#free car history check

[natashagrandeblog]

why do we want to check car history before buying a used car in uk

CarDotCheck is an essential tool for anyone considering to purchase a used car in the UK. It can provide a comprehensive car history check that can help buyers make an informed decision about the used car they are interested in.

[vehiclecheckuk]

Why vehicle history check report is important in the UK?

A vehicle history check report is a document that provides detailed information about the past of a specific vehicle. It compiles data from various sources, such as government agencies, insurance companies, auto auctions, and other sources, to provide a comprehensive overview of the vehicle’s history.

Vehicle history reports are important in the UK for several reasons:

1. Legal Compliance: In the UK, it is a legal requirement for sellers to provide accurate information about the history of the vehicle they are selling. A vehicle history report helps sellers fulfill this obligation by providing a detailed record of the vehicle’s past, including any accidents, thefts, outstanding finances, or other important information. By obtaining a vehicle history report, sellers can ensure they comply with the law and avoid potential legal issues.

2. Consumer Protection: For buyers, a vehicle history report provides important information to make an informed purchasing decision. It helps identify potential issues with the vehicle, such as undisclosed damage, outstanding finance, or mileage discrepancies. By knowing the vehicle’s history, buyers can assess its condition, value, and reliability. This empowers them to negotiate a fair price and avoid buying a vehicle with hidden problems.

3. Safety and Security: A vehicle history report in the UK can reveal critical safety information, such as whether the vehicle has been involved in serious accidents or if it has been stolen. This knowledge is essential for ensuring the safety of both the buyer and other road users. Additionally, by checking for theft records, buyers can protect themselves from unknowingly purchasing a stolen vehicle, which could result in legal consequences and financial loss.

4. Financial Protection: The free vehicle history check report helps buyers verify if there is any outstanding finance or loans associated with the vehicle. This information is crucial as it ensures that the vehicle is not encumbered by financial obligations that could be transferred to the new owner. Without a history report, buyers may unknowingly acquire a vehicle with hidden financial burdens, potentially resulting in repossession or legal complications.

5. Resale Value: A comprehensive vehicle history report can increase the resale value of a vehicle. When selling a used vehicle, providing potential buyers with a transparent history report instills confidence and trust. Buyers are more likely to pay a fair price for a vehicle with a documented history, resulting in a better resale value for the seller.

What things do I have to know for a vehicle history check?

When conducting a free vehicle history check, there are several important things you should look for and consider. Here are some key elements to focus on:

Vehicle Identification Number (VIN): Obtain the VIN of the vehicle you’re interested in and ensure it matches the VIN on the vehicle and in the documentation. The VIN is a unique identifier that allows you to access the vehicle’s history.

Accident History: Look for any reported accidents or damage history. This information can help you assess the extent of the damage, the repairs made, and the overall condition of the vehicle. Pay attention to any major accidents that may have affected the structural integrity or safety of the vehicle.

Odometer Readings: Verify the accuracy of the recorded mileage. Look for any discrepancies or signs of potential odometer tampering, as falsely low mileage can inflate the value of the vehicle. Make sure the mileage aligns with the age and condition of the vehicle.

Service and Maintenance Records: Check if the vehicle has a comprehensive service history. Regular maintenance indicates that the previous owners took good care of the vehicle. Look for records of oil changes, inspections, and repairs. This information helps assess the overall condition and reliability of the vehicle.

Vehicle Use: Determine if the vehicle has been used for commercial purposes, such as rental or fleet use. Commercial use may indicate higher mileage or more wear and tear on the vehicle.

Theft and Recovery: Check if the vehicle has been reported stolen and subsequently recovered. This information is crucial to ensure you are not purchasing a stolen vehicle, which could lead to legal troubles and financial loss.

Outstanding Finance: Verify if there are any outstanding loans, liens, or financial obligations associated with the vehicle. Ensure that the seller has clear ownership and that there are no hidden financial burdens that could transfer to you as the new owner.

