#currently under red flag

[backwardshatpierre]

OOooh this race!!!! Omg alpine!! Hahahah how!??! Crazy

Let’s wait and see how it goes….

[evieelyzabethh]

"lacy"

⭒"i see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear"⭒ Arcane characters when jealous {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slight angst but they all have a happy ending, kissing, and the usual stuff (slightly pervy Jayce)

♞Vi♞

♞Making Vi jealous is a terrible game. She is about that action and absolutely loves to fight, nothing beats that flow of adrenaline as she chases someone down to bash their face in. I feel like she would also get a bit mean. Jealousy is a nasty thing, it bites, and she bites back harder. The pit it creates in her stomach tries to swallow her whole and sometimes she wants to bring you down with her

♞She doesn't understand why you would want or need the attention of anyone else when you have her. Chiefly at the beginning of your relationship, it would cause a rift, intention or not. Vi doesn't have a proper education, she’s constantly guilt ridden about her childhood and her sister, she's broke, and an absolute hot mess. She's already constantly questioning why you're with her in the first place and the last thing she needs is some random coming up and flirting with you and you even bothering to dignify their presence with a response.

♞She would go dead silent, brushing you off for what feels like weeks, stewing in her increasingly negative thoughts. She doesn't even think you're cheating, but she feels like it's only a moment of time before you realize there's something better out there. Always the one to make the wrong decision, she pushes you away for a bit. She's very short with you, brushing off your attempts to make peace, playing a mean game to see if you're gonna give up on her so she can use it against you. This is definitely her biggest red flag.

It's dark and rainy out, rain pelting at the ground, seeping and sliding into its cracks to rehydrate the already soft foundation. It was supposed to be a calm night out at the Last Drop involving a few drinks to get Vi out of her current terrible mood, bookended by an unstable walk home as you both barely support each other under your weight and constant fit of giggles. Instead, Vi was a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved into her pockets, her head down rather than putting her hood up to keep her head dry from the rain. Every time you approach her, she slightly leans away. At first you thought it was an accident, maybe she was trying to avoid stepping on a rock or into a puddle, but after the umpteenth time it happens, the message becomes clear. She's avoiding you. As argumentative as she is, you may even be worse. "What the fuck is your, problem?", you bark, the alcohol in your veins curving the embarrassment of passersby clearly tuning into the argument they think is about to break out. "You've said some choice things and have been awfully rude these past few days, and I really don't appreciate it, Violet." But she doesn't have it in her to make a big scene. It's definitely the alcohol, because she's genuinely scared that if she starts a screaming match with you right now, she'll cry. She turns to you swiftly, hair dripping wet, stray dye rolling down her cheeks and down the slope of her nose. You had just dyed it together a few days ago, back before she decided to be mad at you for who knows what reason. "Look at me", she grabs your chin before you even get the chance to break eye contact with her. Petty, pissed, and unable to jerk your face out of her grip without giving yourself whiplash, you close your eyes. This pisses her off even more. "What, you don't have any more charity work left in you? You can giggle with what-his-face for hours, but you can't even look at your girlfriend?" That gets you to open your eyes, at first confused as to what the hell she was talking about then glittering with amusement that causes her to immediately let go and continue her fast paced walk back home. She isn't far enough to escape your light voice, cheery with the realization that you finally broke her down and occupied with what you think is the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, my gods, you're jealous about that guy from last night! Vi, you're so ridiculous, I don't even remember his name." And she is still teeming with anger, but that anger will dissipate soon after that last admission. Once you sober up, you don't find it as funny, but she's at your every beck and call trying to convince you it won't happen again.

♞After a little while together, she feels more stable in the relationship. Trust, she still gets jealous, but it usually looks like a smirk on her face before she pulls you into a heated kiss in front of whoever is bothering her. She makes a real show of it too, prying open your mouth to slip her tongue inside, her hands squeezing your sides and hiking up your dress, knee pressed firmly in between your legs. She continues long after the person leaves, before shrugging and sarcastically wondering where they possibly could've gone off to. You often scold her for this. You've never been to jail, and you'd hate to go for a public indecency charge.

★Ekko★

★Ekko doesn't really get jealous, like out of everyone I think he would get the least jealous so most of this section would be about his complete lack of jealousy. He doesn't believe in getting into relationships without trust first and it's because of this confident trust that he wouldn't get jealous. If anything, he wouldn't be jealous as in feeling like your relationship was in danger but jealous when it comes to your time. Like he would get slightly pouty if he felt like you were spending too much time with your friends, and it was significantly cutting out of your time together. Even then, he wouldn't really act on it.

★Ekko would be a "I don't care what my girlfriend wears, I can fight" kinda guy. Especially because he likes picking out your outfits, he does it with the intention of showing off the goods. He likes looking at you, he knows the world likes looking at you, he sees it as doing a favor to society. He is the first to tell you your tits look scrumptious in that top.

★Same concept with you being approached or flirted with. If they have the gall to do it in his direct presence, he has a great many words to say about it, but if he's watching it go down, he likes to watch it happen. He'll get involved as soon as he gets the feeling you are uncomfortable, but for the most part he sits amused a few feet away laughing at the glances you give him as the conversation goes on.

★I feel like if anyone was to get jealous, it would be you. Ekko spends a lot of time with a lot of different people which leaves space for certain people to not know that he's spoken for. I think he would be less aware of this than you. You are always at the forefront of his mind; he cannot fathom giving his attention to other people. Especially because he talks about you so often, he makes it quite clear that he is not single and when people choose to ignore that fact, he doesn't notice.

Warm light flitters into your shared room through half open blinds that reveal the orange and yellow that the blue sky had faded into. Ekko had just gotten home eager to strip down into some old, tattered tee shirt and some boxer shirts. Instead, he was met with a slightly agitated girlfriend, and he notices this immediately. He gives you space at first, greeting you at the door and asking you how you were and listening to your expectedly short answer. He only lasts a few minutes of this passive aggression before sliding beside you on the couch, sliding his arm around you and pulling you in close. You reluctantly lean in, trying to ignore how inviting he smells and how warm he feels. "Baby," he draws out, scooping you completely into his arms to straddling your thighs over his waist, his large palms remaining on your upper thigh. He's trying to whittle down your resolve and it is working. "Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" You rolled your eyes. "I've already told you what's wrong." He thinks it's cute that you're jealous. He likes the way your arms cross over your puffed chest, and you furrow your brow to try and appear serious but all you look like to him is a rabbit about to thump its foot. "And I have already told you, I am completely yours." It's cheesy and he knows it and he amps it up by scattering kiss all over your face, even as you try to evade his touch. "I don't doubt that, it's just..." He derails your sentences as his kisses move lower and his hands get more adventurous, exploring your upper thigh and the curve of your ass and the small of your back from underneath your shirt. "Hey!", you snap, "I'm being serious, Ekko." He pauses, withdrawing his hands to the fat of your hips and, reluctantly, his lips from your neck. "I'm listening, baby." "I've told you I don't know how many times that I do not like that girl. She is all over you." His mouth opens to try and protest, but you cut him off. "I can literally smell her perfume on you." He gets slightly defensive at this. "You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you?" A look of hurt flashes across his eyes. "Of course, I don't, Ekko. I'm not questioning you; I'm questioning her. I know she knows we're together and she just doesn't care, and you don't shut it down. Why else do you think she kept you out this late? What were you two doing?" Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, actually. The girl you were referring to, Thalara, had been a topic of conversation before. She was new to the commune, which landed her the benefit of the doubt with you, but it's been months now and she still hasn't laid off. Ekko, ever trusting of his people, never assumed malintent, but you saw right through her. You cup his head in between your hands, looking him in his eyes to make sure that the message is clear. "I love you, and I'm not mad at you, but she's pissing me off. You need to make it very clear that she needs to leave you alone or I will send the message for you." And you meant that. He makes it very clear to her the next day that he has absolutely no interest and comes back to you the next day beaming in accomplishment.

★Jealous you turns him on so incredibly much. Whatever you say goes, he is not one to turn you down when you're in a jealous mood.

❂Jayce❂

❂I feel like you would both get jealous, but he would get far more jealous than you do. While he is far from someone who would tell you to change what you're wearing, he does try and tag along with you when you're wearing something low cut. Like babe, what do you mean you don't want him to join girls night? Are you sure you're not cold?? You must be cold; your ass is hanging out, why won't you take his jacket?? Please take his jacket!!! Because of this he walks behind you, making it much harder for those undeserving to stare at you like he does.

❂While he loves showing you off at fancy events, ain't shit funny if you look too good. If you're lucky enough to make it out the house on time (he insists on helping you zip up but then gets confused which way zippers go), being there is a struggle. He likes staring at you and did not have the forethought to think other people would enjoy staring at you too. Let someone make a comment too, he is glued to your hip for the rest of the night.

He waits anxiously for the stupid gala to be over. Had he been more of a drinker, he would've been content to have a few glasses of the fancy champagne they brought around, but he hates the ethanol aftertaste it leaves behind and that is the last thing he needed after already feeling nauseous. He was trying so hard for you, he knew he had to give you your space, and he knew you were excited to go out to his Hextech showcase to show your support. He's being bitter and he hates it, he hates biting his tongue while watching you giggle with a councilman and the fact that he feels like a petulant child watching some other kid play with his toy He's been getting better with his jealousy, honest! That's why he's self-aware enough to know that his urge to go after you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you home himself is childsh and silly and that you would chastise him over it as he looked at you like a kicked puppy. Gods, this was stupid. But he puts a smile on his face anyway, making his way over to you from the balcony he was just standing on, and sliding his hand on your shoulder. You look over at him, startled for a second, but relax when you see his amber eyes and slightly gapped smile. And then you say the magic words. "Oh, I was just about to go looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He cannot say yes fast enough. After he has you all to himself, he is insatiable, kissing you deeply as soon as you step foot in the carriage taking you home, losing balance and nearly sending you both toppling onto the floor of the moving vehicle. The seats are awkward and not long enough to properly lay you down, but he's too desperate to care about the discomfort, his hand cradling the back of your neck to make sure you are as comfortable as you can be. He's ruthless, the force of his kisses knocking the breath out of you and you can never catch up. You're almost dizzy, his desperate whispers nearly going through one ear and out the other. "You love me, right? Me and only me? You don't need anyone else.", and he's trying to find your zipper again, but his hands are clumsy and cold, and it only serves to arch your back further into him, not that he's complaining. When you do come to your senses, you giggle, running your nails through his hair as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "How long have you been holding that in." He looks at you sheepishly, fighting the urge to hide his embarrassment in the crook of your neck. "All night." You shake your head at his ridiculousness, pulling him in for a slower kiss, properly savoring the moment, before pulled away to peck his nose. "You are the only one for me, handsome, I don't know how many times I have to say it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "A few more times wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes and ask if he wants a collar, and he does not look as adverse as you expected.

❂He is so incredibly unhinged when it comes to jealousy. He doesn't act on it, but his mind goes to wild places. In a modern AU, if you dare not reply to a text in ten minutes he's asking, "What position he got you in?" Even worse, he knows he's being senseless, it's his way of asking for reassurance in a joking way. It's so absurd, you don't take him seriously which slightly frustrates him because he wants you to reaffirm him on what he already knows.

❂He gets really pouty when jealous too. He'll usually try and thrust himself into his work to occupy his mind and get it back to a rational place. Viktor calls you immediately because he ends up talking to him about it and he thinks the entire ordeal is unreasonable and doesn't have time to be asked at the ass crack of dawn "I know she loves me, but what if (insert insane scenario here)." He is a chronic overthinker and sometimes you just have to shut his brain off.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is another one who doesn't get super jealous, but when he does, it usually stems from insecurities surrounding his leg. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, especially as his condition gets worse, he gets frustrated that he can't do the things as easy as he used to be able to. However, he is entirely too proud to admit it or act on it. You probably wouldn't even notice, to be honest, and he wouldn't want you to.

☽I think he would absolutely throw himself into work when jealous. He's already at the lab damn near day and night, but unlike usual when he'll try for conversation here and there and be more lively, he's throwing himself into it out of necessity. It is one of his pride and joys, when his ego takes a hit, work is his refuge. This, of course, hardly ever works because he does not get good work done when it's being forced. He'll usually end up staring at the photo he keeps of you at your desk and feel lonely.

☽He'll invite you around to his lab more, though he is uncharacteristically stiff and rigid. He's trying too hard to focus but he just can't. His leg is tapping furiously beneath the table, he's biting the inside of his cheek, his hand is running through his hair every couple minutes. Things just aren't computing like how he wants them to and he hates it. His pride is a double-edged sword here, jealously is Jayce's thing. He thinks he is leagues above it and he gets frustrated with himself when he feels that green sickness in his heart.

☽He would be the type to address it head on. Once again, he's very analytical. He will tell you what exactly got him upset, why exactly it upset him, be very clear that he isn't blaming or upset at you, and silently hope you go overboard with affection for the next few weeks for the sake of his ego. After he does, he likes to ignore it even happened. Him? Jealous? You must have him confused with another ridiculously attractive, impaired, Czech-accented man. Jealous isn't even in his very extensive vocabulary, he has no idea when or why you dreamed of this completely fictitious scenario. He wouldn't try and gaslight you that it never happened, but he is petty enough to get selective hearing when it comes to mentions of it

For the first time since...ever, Viktor is home before the sun goes down. To say it catches you off guard is an understatement, so unused to the doorknob jiggling before the wee hours of the morning, you had a knife in your hand before you heard his keys in the door. You had been making dinner, and the smell alone makes his heart skip a beat. He hardly ever gets a warm dinner and for a minute, he deeply regrets being in his lab all the time. He slides off his shoes and loosens his tie as he pads over to you in the kitchen, wrapping one hand around your waist and the other gripping the counter for support. "You're home early.", you chirp, turning around to face him to peck his lips. "I was just making dinner, you want a taste?" Though he would never say no to that, you already have the spoon to his lips with a hand under to catch anything that might fall before he can even answer. He indulges, of course, and as the warm liquid soothes his throat, he hates that lab even more. Soup is one thing; but warm soup is to die for. "It's delicious, tchotchke." You smile as you turn back around. "Any reason you're home so early." He looks back the new ceiling fan you called Jayce over to put up and lets out a sardonic chuckle. He understands why you called him; he'd need to get on a ladder to put it up and have to abandon his cane for however long it took to hold the thing up and take care of the wiring. He wouldn't be able to balance himself and if he came down, the fan was coming down with him, probably on top of him. And yet, he still would've rather done it himself than you call Jayce to do it. "Yes, but it's admittedly a very stupid reason." You cannot fathom this. You remove the pot from the stove and onto a folded cloth on your counter and desert the stove. "Did something happen?" And he can't handle the look of concern on your face over something he knows to be trivial. "It's just that..." when he realizes he can't put it off any longer, he sighs. "I got jealous of Jayce." Had it not been for the serious look on your face, you would've burst into laughter. Those words had never fallen out of his mouth in that order before. "I know it's absurd, but it started when he put the fan up and it bothered me more than it should. I don't like that there are some things I can't do around the house, and it's been this way my whole life, but it's different with him. He's just always "the guy" and I hate the thought of him being "the guy" to you. It's irrational and a leap in logic, I know, but I hate it." And even better than pity, you just smile at him. In a way it's better that you want to laugh at him, he wants to laugh at him too. The thought of Jayce replacing him is maybe even more of an impossibility for you than it is for him. "So, next time I should just call a guy." He chuckles. "Yes, please."

