the door opened, and Ingrid had to hold on to the back of her shirt to stop her from lunging at you, and pulling you into a hug. 

She squirmed in Ingrid’s grasp, huffing impatiently, all the while staring daggers at you. You searched her gaze for anger, but you only saw worry. 

“María,” Alexia began, pulling you in closer to her side. Mapi didn’t appreciate that, Alexia acting like you needed to be protected from her, and her face turned cloudy. 

“No. Alexia. No. How long has this been going on?” Mapi asked, her teeth gritted in a sudden flare of anger. You didn’t deserve to be kept a secret, and that’s exactly what Alexia had done to you. 

“María, amiga, I understand you have questions, I do, but your sister is really shaken up, and I’d like to take her home. She gets overstimulated after panic attacks, she shouldn’t be in here.”

Mapi floundered for a minute, filled only with concern for you, tucked away against Alexia’s side. 

“María, I just want to go home. We can talk tomorrow.” You said, your voice stuttering over your words. You were still anxious, still shaking, and all you wanted was to go home with your girlfriend, where it was quiet and safe and you could be entirely surrounded by Alexia. 

Ingrid squeezed your sister’s hand, and Mapi nodded to herself. “Okay, yeah. Okay hermana. I love you. Take care of her, please, Ale.”  

“Of course. I love her, María. I’ve got her.” 

Mapi watched as Alexia looked down at you, the softest expression she’d ever seen on her captain’s face. 

“Home, mi amor?” 

“Yes please.” You whispered. “Your apartment.” 

“Whatever you want, my girl.” She promised, before leading you in the direction of the exit. 

Mapi had never seen either of you like this. So evidently in love. So happy. And she felt stupid for missing it, and even worse that you’d both felt the need to hide it from her. She turned to Ingrid with tears in her eyes, to which her girlfriend sighed softly. 

“Come here.” Ingrid whispered, drawing her girlfriend close to her chest. 

“Am I a bad sister? A bad friend? Why wouldn’t they tell me?” Mapi mumbled. Ingrid shook her head. 

“No, you are a good sister and a good friend. You have an overprotective streak, María, they probably just wanted to give themselves time together before they told you.” Ingrid assured her. 

“I don’t like not knowing things.” Mapi complained quietly. 

Ingrid chuckled. “I know you don’t, María min. Now you know, though. And you can talk to them about it tomorrow. We can go to Ale’s and have a conversation.”

“Yeah. Oh god. EW.” Mapi said, quickly growing very disgusted. 

“What?” Ingrid wondered, pulling back in concern. 

Mapi looked nauseous. “They are sleeping at Alexia’s house together.” 

“Maybe your sister is sleeping on the couch.” Ingrid suggested helpfully. 

Mapi grinned up at her. “I love you.” 

-------

Alexia barely let you out of her grasp the whole way to the car, and the whole drive home. She kept your hand held tightly in hers. Somewhere in your head, you knew very well that when you were anxious, it made Alexia anxious, but you didn’t have it in you to say anything that would let her know you were okay. You weren’t okay, and you weren’t even really sure you could speak at all. You were much calmer now, physically, but your mind was still a mess. You were shaking, and you did your best to focus on Alexia’s thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand.  

Before you knew it, Alexia’s free hand was lightly stroking your cheek, and you looked over at her to realize you had arrived at her home. 

“Hi.” She said softly, her hazel eyes earnestly looking into yours. Alexia really did love to watch out for you, even before you were together. She’d always kept an eye on you, at first because you were her best friends’ sister. Eventually, though, she found herself watching you when she didn't have a reason to. And you’d gaze at her right back. 

“Hey.” You replied, giving her the best smile you could manage, although it was sure to be very weak and unconvincing. 

“Feeling better?” 

You shrugged. “A bit.” 

Alexia sighed, seeing through your lie, but she smiled at you anyway, kissing your cheek and getting out of the car. She was around the car in a flash, opening the door and offering you a hand. 

Once you were in the house, Alexia instructed you to sit on the couch and wait for her to return. You tried to relax into the couch, tried to get your mind off what the girl in the bar had said to you. You don’t think you were very successful, because Alexia was back in what felt like 3 seconds, though she had her hands full. 