Conclusion

A vehicle history check report is crucial for anyone considering purchasing a used car in the UK. It provides comprehensive information about the vehicle’s past, including accident history, outstanding finance check, mileage discrepancies, and previous ownership details. Ultimately, a vehicle history check offers peace of mind and financial protection, making it an indispensable step in the used car buying process.

[james003je]

How to find the number of owners of a car

Introduction

In the realm of vehicle ownership, curiosity often leads us to seek information about the number of previous people behind the wheel. The quest to discover the no.of previous of owner of a car can be driven by various reasons, from a desire to connect with a fellow car enthusiast to more practical concerns. Here, we unravel the methods of how to find the number of previous owner of a car.

Vehicle Registration Details

The Foundation: Registration Plate Search

The first step in this journey is the vehicle registration plate search. This method, although limited in access for privacy reasons, can sometimes yield valuable information. To initiate this process, we recommend consulting local authorities or utilising online platforms dedicated to vehicle registration searches.

Online Databases: A Goldmine of Information

In the digital age, a plethora of online databases exists that compile vehicle registration information. Websites like Car Analytica in the United Kingdom or other region-specific equivalents can provide vehicle history report. We suggest exploring these databases cautiously, ensuring compliance with privacy regulations.

Community Engagement

Connecting Through Social Media

In today's interconnected world, social media platforms serve as powerful tools for community engagement. We recommend joining local or niche car enthusiast groups on platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. 

Local Investigations

Visit Local Authorities

When digital methods fall short, a visit to local authorities can provide a more direct approach. We suggest reaching out to the local traffic department or municipal offices. In many cases, they may offer assistance or guide you through the legal avenues available.

Conclusion

Finding the number of previous owner of a car can be a challenging task, but not an impossible one. Depending on your reason, and the information you have, you can use different methods to find the number of previous owner of a car, such as using the registration number or the VIN, asking around the neighbourhood, using social media, or hiring a private investigator.

[ameliaisla09]

How Can i Check Car's History for Free UK?

The Auto Experts is a UK-based trusted online site for check car history or vehicle history check and providing 100% genuine technical information. By entering the vehicle's registration number, you can access information such as tax status, Total Keeper Change History, Plate Change History, Mileage Check, MOT status, Condition/Write Off, Police Stolen, High risk, Outstanding Finance and basic vehicle details.

[rubyjackson]

Why be careful about number plate changes?

A number plate check is one of the most important steps in buying a used vehicle since it offers thorough reports detailing number plate changes, the last five digits of the VIN, the engine number, and more. See CarDotCheck UK for further information. Visi

[apartmentsmoke]

"Wait, wait, stop," Buck says, and the very pleasant feeling of Tommy's mouth on his neck vanishes.

"You okay?" Tommy's got his Look of Concern plastered on his face. Good thing, because if Buck is right, this is concerning.

"Yeah, it's just - did you hear that?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows. "I heard you moaning."

"Tommy, that's the thing - it wasn't me." The Look of Concern has morphed into the Look of Are-You-Sure-You're-Not-Having-Me-On? It's mostly used whenever Buck regales Tommy with tales of one of the 118's emergencies ("Nothing like that ever happened while I was there, Evan"), but he's seen it in other contexts (explaining the entire Kim situation).

"At this point, I think I know what you sound like in bed." Tommy's mouth is still nicely red. And maybe he's right, it was nothing, and it would be easy to fall back into him. Buck waits a beat, ears perked, but there's nothing - so he does press his lips into Tommy's, Tommy's body relaxing against him.

Tommy rubs his side like Buck's an anxious horse. The hair on Buck's arms slowly flattens, goosebumps leaving his skin. He loses himself in the slide of their kisses, until -

He breaks free of Tommy and looks around wildly, Tommy woah'ing.

"Sweetheart," Tommy says, reaching out again. "Seriously, you okay? Because you're giving Ghost Whisperer."

Buck snaps his fingers at Tommy. "Exactly. My apartment is haunted."

"Evan." The word is a drier desert than Antarctica.