☼Mel☼

☼I feel like she would be very calm about her jealousy, but also have a slight inclination to anger, albeit a silent one. She doesn't fear the betrayal of a potential cheating, but rather the embarrassment. If she were to see you get too chummy with someone, rather than approach you, she would watch from afar to see what you'd do. This is also a big reason why she usually doesn't take action herself; you never disappoint her when it comes to letting people know you're taken.

☼She is a bit clingier when jealous, but more than that she would insist on doing more couple things together. If she feels it is not known enough, she will make it known that the two of you are together. This often means gifts like expensive jewelry that only she could afford you, a new outfit that conveniently matches with one of hers, or even just letting you borrow bags or earrings of hers. It's her way of scenting you almost. She's too classy to try and "stake her claim" in a more showy way, so she does it in a more inconspicuous way.

Waking up alone wasn't something you were completely unused to. Mel was a very busy woman, and you were content with the nights you had together and rare mornings. These mornings were made extra bearable when you woke to a box on your nightstand, wrapped in a silk ribbon with a note in your girlfriend's handwriting slipped under the bow. 'From my heart, to my darling', it read, a lipstick mark beneath where she had signed her name with an elegant flick of her wrist. Perhaps just as eager to be opened as you were to open it, the ribbon fell loose as you gently picked up the box. It was too small to be a dress and too large to be a ring but large enough to contain maybe a fancy watch or a necklace, but judging by her unusually clingy demeanor last night, you had a feeling you could pretty accurately guess what was inside the ornate jewelry box. Unsurprisingly, within it lay a gold and pearl necklace, pearls that must’ve been rare due to their black hue rather than their usually pale pearlescent coloring.  The chain felt light in your hand, the heaviest part sinking into your palm as you stared at. Your first initial and an M. No matter which way it was taken, the M to be her first name or her last, the possessive message was clear, not that you minded. Mels smile was bright when she saw you for the first time that day, and even brighter when she saw what decorated your neck. She excused herself from the councilmember she was talking to before walking over to you, practically gliding on air. She takes your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist then your knuckles then pulls you by your hand into her. "I take it you're enjoying your gift?" Your hand still in hers, she spins you, taking you in at all angles for the first time that day. "It's beautiful, but I can't help but wonder what inspired the decision." She knows you know exactly how she works, and she doesn't mind admitting she's jealous. "Am I wrong to give my pretty girl a gift?", she says, mocking the comment you received last night. She rolls her eyes and her face gives away her impending rant. "Am I wrong to give a pretty girl a compliment? I still can't believe he said that to you last night. He only did it to piss me off, you know." You bite your lip to hide your laughter, but it eventually slips from you. "I hope I'm more entertaining than Salo was last night." She can't even feign annoyance, not with the sound of your laughter filling her ears and her name around your neck. She laughs herself, with how much the two of you talk shit about the man, you'd think anything he did could never affect her, but she had been biting her tongue since last night. "Shall I list to you all the ways you're better than Salo?" She waves the idea off nonchalantly. "No, my darling, I should hope I never need an ego boost that desperately."

☼You would definitely get jealous far more often than she does. She's gorgeous, smart, well spoken, rich and affluent, and perfection embodied in a person, there is much to be jealous of. Especially as someone who is on the council where part of the job is being great at sweet talk, I feel like you would get your feelings hurt sometimes. You catch more flies with honey, and she may be the sweetest honey there is. She does tease you for your jealousy though, she finds it utterly adorable.

☼She wouldn't allow you to be jealous long. She is very good at reading you and your emotions, she seems to always know exactly how you're feeling. You couldn't even hide it from her if you tried, she'll always find a way to corner you and help you talk your feelings through. She tries very hard to make sure that you can never question who she loves the most.  

[mv1simp]

for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

—————————————————————————

A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

[keerysfreckles]

A Luke fic with a read who’s the daughters of Aphrodite and its capture the flag and she uses her charms to distract him and ends up failing bc once her team she loses they see her and Luke but he has kiss marks all over his face and she’s blushing having her lipstick smudged??

all my love — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, making out (tehehe), petnames used (princess, babe, love), like one curse word

a/n: I. LOVE. THIS. REQUEST.

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n was well aware how much luke loved capture the flag. she knew he always helped annabeth lead the blue team to victory. being luke's girlfriend, she also knew his every move. which explains why y/n's currently waiting in a secluded spot in the middle of the forest, in between the lake and the mess hall.

she knew luke would show up soon, on his way to get the red team's flag, the team y/n was on. but capture the flag was the last thing on her mind.

the previous night luke had just so happened to make y/n, the overly confident daughter of aphrodite, become flustered in front of luke's whole cabin. this was going to be y/n's payback.

she tossed her red horse-hair helmet to the side many minutes ago. she hated how it messed up her hair. only a few minutes go by, until she hears rustled footsteps, leaves crunching under someone's shoe.

"princess?"

y/n turns at luke's voice.

"hi handsome," she smiles, waving her fingers.

luke takes off his own helmet, holding it between his arm and waist.

"what are you doing out here? shouldn't you be gaurding your flag, or fighting someone?"

y/n only walked closer, and she could've sworn you heard luke's heart rate pick up from where she was standing.

"i wanted to see you," y/n smiled again, her voice was soft. a contrast from the loud yelling from the capture the flag game going on around the couple.

y/n now stood close enough and wrapped her hands around luke's neck, playing with the dark curls. he hated to admit it but he could sit with y/n's hands in his hair for hours.

luke's helmet fell to the ground, while he held onto her waist.

y/n knew what she was doing to luke. being the daughter of aphrodite definitely had it's perks. y/n however, was lucky. not only could she make anyone fall in love with her with the bat of an eye, she had the power to wrap any soul around her finger. the ladder was happening to luke. what? she loved teasing him.

before luke could ask anymore questions, y/n stood up on her tip toes to kiss luke's lips. he gasped, taken aback by the action, but of course he kissed back. y/n's hands only tighted on his hair as she started deepening the kiss. luke walked the two backwards, pushing y/n's back into a tree. y/n pulled her lips away from luke, but only to place another kiss at the corner of his lips, a few on his cheeks, nose and three on his neck.

luke's ears perked at the sound a horn blowing in the distance. it was chiron, standing next to clarisse with the blue flag in her hands.

"you little cheater!" luke poked y/n in her sides, "you distracted me."

y/n only shrugs, "who's to say?"

luke and y/n both make their way towards the mess hall, where they heard the horn sound coming from.

once the two apear out of the woods, percy's quick to nudge annabeth. the girl turns, and gasps so loudly that it catches the attention of the nearby campers.

"holy shit, what happened to you?" clarisse shouts in amusement from beside chiron.

"clarisse," chiron states in a lecturing tone.

"sorry, wrong time."

the campers all see y/n and luke standing beside one another. luke wasn't aware of the plethora of red lipstick stains all over his face and neck. he turned to y/n, confused as ever, and just watched as she wiped away her smudged lipstick.

"told you i'd get you back from last night."

[p0orbaby]

Meet Cute

summary: it was always meant to be

warnings: just fluff for this one

a/n: probably my favourite pairing of mine to write

word count: 1.4k

-

Leah Williamson is not your type. This, you decide the moment you spot her from across the ballroom, swiping a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.

You’re aware she’s famous, which is typically a red flag for you. Infamous in your world, where all the proper names are whispered behind manicured hands and anything resembling normalcy is held with the same disdain as a counterfeit handbag. Leah Williamson is an athlete, which in your circles is roughly akin to being an overpaid circus act.

But what really gives you pause is her haircut.

Short, blonde, not-quite-pixie. She looks like she’s wandered in here by mistake, a traveler who’s taken the wrong exit on the motorway and ended up in a place where the speed limit is fifty miles under what she’s used to. You half-expect her to pull out a map and ask someone the quickest way back to civilisation. Instead, she tips her head back and downs the champagne like it’s water, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and you’re immediately in love.

Of course, you won’t admit this, even under threat of being forced to wear last season’s Chanel. Love, in your world, is about as fashionable as pleather.

Your grandmother, God rest her weary soul, once said, “You’ll know it’s love when you’re willing to risk wearing nude tights for them.” Nude tights, in her book, being one of the greatest crimes against humanity. You’re not sure you’re there yet, but the idea doesn’t fill you with as much dread as it would have this morning.

But you digress. You’re here at this godforsaken gala because your father insists on parading you like a prize cow before other old-money families, hoping you’ll marry someone with a suitable lineage. You’re twenty-six and your father has begun to suspect you might have, as he put it, “alternative preferences.” This is his way of reminding you that lineage is everything, and falling for someone without a trust fund is tantamount to treason.

So here you are, in a dress that costs more than most people’s cars, standing next to the dessert table and pretending the caviar blinis don’t taste like expensive regret. Across the room, Leah is now juggling her champagne glass and a miniature beef Wellington, and she seems to be losing.

You decide to rescue her. Or rather, you decide to rescue yourself from having to listen to Lord Farnsworth’s lecture on the importance of preserving the family crest for the fifteenth time this evening.

“Having fun?” you ask when you reach her, which is a stupid question because of course she isn’t. Nobody is having fun here.

She turns to you, and for a moment, you’re convinced she’s going to hand you her beef Wellington like you’re the help. Instead, she gives you a smile so dry you could use it to exfoliate.

“Are you?” she asks, and her voice is lower than you expected, with that clipped accent that tells you she’s from somewhere north of where people have indoor pools.

You shrug, because you don’t really know how to answer that without resorting to a level of honesty that would make your therapist proud but your mother faint.

“I’ve had root canals that were more enjoyable,” you say, and she laughs, a short bark of a sound that seems to surprise even her.

“Fair,” she says, and you feel like you’ve passed some sort of test.

“So what brings you to the seventh circle of hell?” you ask, watching as she abandons her beef Wellington on a passing waiter’s tray like she’s releasing a burden into the wild.

“I was invited,” she says, as though that explains everything, and maybe it does. Maybe she’s been told, like you have, that there are some invitations you just don’t turn down. Even if they come with the risk of being cornered by Lord Farnsworth and his endless tirade about how the current generation is ruining the art of fox hunting.

“Ah,” you say, because you understand that language. “That explains the face”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve been making all night,” you say, trying to demonstrate by contorting your own face into what you hope is an accurate imitation.

She grins again, and it occurs to you that Leah Williamson might be one of those rare people who looks more attractive when they’re amused. Most people, in your experience, become grotesque when they’re laughing, all exposed gums and teeth that are never as straight as they should be. But her face lights up in a way that suggests she doesn’t find the world half as disappointing as you do.

“And what face have you been making?” she asks, leaning in a little closer, and you catch a whiff of her perfume—something that’s probably advertised with shots of people running through fields of lavender, but on her, it smells like trouble.

You gesture vaguely. “It’s somewhere between ‘bored out of my skull’ and ‘I can’t believe I’m not getting paid for this’”

“I’ll have to try that one,” she says, glancing over at Lord Farnsworth, who seems to have set his sights on you again, the poor man. “But I’ll need some pointers”

“First, you need to perfect the art of the disinterested nod,” you say, demonstrating. “Like you’re listening, but you’ve also just remembered you left the oven on”

She mimics you, and it’s terrible, but you applaud her effort anyway.

“Close enough,” you say. “Next, you have to practice the well-timed yawn. Not too obvious, but just enough to suggest you’ve heard all this before”

She pretends to yawn, and it’s so exaggerated that a few people around you turn to look.

“Subtlety is key,” you remind her.

“I’ll work on it,” she says, her grin widening as though she’s actually enjoying herself now, which is against all logic.

“And finally,” you say, feeling suddenly bold, “you have to perfect the getaway”

“The getaway?”

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at Lord Farnsworth, who is now being temporarily distracted by some poor woman in pearls. “Like this”

You grab her by the arm and start walking, weaving your way through the crowd with the precision of someone who has been doing this their whole life. She doesn’t resist, though she does give you a curious look as you lead her past your father, who is deep in conversation with someone equally dull.

You find yourself in the courtyard, where the air is cooler and the moon is doing its best impression of a romantic comedy backdrop. Leah stops and looks up at the sky, as though she’s surprised to find it there.

“Nice,” she says, and you can’t tell if she’s talking about the view or the escape route.

“Much better than listening to Lord Farnsworth,” you say, and she turns to you with that smile again, the one that’s starting to feel dangerously like an invitation.

“So,” she says, as if continuing a conversation you didn’t know you were having, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The question is so cliché it should make you cringe, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and you find yourself saying, “I’m here because I lost a bet with Satan”

She chuckles, a low rumble in her chest that makes you feel like you’ve won something. “And what did you bet on?”

“That I could get through this evening without wanting to jump into traffic,” you say, and she laughs again, this time a little louder.

“I think you lost that bet the moment you saw the guest list,” she says, and you nod in agreement.

“So what about you?” you ask, genuinely curious now. “Why are you here?”

“Because I was invited,” she repeats, but this time, there’s something else in her tone, something that makes you think she’s not just talking about the gala.

You want to ask her what she means, but you don’t. Instead, you reach out and take her hand, surprising both of you.

“Let’s make another bet,” you say, feeling a strange kind of thrill, like you’re standing on the edge of something.

“What kind of bet?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s a glint in them that makes you think she’s game.

“That we can get through the rest of this evening without wanting to jump into traffic,” you say, squeezing her hand just a little.