“Okay. Water, crackers, your medicine and a sweatshirt. And that fun pokey ring.” She said, dumping everything onto the table in front of you, handing the sweatshirt to you first. It was one of hers, one of your favorites, and you pulled it on quickly, trying to covertly inhale the scent of her all over the fabric. Alexia very dutifully handed you the water next. You smiled at her gratefully, eating a few crackers and taking your anxiety medicine. You turned to her, prepared to tell her what had happened as you knew she was probably dying to know, but she turned back to the table, grabbing the acupressure ring. She gently took your hand, sliping the ring onto your finger, smiling to herself when your skin erupted in goosebumps at the sensation. 

“Better now?” She asked, lacing her fingers with yours. You nodded, this time telling the truth. “Can you tell me what happened please?”

You nodded again, this time a bit more hesitantly. You didn’t really want to tell her what the girl had said, but you knew you had no choice. “What did Ingrid tell you?” 

“She said someone said something to you about me. And that Mapi heard, and knew we were together.” 

You thought for a moment. You were a bit torn on how to feel now. On one hand, Alexia had been so entirely perfect, the whole night. She’d gone out of her way to make you feel safe and help you calm down. Your insecurities really didn’t know any bounds, though, and you were still half convinced that the girl had been right.

“What did she say to you?” Alexia wondered, after it was clear you were having a hard time finding the words. 

You took a deep breath, tearing your eyes away from your girlfriends as you responded. “She said that she couldn’t believe you were with me. That you should be with someone better, someone prettier. And that I’m wasting your time.”

Alexia was silent for almost an entire minute, long enough for you to look up at her and try to gauge her reaction. She finally spoke when she made eye contact with you. “And you… you believed her? You think she was right?” She asked. 

“Do you?” You countered, trying to sound stronger and more confident in her answer than you felt. 

“No.” Alexia said, exasperation clear in her voice. “I do not. You are perfect for me. I do not need anyone else, and I do not want anyone else.” 

“Right.” You whispered, blinking hard. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have believed her I just-”

“You do not need to apologize for feeling bad that someone said something horrible to you.” Alexia replied, resting her hand under your chin and tilting it up towards her face when you wouldn’t look at her yourself. “I would never be mad at you for being insecure, mi amor. I understand. It just means I do not tell you enough how much I love you.” 

“You tell me so often.” You laughed, and Alexia smiled sadly down at you.

“Well, I need to tell you more.” She reiterated, leaning down to brush her lips to yours. “I love you.” She moved her lips to your cheek. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She continued, pressing kisses to every inch of your face, repeating the words in between every kiss. When she pulled away, whispering a final I love you against your lips, you were quite sure that you believed her. And that you’d never felt more loved in your life.

-------

“Please come with me.” Mapi begged from the passenger seat. 

Ingrid smiled sympathetically. “No, this is something you need to do yourself.” 

“My sister gets to have her girlfriend there.” Mapi said grumpily. 

“Your sister’s girlfriend is part of the conversation.” 

Mapi sighed, turning slightly more serious. “Ingrid, I don’t know what to say.”

“You aren’t the one doing the talking yet, elskling. Hear them out. And then tell them what you think.” 

“Right. Okay. I can do this.” 

“You can do this.” Ingrid agreed, before unbuckling her girlfriend’s seatbelt for her, as it seemed she wasn’t quite going to take the first step. It was almost entertaining, watching Mapi move like a snail as she grabbed her phone and slowly, slowly, got out of the car. 

-------

“They’ve been in the driveway for like 7 minutes.” You noted, leaning your head on Alexia’s shoulder. 

She sipped her coffee, smiling slightly as she gazed out the window with you. “Maybe she is picking out the weapon she is going to kill me with.” 

“Don’t say that.” you groaned, wacking your girlfriend on the arm. 

“I am just kidding, amor. She isn't going to kill me, or you. It’s all going to be fine.” 

You didn’t say anything in response. All you could think was that you hoped to god she was right. 

------

You’d never seen Mapi so reserved, as she walked through Alexia’s door, and took a seat in the big armchair. You sat on the couch next to Alexia, much farther away than you would have normally sat next to her, but you were trying to ease your sister into this whole thing. 