"There was a moan again! And it wasn't me. And when Chimney and Mara and Jee were over here helping set up, they left the balcony door open. It's October. And now there is something living here."

"Last time I checked, Casper wasn't considered alive," Tommy says, and the look on his face tells Buck everything: he really is a skeptic. Falling asleep during Buck's thoughts on Area 51 wasn't just because he found Buck's voice soothing.

When Buck reaches for his phone on the bedside table, a chill runs down his arm and into his spine. "Okay." He's got Google, a helpful army of friends, and the ability to buy anything he needs. That ghost is history. "So first, we need to get -"

He's stopped by Tommy's hand on his wrist. "Baby, do we really need to figure out your ghost thing right now?"

"Do you want to fuck in front of a ghost, Thomas?"

"Is he a hot ghost?" Tommy waggles his eyebrows, then sighs. "Look, I get that this is important to you, but I was away for three weeks for that training camp and I missed you. Can we send The Flying Dutchman back to sea in a couple days? My place has a big bed and a distinct lack of the supernatural."

As they're closing the door to Buck's loft, another faint moan emanates from the air.

"It's the pipes," Tommy says, linking his arm into Buck's to guide them to his car.

(They find out three days later Tommy is technically correct when maintenance pulls a dead raccoon out of the walls of Buck's loft.

"Huh," Tommy says, frowning at his phone. "They really do make that noise."

"And they stink." Buck wrinkles his nose. "Your bed still open?"

By the time the landlord's finished the repairs, Buck's stuff, cleared out for the construction, is scattered over Tommy's house.

"It'd be a pain to pack it all up again," Tommy says. "Keep it here."

"You just want easy access to my hoodies," Buck accuses, feeling Tommy's laughter from underneath the fabric of the stolen blue hoodie he's wearing.

Two hours later, hoodie abandoned to the floor, Buck officially moves in.)

[thanks to @stardustbuck (Buck thinks he's haunted) and @theweewooshow (balcony raccoon) for the inspo 🫶]

[ln4smiamitrophy]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ————— part 1

𐙚 summary; the one where lando norris reunites with his childhood love at the Monaco Grand Prix and is convinced he’s over her. after all, it’s been 7 years. he can’t still love her, right?

ʚɞ pairing; lando norris x influencer!reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; jadeybird on ig

⭒ type; irl x smau (there will be more smau in later parts)

⟡ a/n; i’ve come to realise that there aren’t many stories on here where the reader is mid/plus-sized. as a mid/plus-size girl myself, i personally can find it upsetting when there is mainly only representation of the body types that society deems to be conventionally attractive and not a lot of representation of others, they are common body types and they are attractive. i have struggled with body image in the past and i still do on occasion, if anyone who reads this ever needs anyone to talk to about this or literally anything else, feel free to message me and i’ll always get back to you. love you all, you beautiful people xx

comment to be added to my tag list <3

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Lando Norris loved the Monaco Grand Prix. Who didn’t? The history behind the race, the atmosphere, it was overall an amazing experience every year. And best of all, he was able to stay at home. When travelling so often meant never staying in one place too long, he was grateful for one time a year he could sleep in his own bed the night before a race.

It was race day and, as per, the track was as chaotic as usual. From the mechanics frantically checking to make sure the cars were ready for the race to the fans filling the track to the brim, it was hard to get a moment alone. In fact, Lando had barely had one since he stepped foot on the track. He’d been pulled into meetings and interviews left, right and centre.

Amongst all the chaos he finally has some time to himself as he heads to the track for the national anthem. He’s walking in silence, head down as he makes his way over. He keeps going over the strategy for the race in his head, he’s starting in p4. Overtakes are hard on this circuit, everyone knows that. All Lando wants this race is to preserve his tyres and hold his position.

It’s like the universe made it happen. Just as he lifted his head up, he’s met with someone he never thought he’d see again. Y/n. His first true love. They were together for three years, but when it became abundantly clear that Lando would be joining Mclaren for the 2019 formula one season, they couldn’t deal with the consequences that brought for their relationship, and ultimately it ended.