She considers this for a moment, then grins. “You’re on”

And just like that, the evening shifts. The gala, the people, the expectations—they all fade into the background as you and Leah step into something that feels suspiciously like possibility.

You don’t know where this is going, but for the first time in a long time, you’re excited to find out. And maybe, just maybe, you’re willing to risk wearing nude tights for her. But only if you lose the bet.

[thekissofaphrodite]

Ms. Paramour

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Nike!Reader

Summary: Capture the flag might have been your favourite game after what happened between you and clarisse.

Warnings: Kissing, Shy, and Lovesick Clarisse <33

Author's note: THERE WAS THIS SWEET PERSON WHO ASKED FOR A CLARISSE FF WHERE THE READER PINNED CLARISSE DOWN DURING CAPTURE THE FLAG AND THEY STARTED KISSING, I WAS ABOUT TO REPLY TO THAT REQUEST BUT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT. WHOEVER THAT WAS IM SO SORRY IF WASN'T ABLE TO REPLY TO YOUR REQUEST!!

——

Clarisse La Rue was a bitch.

You can't really describe how much you hate her, not after she embarrassed you at camp years ago. You were a newbie, Before your godly parent, Nike, had claimed you, Clarisse and her little gang had bullied you relentlessly. It all started when your first three months at camp came by, and you were sitting at the mess hall, chewing your food, and daydreaming about your godly parent and what they look like.

Then, a group of campers from the ares cabin (Clarisse's half siblings) handed you a pair of gloves, it was a beautiful pair of gloves, It fits you perfectly, They told you that you can use it once the games had started. It was the very first time someone was kind to you, that's why you accepted it happily, and admired It.

Suddenly, Clarrise and her gang grabbed you, Their grips were tight, they then dragged you all the way to the lake, before they could throw you, They snatched the gloves the kind campers gave you and threw you into the lake. The water was freezing cold.

You gasped and resurfaced, Clarisse and her gang laughed, Just before they were about to leave, Clarisse's eyes caught yours for a moment.

——

You adjusted your blue helmet for the 5th time, the irritating smell of copper filling your nose, making you scrunch your nose in disgust.

Luke and Annabeth then appeared behind you, With their swords at hand, They were discussing the plan before Chiron announced the game.

"Am I clear?" Annabeth asked, Luke nodded and shot you a glance. You were peaking near the trees, trying to take a look at Clarisse who was currently yelling at her teammates.

Annabeth cleared her throat and Luke nudged you, you snapped out of your thoughts a nodded.

——

"Let the games begin" Chiron's voice boomed as Campers let out a cry on the field.

The reds were first to attack, their swords and shields clashed with the blues, The Ares campers were taking the lead, Making blue campers fall one by one.

You then sneaked away, slowly going to the base of the reds, You managed to fight off some campers before eventually reaching the point of the red team.

Clarisse stood proudly and confidently near the flag, her electric spear ready in hand and her posture ready to attack, you snuck up behind her before jumping at her, You wrapped your arms around her neck and made her fall, She groaned, Her helmet was now on the ground, revealing her well kept hair, She turned around swiftly, ready to attack, but you could've sworn you saw her eyes soften the moment she saw you, Nevertheless, She hurled her spear towards you, But you dodged it easily.

"You've got guts, Y/n" She whispered, She then attacked again, but this time, you managed to kick her feet and made her lose balance, You immediately went on top of her pining her with all your strength. Clarisse was now under you, Her breath was ragged, the red and blue helmet you two once wore were now on the ground, You met her eyes and it darted on your pink lips.

You didn't know what you were doing, Hell, Why is this even happening? Without thinking, you slammed your lips against hers, She immediately wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you closer, The kiss clarisse returned was much more hungrier, as if this were her starving days.

Clarisse let out a soft moan, followed by a soft bite on your lower lip, Feeling the need to breath, you were the first one to pulled away, still panting heavily without saying a word, A string of saliva still connected you two.

She was the first one to break the silence.

"I love you," She blurted out. "Then, you smiled, a sincere one that made her melt.

Now, Clarisse La Rue, that terrifying daughter of Ares who could kill anyone with just one look, was blushing, actually blushing.

You never knew, But Clarisse La Rue, Secretly had a crush on you the moment you stepped inside Camp Half Blood.

——

After seeing you with those cursed gloves that her halfsiblings gave you, Clarisse's eyes went red with fury.

Clarisse gripped her half sibling, Jill's hair tightly, Almost pulling it out of her scalp, Jill was the one who asked the Hecate cabin to lend her some powder that can cause any parts of your body burn like hell, After knowing that. Clarisse had enough.

She pushed Jill to the wall, Her other half siblings cowering with fear, Clarisse pulled threw the gloves at Jill's face, No one saw clarisse THIS mad, If looks could kill, Jill would be 6 feet deep with maggots entering in and out of her skin.

"You did this? huh? Do you know how injured she could be if the poison in those cursed gloves you gave her spread? SHE COULD END UP DEAD." Screamed Clarisse. Jill was now crying, apologising profusely. The reason why she threw you into the lake is to prevent the poison from spreading.

Not even 30 minutes inside the ares cabin, Clarisse left with her little gang, Her halfsiblings bruised with purple marks and blood.

Clarisse never hated you, All the things she had ever done was to save you from those bullies.

Like that one time that she 'accidentally' bumped into you while you were holding a plate of blueberry cheesecake from the mess hall. Some brats from the Hephaestus cabin had the audacity to secretly add dead insects without you nothing, She made you fall so that you can't eat those nasty things, As you left the mess hall with a frown, she shot the hephaestus children with a glare that sent them away.

——

After that heated kiss, You got up and kissed clarisse again, with a wink, she gestured at the red flag, You smiled and grabbed the flag, Screaming in joy as you called the blue Team. For the first time, the red team watched, Horrified, as Clarisse stood in the middle of the battlefield, smiling widely as the blue team swayed the red team's flag.

But if they knew what really happened, they would definitely be in their right minds judging her.

Ms. Clarrise La Rue, The Paramour.

A paramour is a lover, and often a secret one you're not married to. So it's best not to kiss and make eyes at your paramour in public unless you want to be the centre of a lot of gossip.

A/N:

I DID MY BEST. I DO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS. THIS WAS REQUESTED BY SOMEONE, BUT I FORGOT WHO 😔🤞🤞🤞

[blueboybot]

In Your Cold Dead Arms

I don't care! I need to show yall one of my weird pairs.

Twigs and dry leaves snapped under feet that were in a hurry, wind blowing violently enough to feel as though it was one more step from uprooting trees and flinging them carelessly about with its strong might. Rain droplets fell from the dark and cloudy sky, rapid rainfall increasing with every droplet that hit skin and cloth, each one harsher than the other.

Some might find struggle with this kind of weather condition but for him it was way nicer than dealing with someone who could manipulate the weather at will. Luckily for him it was simply an act of nature, no powerful foe was attacking him and he could appreciate that once he got out of said rain.

As he ran his eyes continued to look out for shelter, something he could only hope to find in an area like this. More trees and plants overtook his vision, his temper starting to flare as rain fell even harder, almost feeling as if it were lashing him. Thunder boomed from above and lightening soon followed after, clouds lit up and illuminated the area for a few seconds.

On que, lightening striked next to a tree he was close to making him instinctively dodge out of the way. The tree took major damage, its base split in two and some of its green leaves burnt black. Fire appeared for a quick second before immediately being quelched by the rain. However with the destruction of the tree he was able to see a path, and further in the distance some kind of structure.

With the discovery of shelter he headed straight for the building, his legs picking up speed with the promise of soon being out of rain. Getting closer he saw that the structure was a mansion, an abandoned mansion at that. Not one to be picky he pushed open the gates with overgrown vines, finding them unlocked and bolted straight towards the front door, ready to use his body to force it open only to find out it was also unlocked and opened when his hand pushed on it.

Entering the mansion his first red flag came when he laid his eyes on the interior of the place. It was much nicer on the inside than the outside, the floors were clean and shiny, a chandelier lit up with flames hung high from the ceiling, red carpet and wooden decorations greeted him from where he could see them. Overall, the mansion gave off the vibes that it was well kept and that meant he may have just broke into someone's home.

"HELLO, IS ANYONE HERE?"

He expected someone to come rushing out of a door, cursing him or attacking him for entering their home as an unwated guest but he got nothing.

"Please tell me I didn't walk into some kind of haunted house." He mumbled.

Arsenal stood near the entrance door, wiping his boots on the mat and trying to dry himself with the warmth of a nearby candle. He tried to contact the team but something was blocking his signal, so for now he was stuck here until the rain stopped, but judging from the sounds outside that may take a while. He himself think back to how he got into this situation in the first place.

They were flying in the bioship when they got attacked, while trying to manuver through the air the ship got hit and plunged into the sea. He remembered exiting the bioship to look at the damage, only to be swept away by a current that appeared out of nowhere. He ended up on a beach and tried to contact the others but his communicator didn't work. Leaving the beach to explore the rest of the island storm coulds appeared, then it started raining so he ran to find shelter. Now, he was here in mansion that may or may not be haunted.

With a hesitant first step he continued to explore the mansion, going up the long steps that lead to the second floor. Turning left he was met with a hallway, dark brown with a few candles lighting up the way from which they were positioned from each door. Peaking inside, he saw a room with the same dark brown wood, but this time there were elegant designs carved into some of the walls, soft looking chairs and a rug lay in the center surrounded by bookshelves on the wall, a window showcasing the rainy outside world.

The sound of something falling against the floor in another room caught his attention. He whipped out his bow and readied an arrow, cautiously, he drew nearer toward the sound, stopping infront of the third room on the right that was slightly open. Slowly, he pushed open the door back, coming to halt when he saw nothing but furniture covered in white sheets.

He didn't lower his bow though, and his theory of something being in here was proven correct when movement came from a sheet close to the window. Arsenal stepped closer, arrow aimed directly at what he assumed was its head, whatever is under there could be dangerous for all he knows and he wasn't taking anymore chances. He wasn't about to lose another arm or any other limbs for that matter.

The rustling stopped and the sheet pulled back, revealing the face of someone that was definitely close in age to him. Hair so dark as if it was trying to mimic the void of space looked wet, strands clinging to their forehead. Freckles dusted over their cheeks and nose like they were carefully placed by the gentlest of hands. Blue eyes stared at the bow and then him, looking at him with a hint of curiousity only to turn to fear a second later at remembering that there was a weapon very close to their face.

Those blue eyes intrigued the red head. They were unlike any blue he had seen before, mesmerizing in a way, tempting him into their hypnotic trance. Looking away was becoming more of a challenge the longer he continued seeing into something so enchanting. They reminded him of the ice and a burning blue star. So out of this world that he swore his body was beginning to tingle as those eyes gaze back into him. He was locked in a view so breathtaking that the word did little justice to describe how he felt as he stared.

His trance was broken when the teen scrambled away from him, hitting hard against the underwall of the window, and likely hurting his back if the way he winced was anything to go by. The other boy quickly got up an moved to side, hitting his head into a piece of covered furniture that reverberated with a clang sound.

Aresenal winced, deciding he needed to step in and do something before the teen knocked himself out while trying and failing to get away from him.

"Easy easy!" He put away his bow and arrow, looking at the boy on the floor with his hands up to come across less dangerous "I'm not going to hurt you, I was just curious as to why I heard a noise coming from this room."

The teen looked at him with those blue eyes, accessing him to see if he was lying. He must of taken a gamble and decided to somewhat believe he meant no harm because the boy rose to his feet once again, looking at him with slight caution now.

"Do you live here?"

"No, I was trying to escape the rain and came across this abandoned mansion." He replied, looking away from Roy and opting to stare at the carpet.

"Got a shy one." Roy thought looking over the boy and his body language.

His clothes looked a little too big for him. A white t-shirt with short red sleeves and an oval pattern in the middle, black cargo pants, and red shoes with white lacing. There was also a metalic looking wristband the boy wore on his left hand. Overall, Arsenal took him for a pretty boy who wasn't used to these sorts of situations, one who doesn't do much except for sit in quiet with the popular kids and have everything handed to him without much of a resistance from other teachers or students.

"So do you have a name or do I just call you boy?" Roy asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"I'm not a child!"

Oh he was going to have fun with this one.

Roy's face split into a grin as he waited for the boy to reply. The other teen rolled his eyes at him.

"My name is Danny." Danny looked him up and down, "Did you just come from a cosplay party or something?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm Arsenal!"

This time Danny raised an eyebrow at him.

"Protégé of Green Arrow."

The boy's face remained the same as Roy's changed.

"Part of the Young Justice team."

Still no look of recognition.

"The Justice League."

"I literally don't have a clue on what any of those are, is it like some kind of sports team?"

"How do you not know the Justice League?"

"I'm from a small town, a lot of outside media doesn't get through to us." The boy mumbled something with a hint of annoyance at the end.

Roy groaned in frustration, putting his hands up to his masked face. He silently wondered if he was going to have to tell pretty boy here about the existance of aliens and meta-humans.

"Woah!" He heard the boy exclaim, feet that barely made a sound ran up to him. "Cool arm!" Roy spread his arms apart from his face to look at him, seeing that the boy's focus was entirely on his prosthetic.

"What kind of lights did you buy for this?"

" Lights? What no— This is how it is." He growled out the last part, remembering what Lex did still left a sour taste in his mouth.

"No. Way!" Danny's eyes seemed to sparkle with awe. "Can I touch it, please?"

Roy let the other teen poke at his arm, watching as fascination filled those blue eyes. The only other person that showed this much interest in his arm was Bart and the little menace would always ask to look at it or try to wrestle him, resulting in him always winning because there was no chance of him losing to someone with those kind of arms.

"This is amazing, can you wiggle your fingers for me?" Roy did just that and watched as a smile etched onto the boy's face.

"INCREDIBLE! The black metal, the desgin, everything was made to fit you. But, I bet I could do a way better job."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"My parents are inventors and scientist, I obviously picked up a thing or two from being around their equipment for so long." Danny placed his two hands on the prosthetic, providing Roy with the knowledge that he was two inches taller than Danny.

The vigilante catalogued the information given to him for later. Even if Danny meant him no harm that didn't mean he trusted him right away, sue him, but the other's parents being scientist that built enough inventions for Danny to alledgedly make his own made him wary.

"You're not a bad cosplayer." Danny said, leaning his head against the metalic arm while looking at Roy.