It was awkwardly silent as you all sat looking at each other for a minute, none of you really knowing where to start or what to say. 

“How long?” Mapi asked eventually, fixing her gaze on Alexia. 

“A year.” You said quietly, the significant amount of time not making you feel any less guilty. 

“A year?” Mapi breathed, looking between the two of you incredulously. 

“A year last week.” Alexia confirmed. She shifted slightly, sliding her foot across the floor so that her sock squished against yours. Your girlfriend was nervous, you realized. 

“Why… why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I understand if this was new and you weren’t telling anyone, but it’s been a year. You’ve never dated anyone for longer than a month, hermanita, why would you keep this from me?” 

Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but you recognized the question was directed at you and your sister would not appreciate your girlfriend speaking for you. 

“At first, we just wanted to see where things were going. And then… I don’t know. It was just easier not to tell. We didn’t have to deal with anyone’s reactions or opinions that didn’t matter-”

“My opinion does not matter?” Mapi interjected, frowning sadly at you.

“Of course it does, María, I just… I wanted to decide this for myself. Without you being for it or against it, I wanted to decide how I felt about Alexia before anyone told me how I should feel.” You explained, relieved when your sister nodded slightly. 

“Me too.” Alexia tacked on, wincing slightly when you stomped on her foot a bit, though her face fell further when Mapi turned to her with a cold glare. 

“You have been keeping my sister a secret from everyone. Are you ashamed of her?” 

“María!” You yelped, looking horrified at her. 

Alexia remained calm, though, keeping steady eye contact with your sister. “No. She is the most important thing to me. We decided to keep it a secret together. I would have told the whole world that I loved her the minute I knew, if it would have made sense. People are still insane about me and Jenni, though, and I did not want her to get caught in the crossfire. It was just easier for both of us if no one knew.” 

Mapi looked slightly less angry now. 

“We were going to tell you. Next week at brunch, we were going to tell you, Mapi, I promise, this just happened first, and…” 

“What that girl said to her,” Mapi began, again looking at your girlfriend with a slightly accusatory expression. 

“Is false. Completely and entirely false. I want your sister, and her only. No one else.” Alexia spoke with conviction, and you felt a small smile on your face before you could stop it. 

Mapi nodded thoughtfully, then fixed her attention on you. “And you are happy?” 

“Yeah. I’m really happy, Mapi.” 

“And you? You are happy?” She asked, again looking at Alexia. 

“Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” Your girlfriend said honestly, though you could see the tips of her ears turning slightly red; Alexia never had been good at expressing her feelings. 

“Okay then.” Mapi said. “If you are both happy, then I am happy.” 

“Really?” You asked, looking skeptically at your sister. She normally made things much more difficult than this. 

Mapi just rolled her eyes. “Of course. You are both adults, and I trust you. I don’t think many people are good enough for you, hermanita, but if anyone is… it’s Ale. I guess.” She added the last part when Alexia looked close to tears. They weren’t expressive friends, normally showing their appreciation for each other through actions rather than words. 

You stood, walking over to your sister and pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, María, but I’m really really glad you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you.” Mapi said gruffly, ruffling your hair like she used to do when you were much younger. As you flattened it back down with an annoyed look thrown at your sister, Alexia moved forward, pulling her best friend into a hug. 

When Mapi whispered in her ear, Alexia wasn’t surprised at all. “If you hurt her, I will tear you limb from limb, Putellas. I mean it.” 

Alexia knew she did. 

And she had every intention of never hurting you, for as long as she lived. The ring she’d brought way too soon that sat in her sock drawer was evidence of that. The baby names she sometimes thought of when she lay awake at night were evidence. The way she looked at you, though, like you lit up every corner of her life, was the best evidence. 

When Alexia tugged you into a hug next, Mapi knew from the way that her friend looked at you, that this was different. This was going to be forever. You were happy, and you were with her best friend, and there wasn’t much of a problem your sister could have with that. If you got married and changed your name to Putellas, though. That’s where she’d draw the line. 

------

hope you enjoyed 🙂