She doesn’t see him, and he’s almost relieved she didn’t. It’s been seven years since the end of their relationship, and yet upon seeing her he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she is. She’s changed, naturally, they were just teenagers when they separated. But she’s still as breathtaking as he remembers. He couldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. He pushes these feelings down, repressing them as much as he can as he finds his spot on the carpet and the national anthem begins. He needs to focus on the race.

———————————————————————

78 laps later and he was p4. Lando knew he probably wasn’t going to gain any positions during the race due to the circuit but he still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed in himself. Ever since his first win in Miami, since he was finally able to prove that he can win races, he’s craved it again. That feeling when he passed the checkered flag in first place, he wanted it again. It’s natural in his line of work to want to be the best, he’s surrounded by 19 other drivers who all want to be on that top step every weekend. But his teammate was p2, he was proud of him. Overall a good weekend for the team.

After the race was just as chaotic as the start, between interviews and press conferences and briefings, the only quiet time Lando gets is in between them. So that’s what he’s doing. Walking in silence towards the interview pen as his pr manager talks in his ear. He’s not paying attention to where he goes and so of course he has to walk into someone.

“Sor-“ He says looking up at them, expecting to send a small smile their way before continuing but that’s not what happens. “Y/n..”

“Lando…” Her voice is still as soft as it was all those years ago. He just gazes at her and neither makes a move to look away. That is until she clears her throat, looking down.

“How’ve you been?” Lando asks, a feeble attempt to get her to stay just a little longer. He doesn’t want her to walk away just yet. Just a moment longer.

“I’ve been well,” Glancing back up at him and he can tell she’s hesitant, he doesn’t blame her. Breathing out, she sighs before she speaks once more, “I watched Miami, congratulations on your first win.”

She still watched, she’d watched him win. He doesn’t quite know why he thought she wouldn’t; she’d always had a love for motorsports. It’s one thing they bonded over as teens.

“Thank you,” He can’t help the soft smile that graces his face. Lando mentally curses himself for glancing over her shoulder, being met with the slightly annoyed face of his pr manager. He should be in the pen by now.

He looks back at her, nodding. “I should probably go… it was good to see you.” She just nods at him, smiling softly, watching as he walks away.

Arriving at the pen, Lando takes a deep breath, forcing himself back into the driver headspace.

———————————————————————

Five hours later and he’s stood in a club, music blasting, bodies dancing all around him and he’s stood nursing the same drink for the past 20 minutes, taking with George. Normally Lando loves a party, out of the whole driver grid he’s the one you’re most likely to spot coming in and out of clubs on a Sunday night. But tonight he’s just not in the mood and he just can’t figure out why. Though he has reason to believe it’s got something to do with the girl he can spy dancing over George’s shoulder.

He can’t help but let his eyes dart towards her every couple minutes. He watches as she dances surrounded by people, laughing and smiling without a care in the world: he used to be able to make her do that. The countless nights they’d spend wrapped up in each other, talking about whatever came to mind, the soft giggles she’d let out anytime Lando said something even remotely funny as his hands would occupy themselves in her hair. They all came back to him as he watched her.

Clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink, he turns to George, dismissing himself before heading to the bar and deciding he was going to drink away the thoughts of the girl that was seemingly occupying his mind like a plague. He certainly does just that and three hours later, Lando is black out drunk basically lying down in the back of a taxi as Carlos sits there with him, making sure he gets home safely.

———————————————————————

A groan immediately falls from Lando’s mouth as he wakes up with a hangover straight from hell. He buries himself under his duvet until he finally decides he needs something for the pain. Peeling the duvet off of his body, he stands up, jumping slightly at his phone ringing. It’s Carlos.

“Please remind me to never drink again,” Lando states the moment he answers the phone and he’s met with Carlos laughing into his ear.

“It’s that bad?” The spaniard asks and Lando can hear his smirk down the phone. Letting out a grumbled “yes” Lando drags himself into the bathroom where he keeps his painkillers.