Those too blue eyes pierced his soul. Danny had to be a meta or alien of some kind, there was no other explanation for his eyes.

"It's not a cos—"

*SCREECH*

An unholy noise screamed out, sounding like a high pitched call and simultaneously a warning from whatever creature it came from.

Roy quickly grabbed Danny by the waist and pushed the boy behind him, shielding him as he armed himself once again.

[ynsbarbbb]

tell me you love me | l. norris

hypothesis - on days like these, where everything just seems to go wrong, the uttered words from your boyfriend is the only cure.

pairing - lando norris x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “tell me you love me” by demi lovato]

“i need someone on days like this, i do”

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” you groan as your car’s engine died, right at the turn of the finish line. right at the turn of qualifying for the miami grand prix.

“come on, come on,” practically begging the car, trying to see if you could just get it back to life, to salvage the last bit of your pride that’s hanging on by a damn thin thread.

slamming your hands on the wheel, “son of a bitch!”

“lost power,” you sigh into your ear piece, defeated. laying your head on your hands that rested in the steering wheel.

this is really just what you needed.

another layer of cake on your already shitty day.

first the argument you had with lando this morning, really, about something so imbecile silly that you can actually laugh about it right now. running late, missing your shoe, bumping your hip on the counter - sure to leave a nasty bruise and lando not wanting to get out of the bed.

silly, right?

and now this.

“what happened?” zac questioned, concerned. the car was perfectly fine yesterday, practically soaring all over the track. you were sure that you’d start first pole by how the car roared.

“you fucking tell me,” you didn’t mean to be so harsh. zac’ question just scratched that itchy irritable spot that has been bothering you, all day.

zac sighed, not commenting on your response, sensing how it’ll make the situation worse.

knowing that if he said anything about your starting pole, which you already definitely knew, you’d blow your head.

smart man.

“sending tow, stay there.”

like you’d be going any fucking where.

~~

a coffee. that’s what you needed. a strong one at that.

with your suit arms tied around your hips you walk the way of the holy grail, not really observing your surroundings and stumbling straight into the blistering coffee cup of one of mclaren’s mechanics.

the liquid seeping through your shirt, burning your skin. his cup falling to the ground and shattering in hundreds of little pieces.

“y/n,” the mechanic was quick to react, grabbing napkins that rested on the edge of the table, dabbing at the material, pressing into your now third degree burn.

why didn’t you pay attention? why where you so wrapped up in your head?

why?

“just leave it,” hissing, you swatted the napkin from his hand, you take the route back to your room. the ceramic pieces crunching under your shoes.

with a hand pressed to your head, you can already feel the lump forming in your throat, eyes burning as tears well up behind your eyes. you bite your lip, you won’t succumb to today, you won’t show your white flag just yet.

you won’t acknowledge the pitying looks from everyone on your team.

you won’t acknowledge the murmurs on the paddock of mclaren’s worst starting pole.

you won’t acknowledge the desire you feel to be wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms.

you just won’t.

another, beautiful layer of cake stacked.

~~

“really?” you whine as you pat your pockets, looking for the keycard that’s used to unlock the door, but it comes out empty.

damn zac for changing the locks. damn the security protocol.

you left, or more like forgot, it at home. on the counter, where you usually leave it. your shoulders sag and with your back turned to the door you glide down it. arms wrapped around your knees and head rested on it.

here it comes, the wall to the well finally comes crashing down and the first tear rolls down your cheek landing on the coffee stain.

you finally hoist your white flag, today won.

a pretty red cherry on top of your stacked cake. a delicious topping.

“there you are,” a muppet voice says, breaking you from the train of thoughts that’s currently speeding down the tracks in your mind.

you look up, and lando is peeping around the corner of the wall.

on every other day you would’ve laughed at the sight.

your lip trembles and a new wave of tears wells up behind your eyes. lando makes quick work to scramble towards you, crouching down in front of you.

“hey, hey, no, none of that,” he’s gentle. he brought his hands up to your face, wiping the stray tears that ran down your face. you lean into his touch, and finally, something that feels right for today.

“turn that frown upside down,” he says in a sing song voice, a smile creeping onto his lips. the gaps in his teeth more than welcoming.

you bite on your bottom lip, the corners of your mouth slightly lifting.

but lando takes that as a success nonetheless.

“there she is, my beautiful girl.”

a sob like snort leaves your mouth and lando can’t keep that muppet laugh of his in any longer.

hair that fell around your face, he pushed it behind your ears, “rumour has it that someone is having one hell of a day.”

you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your shirt, “really? who is it? max?”

“ah, sarcasm, it’s welcoming,” lando jokes.

rolling your eyes you look at his, wispy lashes, a light shade of red tint on the apples of his cheeks, “just tell me you love me, norris.”

“i love you.”

he leans closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you,” a kiss to your brow.

“i love you,” a kiss to your cheek.

“i love you,” a kiss on your nose.

“i love you,” a final kiss to your lips.

“i love you.”

fin.

[mixingandmelting]

Flag Check HC Sabbath Ver.

Summary: type of romantic flag when around their crush

Wooin: Red Flag 🚩 (obviously)

Tends to be extra freaky where he’s wanting to keep all your attention to himself and leave others to think that you two are a package (as that is his ultimate goal)

Unapologetically, vocally flirty and unfiltered when he “bumps” into you when you’re out and about, enjoying all the expressions you make because they’re funny and extremely cute. His favorite so far is flushing from embarrassment and the one filled with dread and annoyance when he gets there and act filthy on spot

Always physically attached to you, walking right beside you where shoulders are brushing, arm either around your shoulders, waist, or arm. Surprisingly does not want to hold hands because he wants to do it when he finally gets to go out with you

Certified social media stalker if you have one, so he’s up to date with the things you like and dislike. Uses the info he collects to get you things when he gives you a heads up for once that’s he’s coming over or inviting you to eat out

He’s possessive and does not like it at all when others get too close to you. When it happens he’s being a jerk, getting under the other person’s skin under the context he’s kidding around when he’s subtly dropping signs. Even better when they’re hot heads and ends up picking a fight against him since they won’t have a chance with you and he has an excuse let out the steam he held back

If they don’t get the hint or chooses to still focus on you, he ends up threatening them to screw off behind your back whether it’s the second you step away for a moment or finding them after you leave

Hyuk: Red Flag 🚩(literally are we going to forget what happened in chapters 502, 506-508? When Wooin says once he's interested in someone no one can stop him?)

Seems laid-back and listless but actually the quieter and more scheming version of Wooin where he plans to leave the impression you guys are actually going out

Does the “coincidentally” meeting you thing which he ends up accompanying you throughout the whole as if it’s natural and you don’t notice what had just happened until the end

Purposely pushes your buttons and tease you unexpectedly, enjoying your reactions 

It happen when, if you’re the unpredictable type and challenge him with high stakes, usually having to do with loser having to do something for the winner, he’s really chatty from the excitement, his blood pumping from the thrill of competition

Likes to lean his head on your shoulder whenever he’s next to you, standing or sitting down

Also stalks your socials to get information on your current likes or dislikes so he knows what to send/give you given the moment and your mood

Especially with the fact he’s quick to notice how you’re feeling, the gifts he gets you are ones he knows that’ll cheer you up, celebrative, or appreciative. Essentially, all his gifts he gives are sent that are deemed appropriate on the current situation

Someone getting close to you is equivalent to them having a death wish. He acts as the grim reaper where  the other person trips over air in front of you in the most embarrassing way or they suddenly need to head somewhere else after you left them and Hyuk alone to get something

Joker/Hajun: Green Flag 

He is so soft and in love with you where he just wants to be with you in the normal, non-creepy way (cough Hyuk and Wooin)

Always is getting you something no matter the circumstance, whether it’s winning you a stuffed toy from the claw machine or getting you food from take-out or a bakery

Has a habit of petting your head or ruffling your hair whenever he thinks you’re cute or acting endearing. Time-to-time, he would place an apple or his newly-acquired puppy on your head when you’re feeling down

He’s very protective of you where he acts as bodyguard whenever he’s hanging out with you. Includes walking a step behind yet still close so he could react if something were to ever happen while keeping both your front and back safe

Even when he’s working out, playing with the puppy, or doing anything right beside you, his attention is completely towards you, actively listening to everything you’re saying

Helps you out with any manual tasks, especially with any heavy lifting. When he’s helping you with getting groceries, he’s carrying the bags. You’re moving and needing to carry boxes? He’s carrying them and placing them in the vehicle for you

When someone is too close to you, he’s extremely quiet and doesn’t get in between the two of you. It’s not because he’s shy but from holding back where his fists are clenched in his pockets or at his sides yet doesn’t want to do anything that scares you

If the person had ill intentions, he lets loose and ends up beating the crap out of them behind your back. If not, he’s releasing the pent up frustration on the ring so RIP to his opponent on those days

Vinny: Green Flag 

He’s extremely stiff and quiet because he has no experience with having a crush, so he doesn’t know what to do

Contrary to his personality, he is extremely jumpy from being hyper-aware of everything when he’s around you. Your voice, your hair, your very presence that’s right next to him - he’s trying to absorb everything of you and engrave it in his mind that even the birds that innocently chirp are a distraction

It’s also from that when there’s accidental physical touch he freezes on spot, not expecting the feeling of warmth and softness of your skin grazing against his

He acts nonchalant but tries his best to mentally and emotionally support you where if it seems you’re holding back, he encourages you to vent/rant on him with a short-grunt along the lines of telling you to just say what’s in your mind

The gifts he usually gets you are small and are accessories such as keychains, phone charms or something useful with the theme that the mascot on them are ones that reminds him of you the most

If he finds out anything new about you, he keeps a mental note of it and remembers it where there are times he’s the one reminding you of things you need to do 

Someone getting too close to you? He instantly is on the edge, standing afar and brooding silently from inferiority complex working at its max and the fear that he could possibly hurt you from his current state clashes with the complex

He has no problems lashing out on spot if the person makes you uncomfortable despite being in front of you. If it’s not that, he would wait for the conversation to end and leave with you but he’s extremely off and quiet as he wouldn’t know how to act normal nor what to do in general

[zeltqz]

begging for a jealous/possessive hanma that catches someone hitting on his s/o

#—♱𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇♱—#

— syn : hanma doesn't like the fact someone's hitting on his girlfriend.

— cw : nsfw content ahead ⚠︎ - deranged!hanma, death threats, choking, possessiveness, hanma refers to you as his, he almost kills a guy for you, red flag but its shuji so its ok <3

— length : 900 words

— a/n : i love my little red flag lmao. also i listened to house of ballons while writing this so its linked under the title if u wanna listen too lol

“Come onnnnnnn. You’re too pretty to be acting like this.” The man nudged you playfully, inching impossibly closer to your sitting form. “At least tell me yer name beautiful.”

You sighed exhaustedly and raised your glass back to your lips, taking a sip of your water. As you swallowed the liquid, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Yup, he looked like your typical wannabe punk. Someone that thinks everybody and their mamas are scared of in the streets. 

Before dating Hanma, you would’ve been scared of him. They’re known for their violence, threatening any person that dares to even walk past them on the street or look at them sideways. 

The crazed look in his eyes, the tongue piercing, the oddly dyed hair; wannabe punk. 

You put your drink down and motioned to the bartender to refill your cup of water. 

“I’m waiting girl. What’s yer name?” He was met with more silence. You could practically feel his irritation growing. “Stop being sucha bitch and just—”

“I have a boyfriend.” You thanked the bartender as he passed your cup back, filled with water. Taking another sip, you peeked over at him again from the corner of your eye, hoping to see him back away now that he knows the truth. 

But you forget who you’re messing with right now. 

“Boyfriend ? I don’t see a boyfriend. Oi!” He motioned over at the bartender, ushering him closer. Once the bartender got close enough, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and brought him closer. “Do you see a boyfriend around here?” The bartender stammered and stuttered, so he clicked his tongue irritatedly and looked back at you. “Is this your boyfriend? Hah?”

You shook your head, remaining utterly calm. “Nope.”

“Exactly.” His voice sounded amused, as if he’d proved you wrong. “What kind of boyfriend would let ya walk outside wearing this, huuuuh?”

You could feel his fingers trailing along your thigh and closed your eyes, counting to ten in your head. In the midst of your counting, his touches got more bold, trailing them up towards the slope of your waist, up and down your arm. 

By the time you got to seven, you gave him three more seconds to get his hands off you, giving him the benefit of the doubt until the touches suddenly stopped.

You opened your eyes and looked to your left to see a long arm wrapped around the mans shoulder, the kanji sin tattooed big on his palm and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Is there a reason you’re groping my girlfriend, hmm?” Hanma’s voice was sickly sweet and the man went red in the face. 

“No! No reason. Just mistook her, that’s all.” He smiled, showing all his teeth, hoping Hanma would let him off easy. 

“Mistook her?” Hanma hummed, confused. “Baby, did this man mistake you for anyone?”

You looked him deep in the eye for a second and fought back the urge to laugh when his lip started trembling, hoping and pleading in his eyes that you’d lie for him. “Not really. He actually even questioned your existence, Shuji.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.” You grinned and watched the full fear sprout on his face.

“She’s lyin—” The hand resting on his shoulder quickly moved to his throat, squeezing until you saw veins forming down the length of his arm. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to calm the roaring pulse between your legs as you watched your boyfriend currently choking the fuck out of your harasser, all with a calm smile on his face.

“Don’t kill him Shuji.”

He winked and squeezed a little more until he went red in the face, his eyes threatening to pop out of his skull.

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let go. He’s not worth it Shuji.”

“He touched what’s mine. Death would be the easy way out for him.” As if to prove his point, he began squeezing tighter and you knew if you didn’t stop him, you’d see the light in his eyes slowly fade. 

The chair squeaked as you slid off it and walked up to your boyfriend. “Shuji. Let go. He’s not worth it,” you repeated, voice a little firmer. 

Shuji had a deadpan look on his face as he stared at you, as if examining how serious you were. If he were to kill him right now, cleanup wouldn’t be an issue, your attitude would be. You’d stop talking to him for at least a week and ignore all his advances which would piss him the fuck off. 

“You’re so fucking lucky I want some pussy tonight,” Shuji said lowly in the man’s ear before letting go. 

The man dropped to the floor, coughing and holding his throat. 

You smiled and stepped over his crouched form, over to your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Love you Shu’.”’

“Mhm whatever.” He bent down to your level and kissed your lips. His hands gripped onto your waist, holding your tight and making you giggle into his lips. “Next guy that looks at you though, I won’t be so kind.”

[theyluvlyss]

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 & 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲...

my head is all but consumed with thoughts only of wade wilson, logan howlett, and remy lebeau. they're all I can process in my head (besides shazam, but that's a given considering no one loves shazam the way I do, so🤷🏽‍♀️) and I y e a r n desperately for an influx in "wade x y/n x logan" fics and the "remy x y/n" fics... dare I even ask, humbly ofc, hear me out... for a splash of "wade x y/n x remy". genuinely, I'd kill for some of that ngl.

and I bet you're wondering, "lyssa, why not do it yourself🤔?"

short answer: I am swamped with requests, and even if I wasn't, I'm not ready yet lmao I fear I do not possess the skills to capture them in my writing perfectly😔 ... yet😈.

in the meantime, tho *😈evil little laughter😈* may I plz suggest the following prompts and pairings to and for anybody willing to work with them or wanting ideas (begging any writers that see this to please write these and tag me plz plz plz plz plz 😭🙏🏽😃plzplzplzplzplzplzplzpl-)...

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

⚠️trigger and content warning btw lol -

mentions of fighting/violence/bloodshed, death, gore, (like c'mon,,, bffr, look at who you're reading about😐🤨), anxiety/panic attacks, harsh words/themes/elements/physical injuries, abuse and/or negelct, separation anxiety, mental disorders, brief mention of sickness/illness, drugs (just 🍃 and painkillers), age gap (nothing illegal, chill out🤨✋🏽), use of a derogatory term (not used in a negative sense tho lol), and some semi-common smut themes that I won't list here, but be wary if that stuff makes you uncomfortable :)♡. also, these are all under the pretense that the reader is a cis girl, she/her/hers pronouns (so ig you could think of this as one, big, mass request to all writers willing from me lol🤭🥴🫶🏽).

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 :

- reader having a panic/anxiety attack and ofc being comforted (causes my vary; maybe right after a fight/battle, or because of over-worrying or too much pressure, maybe after a fight with another loved one, etcetc). definitely wanna see this with all three of them, but separately, tho. like, one fic or list of "preferences/headcannons" for logan, one for wade, and then one for remy.

- near death or death (followed by resurrection swift after). it could be reader almost dies or dies (then gets resurrected, get creative with it/how, fr, yk?) or the reverse; the POI (person of interest) dies, although given two of the three's abilities, y'all might have to get creative if you want it to translate for logan and/or wade so this one would be mainly for a remy x reader.

- I personally love a good "POI says sumn mean/outta pocket, hurts reader's feels, stuff happens idk, but they eventually kiss and make up" trope. I'd eat that up, especially cuz OHHH,,,, wade taking a joke or playful argument or something too far? logan being a little too mean/angsty to you for comfort?? remy saying something that gets lost in translation, so it comes out harsher than intended??? 😫😫😫‼️‼️ AND IF YOU WANNA GET MESSY WIT IT, RUNNING TO ONE OF THE OTHER THREE FOR COMFORT🙈🙈⁉️⁉️⁉️.

- a classic; reader getting injured (mildly or worse, doesn't matter), needing to be taken care of, but is stubborn about it?? always a good one.

- getting a little crazy and silly here, but I like a good "abusive and/or negelctful ex/current partner" trope. like hell yeah, one of you big, strong men get over here and save me, whisk me away and show me what I really deserve😻‼️. NOT romanticizing/glorifying it obvs, like no, I mean that wade, logan, and/or remy would not be the red flags in this scenario, they're the one(s) doing the saving FROM the red flag ex/current partner lol.

- getting a little crazier and sillier with this one, but one where reader gets snatched up🙂? oouuuu, miss girl got kidnapped?! once again, somebody come save me, and if "somebody" is not wade, logan, and/or remy, then don't bother, I don't want it. matter of fact, just gon' on ahead and leave me, I'll figure it out myself🙂✌🏽. I think I'd want these separate, actually, bc I wanna take in the individuality of their reactions, like,,, logan going feral?? pretty predictable tbh lmao but still hot. remy?? idek ngl, y'all gon' have to figure him out. BUT WADE BEING SERIOUS AND NOT AS TALKATIVE FOR ONCE UNTIL HE KNOWS YOU'RE SAFE???? OOOHOOHOOOOOOO, GIMMIE🖐🏽👹🖐🏽✊🏽👹✊🏽!!!

- ig this could be put in the panic/anxiety attack category, but I also feel like this might be it's own separate thing, so idk, but... separation anxiety on reader's part. whatever the circumstances may be to breed it, reader is just (not in a unhealthy way) attached to the POI(s), so them leaving for whatever reason is pretty hard on her (and the POI(s), too, because hello, they don't wanna make their reader upset, but things gotta get done fr yk😫🥲),,, lots of reassurance, comforting, and maybe distractions ensue??

- reader with an alter ego/inner beast, whether that be a result of her powers or a mental disorder (think like,,, split personality or maybe DID or something like that, but I do wanna say, if you're gonna go the mental route, make sure you do your research so that you're representing it - not only accurately - but you're not dehumanizing or dumbing it down as well) or just anything that would cause the reader to, as I said, have a different side of themself,,, werewolf type deal, yk? "normal" for the most part, but then has her moments where she be on demon time and then when she's back to herself, she's just like "???" while everyone else is like "!!!". I suppose this could then be followed up/solved with a "the sun's getting real low" typa thing/moment from the POI(s), but that's neither here nor there, do what feels right fr♡.

- reader (just barely) escapes cassandra nova??? that could be cool (a.k.a. very, very angsty bc surely the encounter has messed the reader alllll the way up both mentally and physically, especially knowing what typa timing cass be on lmao😃). love a good hurt/comfort, I can't get enough, actually. this one (given the movie context) may or may not work with wolvie and/or pool (again, up to the writer to get creative), but gambit?? he's been in the void his whole life, he knows cass, sooo it'd make more sense for him to have a higher understanding of the situation in full, but do what y'all want, I'm just the idea woman🤷🏽‍♀️.

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 :

- morning cuddles and softeness and ughghfhfhdjd♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!! and then the opposite, night/bedtime cuddles and softness and uugjfjdkwkfke♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!!

- height difference teasings and shenanigans. we can always stick to the classics, ofc, short reader, tall wade, logan, and/or remy. maybe its an advantage in fights - fast, lethal, and small + big, shielding, and strong - but sucks in more domestic/calm cases like reaching for shit on the top shelf or wanting to kiss somebody. but I'd also love some tall gworl reader type shit, miss strong, lean, runway model energy, stepping on any heads and wooing any men that are in her path🥴😻. bending down with a smile so she can hear him, mindlessly playing with his hair, occasionally makes a quip here and there on the difference without thinking lol and he haaaaateeees all of it (but he looooveeeessss all of it🤭).

- reader being THAT GIRL, literally being in a 1v26 or sumn crazy like that and she's just kicking ass and shit the whole time, and then there's the POI(s),,, gawking and in love like "damn that's MY GIRL fr\😻/!!".

- *imagine a vine boom after every bolded word, okay, go* teen/minor/young PLATONIC NONSEXUAL NONROMANTIC (literally I can not stress this enough) NOT DATING AT ALL EVER reader and one/two/all of them. I think it'd just be silly seeing them (wade, logan, and or remy) working/paired with/having a bond with this little gremlin yet sweetheart of a reader who's somehow able to tolerate/put up with/ignore/maybe even indulge in their craziness lmfao. maybe just as or is even more crazy than they are, chaotic and desensitized type shit. you could even get ansgty with it, have this teen reader need saving or something like that, yk?

- sparring match and reader BEATS POI(s) in said spar cuz she's cool, awesome, and mega baller like that. lots of tension and goofiness, especially from the reader, cuz she knows damn well she's the shit. or, a different route!!... total dumb luck that she beat him/both/all of them, and is very obviously playing it off/acting like she won on purpose lmfao, cockiness ensuing.

- can't go wrong with a sick-fic lol. who doesn't wanna be taken care of?

- reader needs/wears glasses🤷🏽‍♀️. it can be the discovery of actually needing them, reader always squinting tryna read/see shit, or nearly getting herself in and out of danger bc again, she blind lmao. or it's just the case of reader never wears them out and about, but in calmer moments (where she doesn't run the risk of breaking them) she'll put them on, so she decides to bust 'em out one day and it's just the POI(s) being like ":O...😻😻!!".

- *olivia rodrigo voice* JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY, YEAA-aAAH😫😫‼️ ... reader who just,,, she don't play that shit, man, lmfao it's called you can prove yourself either friend or foe,,, stay tf away from my man or get your ass beat. pick one. and it's the POI(s) just absolutely flattered and amused with this energy from reader lmfao, reassurance ensuing quick after ofc. or, if you wanna get silly with it (and by silly, I mean violent♡), reader with a girl who can't take a hint😀 *eye twitch* so she finally makes shit clear one way or another (one way; does sumn with the POI(s) that makes the girl uncomfortable so she fucks off. another; reader pretty much beats that girl up and it's the POI(s) laughing but also trying to pry reader off of her cuz "stop it, I'm yours, I promise, you don't have to kill her, she didn't know any better😭!"). or just completely switch it up, vice versa, role-reversal POI(s) get jelly and it's reader having to deal with whatever may happen after/due to the fact lol.

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 :

- shameless flirt reader!!!! she's not obnoxious or out of character/proper timing with it, but definitely a reader with helllllaaaaa rizz. is mainly on some "is somebody gonna match my freak?" type shi. wade would find it very silly and he'd match the freak ofc. logan,,, maybe he'd start off annoyed by it, then get used to it, only realizing you've actually grown on him once you start to pull back a little/stop completely? REMY WOULD LOVE AND BE AMUSED BY IT, so all I'm gonna say here is this: rabbits🐇🥰. iykyk♡.

- a smoke sesh leading to some good, old fashioned high/sleepy sex🥰. that's it, that's the prompt♡.

- lord, free me from my sins🙏🏽, plz don't judge me y'all😔 ,,, age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

- that moment when reader is a whore and is actually literally prancing around without a care in the world, fucking three different guys (wade, logan, and remy obvs) because "they're hot lol" - not necessarily behind their backs - but no one's saying anything or telling her no, nor does anyone seem to have any issues with it/are opposed, sooo😗🤷🏽‍♀️.

- do y'all think,,, because wolverine is yk...wolf-like-ish-whatever.... do y'all think that he,,,, that maybe he goes thru... a rut🙂?? lmfaoGDHAKXKPQPRR okay that's enough, that's enough🥴✋🏽-.

- you know how some smut has certain labels/themes/tags that are gonna be, yk,,, in said smut?? well, cuz I'm out of any specific ideas for smut, I'm just gonna leave some here, m'kaaaay, and whatever y'all wanna dooooo is up to youuuu, just as long as I get to seeee😗☺️🫶🏽~...

⚠️ also don't say I didn't warn y'all, I mean, there's literally a whole ass trigger warning at the top, so do not start fckn trippin' because you disagree with me or saw sumn you don't fw, cuz tbh, I don't care and you can honestly block me if it's that serious♡.

dom-sub, daddy/praise/breeding/spanking kink, knife/gun/blood play (and/or just mutant/power ability play in general hehehe), food/wax play, cnc (I don't suggest full blown non-con seeing as none of them seem the type to do such, no matter the circumstances, plus it's just not my thing personally but hey, I'm not currently writing for pool, wolvie, or gambit rn, so that's up to whoever is🤷🏽‍♀️), hunter-prey (y'all might see this and immediately think wolvie, which is understandable fr, but I beg y'all to get creative and let remy and/or wade hunt reader down, it can be done and done right, I promise, plz, I need it, 😫PLEASE!!-), friends with benefits,,, OHHH ENEMIES with benefits🫢🫢!!, overstim, jealousy/possessive/yandere, unprotected/creampie/oral ... that's all that comes to mind lmao wow what a crazy note to end this on, anyways-

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

yeah, so, do with all of this what you will (and plz spread this around, I genuinely do wanna see these get written and myself tagged like I am PINING for these fic ideas to be turned into reality😭🙏🏽), I just had to get my thoughts out before I forgot (at least in the fanfic department), because if someone were to ask me my thoughts on the movie itself !!!!! OMG I could run my mouth forever, but I don't wanna do that (lazy) so lmao for now, that's all lol byeeee~ /ᐠ-˕-マ!!

[mistressmxggot]

Chapter 4- ✰ Funds Bigger Than Her Ego ✰

"𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲...𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗱. 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗢𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱. 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱."

Tags: Brothels, coercion, manipulation

~Your body buzzed violently. Angry bees seemed to shake under your skin, in your head. Blinking hurt. What had happened last night? Panic fell heavy into your chest. You were laying in the biggest bed you had ever seen, covered in warm, red sheets. This place was obviously not your bedroom.

Ambessa.

Oh god she had you in Piltover. She just took you?! You had to find a way back to the undercity. Was escaping her even possible? If you could make a plan, you could get out. Stumbling out the bed, you threw the curtains open. It didn't register at first. How do I get back to the Undercity? Then it hit you.

Oh my gosh. Oh no.

A horrific realization that felt bitter on your tongue came to you. You weren't in Piltover. The grey, industrial buildings that surrounded you spiked your anxiety. You examined the walls of the room, the floor, the decor.

You were in Noxus. Her home.

How?! How did she get you here that fast? It winded you to think how long you may have been passed out for. Correction, drugged and knocked unconscious by a seven foot, perverted psycho.

"Miss."

You whipped around in horror. Shrieking, you stumbled backwards and grabbed a lamp from the nightstand. The man stood unmoving, eyes closely watching your antics. His eyebrows raised as you lifted the lamp in some sort of pathetic self defense. Fear was stricken all over your face. You examined the man. He was just as intimidating as everything else in this place. He was surprisingly much taller than Ambessa. Nothing seemed to be bigger than Ambessa. His broad body covered in armor. His large, brown beard and mustache hiding his face. He held a large, menacing sword that only added to your fear. Your throat held a lump in it.

"Food is ready for you. Follow me."

Your stomach growled in response, but you weren't sure. He could leading you to a gruesome, slow death. Maybe you were the food. Maybe Ambessa would chop you up and serve you to all her rich friends and acquaintances. Rictus looked at your terrified face, slightly amused. You finally got the courage to speak.

"Where is Ambessa?"

Rictus cleared his throat. "Ms Medarda is currently away. She will return tonight."