“What even happened?” Carlos questions him, “Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna drink much?”

“I don’t know,” Lando sighs, swallowing the painkillers, finishing the glass of water. He’s lying. He knows why but he’s not going to tell Carlos that.

His mind drifts back to the short conversation he had with her the day before. The way she danced in the club. The way she laughed. Her smile. Shaking his head, he pushes it down. He ends the phone call with Carlos, making the excuse he’s going back to bed, hoping to sleep off the hangover.

But he can’t get back to sleep, he’s never been able to fall back asleep after waking up, envying people who find it so easy. After 10 minutes of trying, he finds himself hauling himself into his living room, sprawling out on the sofa and watching whatever Netflix recommends him.

He has no clue what he’s watching but then again, he’s not really paying attention. His mind kept travelling back to her. No matter what he tried. He told himself it was just shock. The shock of seeing her again. And before he knew it, he was opening instagram, typing in her name and clicking her most recent post.

———————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and others

tagged yourbff, scuderiaferrari

y/nusername monaco, you are so sexy

thank you @scuderiaferrari for the invite <3

comments…

yourbff girls trips with you are the best <3

⤷ y/nusername i love you <3

user1 y/n being an f1 girlie is literally the best thing to ever happen to me

user2 y/n just proving “hot girls love f1” to be true

scuderiaferrari loved having you around

*liked by y/nusername*

⤷ y/nusername loved being around

alexandrasaintmleux loved meeting you, we need to hang out again!!

⤷ y/nusername you’re an angel, we need to!!

user3 i wanna party with y/n so bad

⤷ user4 me too!! she’s deffo the most fun ever

yourfriend1 missing you :/

⤷ y/nusername missing you more honeybun

user5 lando in the likes??

⤷ user6 he’s in the likes but they don’t follow each other

———————————————————————

part 2 soon !!

taglist; @soamericn @urfavwelshie @realcherryjam @danielshoe @coastalrainae

[dreamdolldeveloper]

back to basics

mostly free resources to help you learn the basics that i've gathered for myself so far that i think are cool

everyday

gcfglobal - about the internet, online safety and for kids, life skills like applying for jobs, career planning, resume writing, online learning, today's skills like 3d printing, photoshop, smartphone basics, microsoft office apps, and mac friendly. they have core skills like reading, math, science, language learning - some topics are sparse so hopefully they keep adding things on. great site to start off on learning.

handsonbanking - learn about finances. after highschool, credit, banking, investing, money management, debt, goal setting, loans, cars, small businesses, military, insurance, retirement, etc.

bbc - learning for all ages. primary to adult. arts, history, science, math, reading, english, french, all the way to functional and vocational skills for adults as well, great site!

education.ket - workplace essential skills

general education

mathsgenie - GCSE revision, grade 1-9, math stages 1-14, provides more resources! completely free.

khan academy - pre-k to college, life skills, test prep (sats, mcat, etc), get ready courses, AP, partner courses like NASA, etc. so much more!

aleks - k-12 + higher ed learning program. adapts to each student.

biology4kids - learn biology

cosmos4kids - learn astronomy basics

chem4kids - learn chemistry

physics4kids - learn physics

numbernut - math basics (arithmetic, fractions and decimals, roots and exponents, prealgebra)

education.ket - primary to adult. includes highschool equivalent test prep, the core skills. they have a free resource library and they sell workbooks. they have one on work-life essentials (high demand career sectors + soft skills)

youtube channels

the organic chemistry tutor

khanacademy

crashcourse

tabletclassmath

2minmaths

kevinmathscience

professor leonard

greenemath

mathantics

3blue1brown

literacy

readworks - reading comprehension, build background knowledge, grow your vocabulary, strengthen strategic reading

chompchomp - grammar knowledge

tutors

not the "free resource" part of this post but sometimes we forget we can be tutored especially as an adult. just because we don't have formal education does not mean we can't get 1:1 teaching! please do you research and don't be afraid to try out different tutors. and remember you're not dumb just because someone's teaching style doesn't match up with your learning style.