You glared at him. "So she kidnapped me and now she doesn't even have decency to speak to me?" You were furious. How dare she?

Rictus' eyes stayed on you. He swallowed. "Ms Medarda has buisness to attend to. You will have enough time to speak to her."

You snarled. "I don't want yo talk to her, I want to kill her!" You whipped around, holding your head in your hands. This was the worst. It couldn't get any worse than this. Your head shot up in horror as you turned back towards Rictus. "Don't tell her I said that."

Rictus gave you a stale nod. "You have permission to visit the dining area. Please come."

He still stood there, unmoving. Even he seemed over this bullshit. At least she wasn't here, so you could eat somewhat in peace. Your body was still very much on edge. Ambessa wasn't the type of person for your to let your guard down around, even if she wasn't present.

"Alright." You looked up at him, eyes worried.

He nodded, heading towards the door. You meakly followed behind him. This place was severely massive. You had never seen anything like it. Even Piltover didn't seem this grand. Noxus made topside look like the Undercity. The ceilings seemed to go for miles. Red flags hung on different walls.

This place seemed to have everything. Giant, golden chandeliers, grand staircases at every turn, double doors leading into more giant rooms. Candles and lamps lighting up different corners of the room, a large animal print rug, and heavy furniture. There were many statues watching over the place. Gold and red scattered across palace, reflecting the royalty of the Medardas. The place felt warm at least. Still, It was large and bold, reflecting Ambessa and her personality. Everything around screamed royalty. You couldn't even imagine this place in your dreams. She was like...rich rich.

You frowned. This is what being a selfish warlord got you. Oh you hated her so bad. She embodied everything you despised. You sighed, angry and defeated. The two of you entered the dining room, which was of course like the rest of her house. A giant table spread through a large portion of the room, chairs surrounding it.

Rictus lead you to a spot, some sort of salad waiting for you. Your eyes twinkled at the sight. All it was was a simple salad, yet it's the best you've seen a meal look. It came with a side of chicken and a piece of bread. You quickly sat down, turning back to Rictus. "Thank you. Who should I thank for this meal?"

He looked at you. "You can thank Ms Medarda."

Your smile dropped. What a joke. You rolled your eyes. "No I mean like who made this, not who used their tons upon tons of money to pay someone else to make it."

Rictus stayed silent.

"Ugh fine. Tell her servants or her cooks or her personal chefs, thank you."

Rictus turned around, leaving you alone in the dining room. You scoffed. Thank her for what? She didn't do shit around this place. Some servant probably wiped her ass for her. Picking up your fork, you decided on taking what she gave you.

God, how did the lettuce even taste better? The bowl infront of you was empty before you could even think about what was happening. Nothing had fulfilled you like that. The chicken and bread satisfied just as well as the salad. Another luxury that added to the wound. Topside life really was that good. You couldn't say that you were angry at Ambessa for giving you this. That would be a lie. You had expected to be thrown into a dingy cell with barely any water. Instead, you had access to all of her luxuries. Well, almost all of her luxuries. You were kidnapped for God's sake. Getting too comfortable would be a big mistake. You figured you could leave after eating, as no one was really there to watch or guide you. You couldn't locate anywhere to put your dishes. It felt wrong to just leave your mess there, but she did have hundreds of servants. You figured someone would have to deal with it. It still felt incredibly wrong. Gosh you had no clue of the ways of the wealthy. With one last worried look at your dishes, you wandered out of the dining room.

You flinched as your eyes came in contact with Rictus. You two just looked at eachother.

He soon lead you back to your chambers without a word exchanged. Slumping in the bed seemed like the only option. Every drawer and closet had already been examined.

Worry weighed heavy on you. Every question possible seemed to pass through your mind. Ambessa was such an enigma. No decision of hers seemed to make sense. What was all of this for? You were a stripper and from the undercity. Everything seemed so wrong. Your worried thoughts dissapeared as you fell into slumber.

Soft knocks awoke you. "Come in." You shot up from the bed, completely forgetting your situation. The sight of Rictus eased your anxiety.

"Food is ready miss. Follow me."

Having dinner here sounded amazing. The softness of the blankets left your body as you headed towards him. Walking down the hall once more, you entered the dining room. Your eyes widened in horror. There was Ambessa, seated at the head of the table. Coincidentally, your plate was now moved two seats away from her. You couldn't move. Your captor sat, calm as could be, eating in your prison. Rictus' absence went unnoticed. Your body stayed in place, eyes focusing on her. A groan followed the sound of her fork hitting the plate.

"Are you going to sit? Or are you going to just watch me?"

You slowly approached your seat, her following eyes making you increasingly more uneasy. She went back to her plate after a long staring contest. You could only stare awkwardly at your plate. Hunger had since left you. Your mind wandered, soon to be snapped back to the sound of her footsteps coming to you. You panted, feeling her from behind.

"You haven't eaten a thing little lamb."

"Why am I here?"

"We'll talk once you finish your supper."

You felt like a child being reprimanded. A scowl crossed your face. You could hear a chuckle, her footsteps moving out of the dining room. Everything always felt so on edge. You didn't want to eat, you wanted to go home. Still you gave in.

You found her in her bedroom, resting on her bed. The air in the room was sucked up once you realized what she was wearing. An extremely, like very, see-through nightgown. Everything was on display to you. You tried your best to keep your eyes off breasts or her curls between her legs on display to the world.

"So you've met Rictus. Oh and you wanted to speak?"

She was ridiculous. It's like asking why you were kidnapped was an odd and annoying question.

"Why am I here?"

Ambessa's head tilted down, her eyes staying on yours. You couldnt stay focused on her, the anxiety of her almost nakedness still there. You should look in her eyes, show some sort of dominance. You just couldn't. She never seemed to get nervous or anxious and that annoyed you. Her body layed easily, legs resting apart. Her thick thighs, her muscular biceps, her heavy breasts, her chocolate skin, her strong hands-

"I payed for my time with you." Amusement crossed her face as anger crossed yours.

"This is ridiculous. I want to go home." Her huffed out laugh only angered you more.

"Go on home. Find your way back to the brothel and Malik. Im sure he'll be pleased to see you, knowing you left with me."

Malik. Would he know you were kidnapped? He would have to know, right? She had spoken to him. That was the only way she could have known his name. God only knows what she told him, what deal they made. Defeat weighed heavy on you. Staying here seemed to be the only option as of right now. You had to find out information, information on what she wanted, why she was doing this. You weren't sure if you wanted to know.

Down the hall, away from her, worry and sadness overcame you. The blankets hid your body, head buried beneath them. You could feel your throat tighten, and you were crying. Why was she doing this? You didn't want to know how far this would go, how far she would go. Your sobs turned into sniffes, then silence as you fell into slumber.

Whistling and halfway skipping, Malik drifted down the brothel hallway.

"Babette!"

Babette glanced at Malik in the doorway. She tried her best to keep a neutral face.

"They done yet?"

"Yeah they left a while ago. Um like Ambessa left first then she went home I think. They didn't leave together."

Malik grunted. "What's gotten up your ass?" He studied her face. Something was off. She was lying. "You sure she went home?"

Babette swallowed, keeping her gaze averted.

"Alright what's up?" Babette didn't respond, the ruffle of her papers filling the silence. "Where is she? What happened to them?"

"Malik I- I really can't say." Maliks head shook with frustration.

"Babette. Spit it out!" His hands came slamming down onto her desk, papers flying into every direction. She had to tell him. Malik wasn't the type to just let it go. He would want to know where his favorite went. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Ms Medarda...took her."

"The hell do you mean took her? Like they just left together?"

Babette didn't want to tell him more. She felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. Owning this brothel would actually be the death of her.

"She took her. She went into the room... awake and she didn't come out that way."

Babette waited on Malik's explosion, but it never came. "I'm gonna call Cain."

"What are you going to do?"

Worry clawed at Babette. "We're taking a trip to topside. This bitch crossed the wrong man."

She quietly drifted towards you, watching your sleeping body. Snuggled in the thick blanket, your tear streaked face pulled at her heart. She brushed your hair out of your face, drifting her knuckles down your cheeks. You were so beautiful. Soon. Soon you would be content. Soon you would be greedy for her warmth and attention. Soon you would be begging her to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you. A kiss planted softly on your temple.

"Soon little lamb."~

You. Always. Masterlist

Chapter 5 is when it turns up yall. We're getting to the goods soon.

Taglist: @maaaaaaaaaaari , @ivorydevil , @trizxyp

Lmk to be added.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boeing’s deliberately defective fleet of flying sky-wreckage

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Boeing's 787 "Dreamliner" is manufactured far from the company's Seattle facility, in a non-union shop in Charleston, South Carolina. At that shop, there is a cage full of defective parts that have been pulled from production because they are not airworthy.

Hundreds of parts from that Material Review Segregation Area (MRSA) were secretly pulled from that cage and installed on aircraft that are currently plying the world's skies. Among them, sections 47/48 of a 787 – the last four rows of the plane, along with its galley and rear toilets. As Moe Tkacik writes in her excellent piece on Boeing's lethally corrupt culture of financialization and whistleblower intimidation, this is a big ass chunk of an airplane, and there's no way it could go missing from the MRSA cage without a lot of people knowing about it:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-30-whistleblower-laws-protect-lawbreakers/

More: MRSA parts are prominently emblazoned with red marks denoting them as defective and unsafe. For a plane to escape Boeing's production line and find its way to a civilian airport near you with these defective parts installed, many people will have to see and ignore this literal red flag.

The MRSA cage was a special concern of John "Swampy" Barnett, the Boeing whistleblower who is alleged to have killed himself in March. Tkacik's earlier profile of Swampy paints a picture of a fearless, stubborn engineer who refused to go along to get along, refused to allow himself to become inured to Boeing's growing culture of profits over safety:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-03-28-suicide-mission-boeing/

Boeing is America's last aviation company and its single largest exporter. After the company was allowed to merge with its rival McDonnell-Douglas in 1997, the combined company came under MDD's notoriously financially oriented management culture. MDD CEO Harry Stonecipher became Boeing's CEO in the early 2000s. Stonecipher was a protege of Jack Welch, the man who destroyed General Electric with cuts to quality and workforce and aggressive union-busting, a classic Mafia-style "bust-out" that devoured the company's seed corn and left it a barren wasteland:

https://qz.com/1776080/how-the-mcdonnell-douglas-boeing-merger-led-to-the-737-max-crisis

Post-merger, Boeing became increasingly infected with MDD's culture. The company chased cheap, less-skilled labor to other countries and to America's great onshore-offshore sacrifice zone, the "right-to-work" American south, where bosses can fire uppity workers who balked at criminal orders, without the hassle of a union grievance.

Stonecipher was succeeded by Jim "Prince Jim" McNerney, ex-3M CEO, another Jack Welch protege (Welch spawned a botnet of sociopath looters who seized control of the country's largest, most successful firms, and drove them into the ground). McNerney had a cute name for the company's senior engineers: "phenomenally talented assholes." He created a program to help his managers force these skilled workers – everyone a Boeing who knew how to build a plane – out of the company.

McNerney's big idea was to get rid of "phenomenally talented assholes" and outsource the Dreamliner's design to Boeing's suppliers, who were utterly dependent on the company and could easily be pushed around (McNerney didn't care that most of these companies lacked engineering departments). This resulted in a $80b cost overrun, and a last-minute scramble to save the 787 by shipping a "cleanup crew" from Seattle to South Carolina, in the hopes that those "phenomenally talented assholes" could save McNerney's ass.

Swampy was part of the cleanup crew. He was terrified by what he saw there. Boeing had convinced the FAA to let them company perform its own inspections, replacing independent government inspectors with Boeing employees. The company would mark its own homework, and it swore that it wouldn't cheat.

Boeing cheated. Swampy dutifully reported the legion of safety violations he witnessed and was banished to babysit the MRSA, an assignment his managers viewed as a punishment that would isolate Swampy from the criminality he refused to stop reporting. Instead, Swampy audited the MRSA, and discovered that at least 420 defective aviation components had gone missing from the cage, presumably to be installed in planes that were behind schedule. Swampy then audited the keys to the MRSA and learned that hundreds of keys were "floating around" the Charleston facility. Virtually anyone could liberate a defective part and install it into an airplane without any paper trail.

Swampy's bosses had a plan for dealing with this. They ordered Swampy to "pencil whip" the investigations of 420 missing defective components and close the cases without actually figuring out what happened to them. Swampy refused.

Instead, Swampy took his concerns to a departmental meeting where 12 managers were present and announced that "if we can’t find them, any that we can’t find, we need to report it to the FAA." The only response came from a supervisor, who said, "We’re not going to report anything to the FAA."

The thing is, Swampy wasn't just protecting the lives of the passengers in those defective aircraft – he was also protecting Boeing employees. Under Sec 38 of the US Criminal Code, it's a 15-year felony to make any "materially false writing, entry, certification, document, record, data plate, label, or electronic communication concerning any aircraft or space vehicle part."

(When Swampy told a meeting that he took this seriously because "the paperwork is just as important as the aircraft" the room erupted in laughter.)

Swampy sent his own inspectors to the factory floor, and they discovered "dozens of red-painted defective parts installed on planes."

Swampy blew the whistle. How did the 787 – and the rest of Boeing's defective flying turkeys – escape the hangar and find their way into commercial airlines' fleets? Tkacik blames a 2000 whistleblower law called AIR21 that:

creates such byzantine procedures, locates adjudication power in such an outgunned federal agency, and gives whistleblowers such a narrow chance of success that it effectively immunizes airplane manufacturers, of which there is one in the United States, from suffering any legal repercussions from the testimony of their own workers.

By his own estimation, Swampy was ordered to commit two felonies per week for six years. Tkacik explains that this kind of operation relies on a culture of ignorance – managers must not document their orders, and workers must not be made aware of the law. Whistleblowers like Swampy, who spoke the unspeakable, were sidelined (an assessment by one of Swampy's managers called him "one of the best" and finished that "leadership would give hugs and high fives all around at his departure").

Multiple whistleblowers were singled out for retaliation and forced departure. William Hobek, a quality manager who refused to "pencil whip" the missing, massive 47-48 assembly that had wandered away from the MRSA cage, was given a "weak" performance review and fired despite an HR manager admitting that it was bogus.

Another quality manager, Cynthia Kitchens, filed an ethics complaint against manager Elton Wright who responded to her persistent reporting of defects on the line by shoving her against a wall and shouting that Boeing was "a good ol’ boys’ club and you need to get on board." Kitchens was fired in 2016. She had cancer at the time.

John Woods, yet another quality engineer, was fired after he refused to sign off on a corner-cutting process to repair a fuselage – the FAA later backed up his judgment.

Then there's Sam Salehpour, the 787 quality engineer whose tearful Congressional testimony described more corner-cutting on fuselage repairs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP0xhIe1LFE

Salehpour's boss followed the Boeing playbook to the letter: Salehpour was constantly harangued and bullied, and he was isolated from colleagues who might concur with his assessment. When Salehpour announced that he would give Congressional testimony, his car was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances.

It's a playbook. Salehpour's experience isn't unusual at Boeing. Two other engineers, working on the 787 Organization Designation Authorization, held up production by insisting that the company fix the planes' onboard navigation computers. Their boss gave them a terrible performance review, admitting that top management was furious at the delays and had ordered him to punish the engineers. The engineers' union grievance failed, with Boeing concluding that this conduct – which they admitted to – didn't rise to the level of retaliation.

As Tkacik points out, these engineers and managers that Boeing targeted for intimidation and retaliation are the very same staff who are supposed to be performing inspections of behalf of the FAA. In other words, Boeing has spent years attacking its own regulator, with total impunity.

But it's not just the FAA who've failed to take action – it's also the DOJ, who have consistently declined to bring prosecutions in most cases, and who settled the rare case they did bring with "deferred prosecution agreements." This pattern was true under Trump's DOJ and continued under Biden's tenure. Biden's prosecutors have been so lackluster that a federal judge "publicly rebuked the DOJ for failing to take seriously the reputational damage its conduct throughout the Boeing case was inflicting on the agency."

Meanwhile, there's the AIR21 rule, a "whistleblower" rule that actually protects Boeing from whistleblowers. Under AIR21, an aviation whistleblower who is retaliated against by their employer must first try to resolve their problem internally. If that fails, the whistleblower has only one course of action: file an OSHA complaint within 90 days (if HR takes more than 90 days to resolve your internal complaint, you can no have no further recourse). If you manage to raise a complaint with OSHA, it is heard by a secret tribunal that has no subpoena power and routinely takes five years to rule on cases, and rules against whistleblowers 97% of the time.

Boeing whistleblowers who missed the 90-day cutoff have filled the South Carolina courts with last-ditch attempts to hold the company to account. When they lose these cases – as is routine, given Boeing's enormous legal muscle and AIR21's legal handcuffs – they are often ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs.

Tkacik cites Swampy's lawyer, Rob Turkewitz, who says Swampy was the only one of Boeing's whistleblowers who was "savvy, meticulous, and fast-moving enough to bring an AIR 21 case capable of jumping through all the hoops" to file an AIR21 case, which then took seven years. Turkewitz calls Boeing South Carolina "a criminal enterprise."

That's a conclusion that's hard to argue with. Take Boeing's excuse for not producing the documentation of its slapdash reinstallation of the Alaska Air door plug that fell off its plane in flight: the company says it's not criminally liable for failing to provide the paperwork, because it never documented the repair. Not documenting the repair is also a crime.

You might have heard that there's some accountability coming to the Boeing boardroom, with the ouster of CEO David Calhoun. Calhoun's likely successor is Patrick Shanahan, whom Tkacik describes as "the architect of the ethos that governed the 787 program" and whom her source called "a classic schoolyard bully."

If Shanahan's name rings a bell, it might be because he was almost Trump's Secretary of Defense, but that was derailed by the news that he had "emphatically defended" his 17 year old son after the boy nearly beat his mother to death with a baseball bat. Shanahan is presently CEO of Spirit Aerospace, who made the door-plug that fell out of the Alaska Airlines 737 Max.

Boeing is a company where senior managers only fail up and where whistleblowers are terrorized in and out of the workplace. One of Tkacik's sources noticed his car shimmying. The source, an ex-787 worker who'd been fired after raising safety complaints, had tried to bring an AIR21 complaint, but withdrew it out of fear of being bankrupted if he was ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs. When the whistleblower pulled over, he discovered that two of the lug-nuts had been removed from one of his wheels.

The whistleblower texted Tkcacik to say (not for the first time): "If anything happens, I'm not suicidal."

Boeing is a primary aerospace contractor to the US government. It's clear that its management – and investors – consider it too big to jail. It's also clear that they know it's too big to fail – after all, the company did a $43b stock buyback, then got billions in a publicly funded buyback.

Boeing is, effectively, a government agency that is run for the benefit of its investors. It performs its own safety inspections. It investigates its own criminal violations of safety rules. It loots its own coffers and then refills them at public expense.

Meanwhile, the company has filled our skies with at least 420 airplanes with defective, red-painted parts that were locked up in the MRSA cage, then snuck out and fitted to an airplane that you or someone you love could fly on the next time you take your family on vacation or fly somewhere for work.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/01/boeing-boeing/#mrsa

Image: Tom Axford 1 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud_on_a_clear_summer_morning.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

--

Clemens Vasters (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:N7379E_-_Boeing_737_MAX_9.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[allllium]

I Think This is a Red Flag

~ This is really short but I think it's adorable, especially the thoughts Simon has about reader 🤭

~ Fluff, Johnny being a meanie, WC: 656

~ readers throws things at johnny and Simon falls even more in love

"Don't make me beat your ass Mactavish!" Your voice booms though the small apartment. Simon sighs, hearing your words as he walks into your shared home.

"No! This is assault!" Johnny yells back, his voice comically high pitched. Simon doesn't even have his boots off before a semi quiet bang hits the wall.

"Do I need to intervene?" Your boyfriend asks, leaning on the door frame of your bedroom. You and Johnny are standing on opposite sides of the room but he can clearly see the plastic cup on the floor that you threw at Johnny moments before. You're standing with your hands on your hips, while Johnny has his arms up in defense.

"No we're good, baby." You smile at him, discreetly moving your hand to grab another throwable item from the dresser next to you. Johnny begins shaking his head in disagreement.

"Tell them to stop trying to kill me!" The scot demands. You give Simon a very clear look that screams "stay out of it."

"Love, why are you throwing things at Mactavish?" He asks, and quickly adds, "Not that I disagree with this course of action."

You throw something else at Johnny as Simon is talking. Not even looking to see what it is before launching it across the room. "Why don't you tell him, buddy." You offer to Johnny.

"But then he'll throw stuff at me too." Johnny practically whines. Simon happens to have a much better aim than you. Simon watches in amusement as the people closest to him act like toddlers.

"What'd you do, Mate?" He asks quietly, not really wanting to know the answer. He really doesn't want to be labeled your accomplice when you inevitably kill the man.

"I threw a bug." Johnny mutters under his breath. Quiet enough that Simon couldn't hear but loud enough to remind you to throw your next item.

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask him to clarify in an angry voice.

"I threw a bug at 'em." He says again, his head hanging down. Simon has to resist the urge to laugh. Johnny can do dumb things, yes but something as dumb as this? Not even Simon saw this coming.

"Well, why'd you do that then?" Simon bursts, still trying his absolute hardest to keep in his laughter. The last thing he wants is your current wrath focused on him.

"I don't know," he brings his voice back to a mutter, "Thought it'd be funny."

It's almost humorous how he looks like a kicked puppy.

Almost.

Certainly not enough to stop you from your present revenge.

"And was it Johnny? Was it funny?" You aggressively question. From Simon's standpoint it almost looks like tears are forming in your eyes. He must admit you look gorgeous when you're so angry.

"No it was not." He responds, it reminds Simon of a child being scolded. His eyes dart up to meet Simon's.

"Help me." His eyes beg. Simon quickly looks away.

"I don't know, this seems like a fair revenge plan." He shrugs, more than happy to keep watching you.

A disgraceful sound comes from Johnny as he realizes he has no way out. Not with Simon in the doorway or the anger radiating off you.

"Thank you, Sweetie." You gleam at him. Simon can feel his heart melt in his chest at the sight of your happy face. He'd let you throw things at him too if you got this happy about it. Obviously you've been wanting an excuse to do this for a while.

Johnny lets out an overly dramatic sigh as you and Simon stare at each other. He's awfully emotional about this considering you've missed him over the half the times you've thrown something.

Simon watches as your attention turns back on Johnny and the smile leaves your face. He can make out the faint "Traitor" you mouth at him. You really are perfect for me. Simon thinks to himself.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ ch 5

note: special thanks to @panicflower for inspiring me with this chapter! i was honestly a lil stuck but their suggestion helped me come up with a direction( ˘ ³˘) hope everyone enjoys!

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 3.4k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: simon wants to make it up to you, but he has no idea where to begin. when you start getting close to someone else, he knows he has to fix things before it's too late.

warnings: still ghost's pov, mentions of injury, jealousy reader gives ghost the cold shoulder this time, ghost is just a lil bit pathetic and very emotionally constipated

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

simon found you in the infirmary.

he knew you hated hospitals; you tried to hide how they made your skin crawl, but he would always notice the way you'd fidget uncomfortably whenever you needed patching up after a mission. even though you more than likely didn't want to see him, his selfish heart still held out hope that he could bring you some comfort.

you're sitting on the edge of a bed, checking the bandage around your forearm when he pushes through the doors. he subtly brushes the dirt from his clothes with his free hand as he takes a step forward, the other holding the hastily collected gift behind his back. but as he cautiously approaches, his breath catches in his throat when he notices the third presence taking up the space next to you.

another sergeant, from the unit the one-four-one is working with for their current assignment. his face is familiar, but simon’s never bothered to learn his name. up until this moment, he was completely irrelevant; but now this nameless bastard was sitting beside you in the space that should he his, and he’s never wanted to punch an ally more than he does right now.

he stops in front of you, and when you lift your head to meet his eyes the pure exhaustion there sends a twinge of pain through his heart. when your friend looks up as well, he feels a surge of annoyance that he’s even here – simon came in with the intention of explaining himself to you, but with someone else lingering around you, he’s afraid he won’t be able to gather the courage.

the humiliation of giving you the makeshift gift he's still got hidden behind his back in front of this stranger would be far too much.

"we need to talk." his voice is harder than he would like, but the other set of eyes on him puts him on edge. he goes to take a small step closer to you, but he freezes when you hold up your uninjured hand to stop him.

"don't," you reply, tearing your red-rimmed eyes away from him as you push yourself to stand up. your shoulders sag and you cradle your bandaged arm close to your abdomen. "i'm tired, ghost."

he grimaces under his mask, watching helplessly as you take your jacket from the waiting hands of your companion – who stands up too, placing his hand on your shoulder with a small smile directed at you that makes simon want to strangle him.

then the idiot turns to him, and regards him with a similar polite smile. "i'm sure it can wait 'till tomorrow, sir." he says, gesturing for you to move with him as he takes a step around simon.

he doesn't bother to acknowledge the sergeant though, keeping his gaze focused solely on you.

"i know, i just–" he begins, raising his free arm to block your path – and perhaps separate you from the outsider – but the way you flinch away from him ever so slightly has his heart breaking all over again. "what i said was uncalled for."

you sigh deeply and drop your gaze to the floor. "then why did you say it?" your frustration is obvious, but he can't come up with a response in time. you click your tongue, before continuing, "i don't wanna do this right now."

"c'mon, man," the spare interjects, pushing his arm down and out of your way. simon finally meets his eyes then, glaring at him with such intensity from behind the balaclava he can see how thickly he swallows. "uh– sir." he corrects, quickly retracting his hand from simon's arm and retreating his gaze to you.

simon resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning them back to you as well. "sting." he mumbles, a weak plea for you to listen, but you offer no reaction.

your eyes dart to him and away again as you brush past him with a stone cold expression on your face. he would've believed it, had it not been for the tremble in your lower lip that gave away what you really felt.

for a moment he says frozen in place, watching your back as you exit the infirmary with your irritating companion. he didn't know what to do, now you were the one running away from him. is this how you always felt around him?

before the infirmary door can swing shut he follows you both out into the hallway, keeping pace with you but not daring to walk beside you. the minimal distance between you and the sergeant has his blood boiling, but he restrains his annoyance for your sake. he hears you sigh as his heavy footsteps fall behind your own, but you refuse to give him any more of your attention.

it's pathetic, he thinks to himself, the way he's following you around like a lost puppy, but he can't bring himself to be ashamed. he wants your attention, and he'll do anything to get it.

when you get out into the cold night air, instead of heading towards the main gate like he expected you to, you take a right after the sergeant, towards the car park. his gets a heavy feeling in his stomach, but he follows anyway. your car was still parked outside his house, unmoved since you'd left.

he still follows as you make your way towards one of the few cars left in the space. you say something to the sergeant, too low for simon to hear, and he nods before going ahead to his car.

"ghost," your tone is unimpressed as you turn around to him, arms crossed over your chest. "what are you doing?"

he blinks. "we're goin' the same way." he mutters, his hand squeezing the fist wrapped tightly around his gift that was still hidden behind his back.

"anderson's giving me a lift." you reply flatly.

"oh." his stomach sinks unbearably. he had naively hoped that you'd walk with him, and he'd finally get the chance to talk to you. "...right."

"...right."

you take a step back, going to walk away again, but before you can move he calls out to you. "sting."

you stop and look at him, brows raised expectantly.

in one of his gloved hands, he holds out a handful of delicate white flowers to you. you look at them, and then back up to him with a surprised blink.

"...are those from the flowerbeds out front?" you ask, fixing him with a sceptical expression. he shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other under your scrutiny.

"yeah." he murmurs, "you said you liked 'em."

he hoped you wouldn't comment on the fact that you'd said that during your first week on the taskforce. a moment of tension passes before you gently take the flowers from his hand.

"i did." you say, brushing your fingers over the slightly squashed petals. simon breaths a silent sigh of relief that you didn't outright reject his gesture.

you don't say anything more, leaving the two of you in another uncomfortable pause, but once again, he can't think of anything to say quickly enough. so with another low sigh, you turn on your heel and close the short distance between you and anderson's car.

his arm twitches, a restrained attempt to reach out for you, to ask you to stay, but the door slams shut without you sparing another glance in his direction.

simon can only watch as the taillights disappear into the night, taking you along with them and out of his reach, and leaving him alone in the desolate car park.

"fuuuuck." he growls, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. why would you want to get into the car of someone you've only known for a few days? even if you were angry with him, you couldn't trust anderson more than your own lieutenant. his hands curl into fists at his sides at the thought that you might actually prefer that prick over him.

with nothing left to do, he begins the lonely walk home. it always manages to catch him off guard, how much colder the world seemed to be when you weren't around.

by the time he’s inside and locked the door behind him, the lights are all off and the door to your room is firmly shut. he considers knocking, but out of fear of disturbing you he decides against it – he’d bothered you enough for one day.

as he lays in bed and retreats into his usual fantasy of you, like he’s done countless times before, there's something different plaguing his mind. your smile, something usually so comforting to him, is directed to someone else.

a striking pain blooms in his chest, spreading to his limbs and his head until his whole body aches with the feeling of you, smiling warmly and holding the hand of someone other than him; he focuses his mind, concentrating on the faceless silhouette until the shadows morph into features he recognises.

anderson.

✹✹✹

he doesn't see you the next morning. you're gone by the time he wakes up, along with your car. it's surprising that he didn't hear you leave; usually he wakes at smallest of sounds, but you seemed to have the unique ability to sneak up on him.

going through his morning routine felt more like a chore than it ever had before, especially the trek back to base with only the silence of the early morning to keep him company. not even the birds sing for him today.

when he finally trudges into the rec room almost forty minutes after leaving home, he finds gaz and soap sitting on the old sofas, playing some card game on the coffee table. he considers turning back around and hiding in his office all day, but he’s spotted before he can escape.

"rise 'n shine, l.t." soap calls, "c'mon, i'll deal ya in."

with a poorly disguised roll of his eyes, he drags his feet over to where they're sitting and drops his weight onto the armchair. he doesn't even know what game they're playing when he's given a hand, but his mind is elsewhere anyway.

"you alright, mate?" gaz's question snaps him out of his daze, but he doesn't get to reply before the door is thrown open and a fourth presence enters the room.

"morning!" anderson's overly enthusiastic voice bounces off the walls of the rec room. simon's head throbs. "anyone seen stingray?" he approaches them as he asks, crossing the distance with a gait that just feels annoying.

gaz and soap look up from their cards at his question, sharing a quick look between them that goes completely over anderson's head.

"they're on inventory, probably in the storeroom." gaz responds, offering him a polite, downturned smile, before looking back and meeting ghost's deadpan gaze.

at least he wasn't the only one who hated anderson's guts.

"perfect, thanks mate!" anderson grins, about to rush back out the way he came, but ghost speaks up before he can get too far.

"not so fast, sergeant." he growls, dropping his cards onto the coffee table and standing up to his full height. he can see soap and gaz share another look out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze stays locked onto anderson like a predator on its prey.

anderson pauses, slowly turning on his heel to face the lieutenant again as he stalks forward. ghost feels a sense of satisfaction at the way he has to crane his neck upwards to look him in the eye, his massive frame towering over the sergeant in an almost comical way.

"yes, sir?" anderson’s voice is strained as he responds, his shoulders noticeably tighter than a moment ago.

"where's your report from yesterday?" ghost leans just slightly forward, crowding his personal space. he sees anderson's gaze flicker to the others behind him, but he knows they're not about to offer their help.

"uh, i filed it first thing this morning," he answers, rocking backwards on his heels. "why?"

ghost sneers under his mask. "well, our captain needs a copy too." 

"but my commander's already left, i can't get it back…" anderson’s brows pull together, confusion evident in his words.

"better get writin' then, hadn't you?" ghost doesn't even try to hide the smugness in his voice this time, take more pleasure in ruining anderson's day than he probably should.

"...yes sir." anderson nods, his gaze dropping to the floor as ghost moves past him. he makes sure to nudge his shoulder as he goes, catching anderson off guard and causing him to stumble slightly.

the three sergeants watch as he disappears through the door, each breathing a sigh of relief once they're sure he's gone. ghost's temper was tough to be on the receiving end of, and his bad mood always seemed to rub off on those around him.

"wow..." anderson grumbles, a bitter look on his face as he approaches the others again. "who pissed in his cornflakes?"

gaz and soap do their best not to acknowledge him, instead going back to their card game as if he wasn't there. unfortunately, anderson either doesn't pick up on it, or he just doesn't care, because he hangs around despite being blatantly ignored.

"reckon he's still in the doghouse with sting?" gaz asks, though the answer is obvious. anderson sits down beside him, much to gaz's chagrin, but he takes no notice of his questioning gaze.

"och, no doubt about that." soap huffs.

"so they're together?" anderson asks, tilting his head slightly with a frown. "i was gonna make a move, but i know they live together, so…"

gaz meets his eyes with a frown of his own. "well…" he looks at soap from the corner of his eye, who has a similar deer-in-headlights expression. "...not necessarily,"

"it's… complicated." soap adds, trying to hide the panic on his face with a begrudging smile that ends up more like a grimace.

"oh, so stingray's available, is what i'm hearing." he punctuated his words with an irritating wiggle of his eyebrows.

gaz and soap share another wide-eyed look.

"i don't know if–"

"now hold on–"

anderson pays their protests no mind however, hurrying to the door with a call of, "sorry lads, cant hang about!" as he leaves.

as soon as the door swings shut behind him, soap lets out a frustrated groan. "good goin' mate…" he grumbles, turning to gaz with a raised brow.

"...don't tell ghost," gaz mutters with a regretful expression decorating his face.

✹✹✹

true to gaz's word, when simon slips through the door to the storeroom you're there, clipboard in hand and quietly going through the stock.

you haven't noticed him yet, so he takes a moment to simply observe you as you work. although in reality it's only been a few days, it could've been weeks since he last saw you and he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. time moved so slow while you were gone it felt like it was dragging specifically to punish him.

it's only as he stands there watching you that he realises he has no idea what he's actually going to say to you, but it was too late to back out now; he was here, and he wasn't sure when he'd next get a moment alone with you, he had to try.

"sting–"

"shit!" 

you jump, your clipboard slipping from your hands and clattering to the floor. your hand presses over your heart as you whip around to face him.

"don't fucking do that, you scared the shit out of me." you shoot him a glare and reach down to pick up your clipboard while simon can only stand there like an idiot, his mind desperately racing to come up with something to say.

"i, uh– just wanted to talk." he mutters, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. you sigh lightly and look down to the documents you'd been writing.

"okay, go on then." you gesture for him to speak, and turn back around to the shelves to carry on with your duties.

"well– i.. i shouldn't've said what i said," he begins, following after you as you move along the shelves and continue to write. the way you disregard his presence throws him off – he was so used to having your undivided attention it was strange to lose it.

"we've established that."

"and i regret it," he continues, getting closer again, but you still don't look at him. his voice is significantly weaker than when he began, your ice cold demeanour effecting what little confidence had had going into this. "i just… i don't know what to do."

at that, you lower your clipboard and gaze pointedly into the space in front of you, lips pursed with obvious anger. when you finally face him, the incredulous look on your face has him regretting having said anything, despite not understanding where your fury came from.

"you don't know what to do?" you laugh, but it's dry and humourless. "that's priceless, lieutenant, honestly."

"why? just–"

he's interrupted for the second time that morning by the door opening to reveal anderson, that infuriating grin plastered onto his face.

"you in here, sting?" he calls, eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you near the back wall. "oh. lieutenant ghost…" the grin falls from his face and the way he stands up a little straighter doesn’t go unnoticed.

simon quietly groans to himself, pouring every ounce of malice he has into the way he glowers at the sergeant. he was so tempted to punch this prick it took an unbelievable amount of restraint not to.

"thought i told you to write that report." he seethes, turning his body to face anderson while simultaneously putting himself between you and him.

"well, i'm getting to it, but–"

"no buts, sergeant." he interrupts, voice dangerously low. "i gave you an order; do it."

"sir, i really don't think it's necess–"

"maybe you'd like to tell captain price why he can't sign off on the debrief?" his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it, and he's sure his fingernails would've drawn blood had he not been wearing gloves.

"...no, sir." anderson mutters, his demeanour something akin to a scolded child.

"then you'd better fuck off, hadn't you?" ghost spits, gesturing sharply with one hand towards the door.

"y-yes sir…" anderson stutters, backing out of the doorway with a quick, concerned look to you over ghost's shoulder before he disappears around the corner.

now that it's just the two of you, simon turns back to you with a much softer look in his eyes, only to be met with a glare from you that rivals one of his own.

"don't be such a dickhead." you hiss, turning sharply away from him again and going back to writing on your clipboard.

simon scoffs. "you're seriously gonna defend that bellend?" he asks, throwing his hands out to the sides and leaning to catch your eye again.

"you don't even know him." you turn more away from him to avoid his searching gaze, your writing getting steadily more aggressive the more he tries to capture your attention.

"i know enough to know that he's–"

"just stop!" you shout, finally turning to face him with a venomous glare. the tension between you is palpable, it makes his skin crawl, but he doesn't dare move. "i don't wanna hear it! if all you're gonna do is bitch about my friends, then you can leave."

simon's breath falters when you turn your back on him again, dragging a heavy hand over your face as you do. "wait– that's not–"

"just piss off, ghost!" you cry, "please!"

your plea rings through the empty room, echoing in simon's ribcage and embedding itself like a thorn in his heart. he can't see your face, for which he's actually grateful; if he saw you cry again he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

he waits in silence for you to say something, anything more, but you refuse to look at him, shoulders hunched and clipboard held so tightly it was at risk of snapping.

without another word, he drags his feet over to the door, looking back over his shoulder to you as he pauses in the threshold. you’re still standing exactly where he left you, back turned and completely unmoving save for the uneven rise and fall of your shoulders.

"i'll… see you at home, yeah?" he mutters, his small tone not at all befitting of a soldier as imposing as him.

you don't respond.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona ,

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[short-honey-badger]

Cramps and Cream Pies

hellooo my JJk ladies. This may be a bit niche, but I am currently on my period and couldn't get my mind off Dead Beat Dad Toji. He's just too fine. Anyway! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! SMUT. Period sex but it's not graphic. Shower sex. Vomit is mentioned. It's Toji. He's nothing but a red flag. Breeding Kink too.

@goth-mami-writer who giggled with me over the title ❤️

Fushiguro Toji could hear you retching from where he was lounging on the couch. It was your time of the month, and it seemed to be hitting you harder than usual. He usually wouldn’t bother with helping you, or even asking if you needed anything, but listening to you cough and groan made his chest feel tight and guilt eat at his black heart. He sighs loudly and rises from the couch when he doesn’t hear any sound coming from the bathroom after a while, worrying for his girlfriend making him move his lazy ass. 

Toji finds you curled on the floor, arm tight around your abdomen, and a pitiful expression painted on your pale face. He leans in the doorway, crossing his arms and giving you a look of sympathy, even if his words do not match his expression.

“You look like you feel like shit.” 

He is rewarded with a glare, though it’s less effective than a wet kitten. 

“Thanks, Toji,” You sneer and roll over with a groan, not wanting to look at the asshole you call a boyfriend.

“Thanks for stating the obvious.” 

The elder Fushiguro huffs and rolls his eyes at you, and then shoves off the door frame to kneel by your side. He slides a hand into your sweaty hair, blunt nails gently scraping along your scalp. You sigh and press into the touch, finding comfort in the surprisingly sweet action. 

Toji rolls his eyes at you again and slides his hand away after a moment. You whine at the loss of his touch but are soothed soon after when your lover scoops you up in those thick arms you love so much and cradles you close to his chest. You shove your face in the crook of his neck and focus on your breathing instead of the feeling of your insides twisting into a pretzel.

“Poor babygirl,” Toji coos softly and kisses the side of your head. He holds you up with one arm and reaches for the shower faucet, flicking it on and turning the knob to your preferred temperature. He checks the water after a moment and then carefully sets you down. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up so you don’t smell gross, anymore.” 

You pout at his mean teasing and undress as quickly as you can. You can’t deny that the hot water feels amazing when you step under the spray, and your shower gets better when Toji joins you moments later. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, his big hand splayed along your lower stomach. His other hand curls along your hip, and Toji presses his face against yours. 

Toji holds you for a while, but he is a simple man, and having you all wet and pressed against him has the mercenary’s cock swell with blood. Toji is shameless in the way he grinds against you, dick pressed into the small of your back. 

“Ya know, I heard that sex can help with those cramps. Lemme fuck you, baby,” The elder Fushiguro growls in your ear and the hand on your hip slips further around, fingers easily finding your clit and pinching the sensitive bud meanly. 

“Gah! Shit, Toji~,” You hiss his name, head falling back to rest against his chest. You open your eyes and find your lover gazing at you, green eyes half-lidded and full of desire. You nod once, easily giving in to the dark-haired man when he puts just enough pressure on your clit to make your legs tremble. 

“Mhmm. You’re such a good girl, baby. Gonna feel so good wrapped around my cock,” Toji mouths at your ear, teeth catching the lobe and nipping it harshly. He nudges your feet apart, dropping the arm that he has around your waist so that he can push you forward and down at the waist. He grabs his cock, guiding his length forward to slide the fat head of his dick through your folds. 

Your hands find the shower wall, holding yourself up as Toji parts your pussy and bullies his way inside your cunt. Your lover is thick, so the stretch is a bit painful, but it only enhances the pleasure that Toji gives you. He lets you adjust for only a second before he starts up a brutal pace, cock dragging along your walls and relieving that awful pressure that has bothered you all day. 

Toji grips your hip, fucking you back on his cock as he grits his teeth. You are tight, feeling like molten lava around his dick, and Toji never wants to leave. He leans down, lips finding your ear as he snarls filthy promises into your ear. 

“I’ll make sure that you miss your next period, yeah? You want that, Mama? You want me to fuck a baby in you?” 

You nod franticly, your body on fire as your orgasm finally crests and shatters through you. Your wall constricts, squeezing his cock like a vice, and Toji curses loudly, the suddenness of you coming dragging him down with you. You milk his cock, hungry for more, and your lover eagerly gives it to you, grunting and hissing like a damn animal until his spent dick slips from your puffy folds.

You feel much better, your insides and womanly bits having settled down for now, and the two of you catch your breath, only yelp when thick fingers find your clit, rubbing harshly and causing you to jolt forward. You turn and look at Toji, feeling dread well up when you catch the wicked look on his face. He pulls you in close for an awkward kiss over your shoulder and then reaches behind him with his free hand to adjust the cooling water.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you baby?” He rumbles and smirks against your mouth, “You’re wrong if you don’t think I’m not going to stuff you full.”