cambridge coaching - medical school, mba and business, law school, graduate, college academics, high school and college process, middle school and high school admissions

preply - language tutoring. affordable!

revolutionprep - math, science, english, history, computer science (ap, html/css, java, python c++), foreign languages (german, korean, french, italian, spanish, japanese, chinese, esl)

varsity tutors - k-5 subjects, ap, test prep, languages, math, science & engineering, coding, homeschool, college essays, essay editing, etc

chegg - biology, business, engineering/computer science, math, homework help, textbook support, rent and buying books

learn to be - k-12 subjects

for languages

lingq - app. created by steve kaufmann, a polygot (fluent in 20+ languages) an amazing language learning platform that compiles content in 20+ languages like podcasts, graded readers, story times, vlogs, radio, books, the feature to put in your own books! immersion, comprehensible input.

flexiclasses - option to study abroad, resources to learn, mandarin, cantonese, japanese, vietnamese, korean, italian, russian, taiwanese hokkien, shanghainese.

fluentin3months - bootcamp, consultation available, languages: spanish, french, korean, german, chinese, japanese, russian, italian.

fluenz - spanish immersion both online and in person - intensive.

pimsleur - not tutoring** online learning using apps and their method. up to 50 languages, free trial available.

incase time has passed since i last posted this, check on the original post (not the reblogs) to see if i updated link or added new resources. i think i want to add laguage resources at some point too but until then, happy learning!!

[thebearer]

Omg Imagine meeting Lip at college and you are majoring in education, and you only know each other through math or something you need help with. You could just befriend him at first because he is a WHORE phase lol.

Idk your dribbles make me think that Lip and his wife have a strong friendship that blossomed to romance after Lip figures his shit out , and she got knocked up very early on lol.

📢ALSO LIP WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE THEN CARMY WHEN HE FINDS OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT BC KAREN TRAUMAAAAAAAAAAA 📢

"Hey," You stride next to Lip, looping the free strap of your backpack on. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Uh, kinda busy." Lip hummed, brows creasing lightly when he looked over at you.

"With your professor?" You gave him a pointed look, a devious smile spreading across your lips when he scoffed.

"Yeah. You got plans with yours?" Lip countered.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I'm not that desperate for a grade." You quipped. "Speaking of, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, because I am going to fail this math test on Wednesday."

"Yeah? And what do you need me for?" Lip grinned, pushing the door open for you. It was so casual, friendly- it made your heart flutter.

"Stop." You shook your head at him. "C'mon, I really need your help. I do your critical theory homework all the time to impress your sexy professor lady, so you owe me."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll stop by after my last. I gotta check with Youens, make sure I got my shit done. Then I can come help you study." Lip nodded casually.

"Ugh, thank you." You sighed, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "I swear, I'm not teaching math ever. I don't understand why I'm in the hardest math class for elementary ed."

"I mean, they probably want their teachers to be halfway smart." Lip shrugged. "Well, maybe not at the shit hole school I went to, but, uh, the good schools."

You snorted. "Yeah? Well, regardless, I'm not teaching math. I'll hold down the language arts, or the history, maybe the science if I have to. But math? Out of the question."

"Not even long division, huh?" Lip grinned.

"To be completely honest with you, I don't think I know how to do long division." You giggled. "I can barely do short division."

Many Years Later

"Lip!" You called, your voice carrying out to the garage, where your husband was "working on the car" (which really meant sneaking a cigarette).

"Yeah?" Lip hummed, walking into the house. Freddie sat at the kitchen table, a tiny frown on his features that mimicked yours perfectly. It made Lip's heart melt.

"Let Daddy see the problem, baby. He's better at math than me." You ran a hand over Freddie's curls sweetly, moving so Lip could take your spot.

Freddie had gotten Lip's freakish ability to do math. He was only six, but doing multiplication and long division already in his advanced groups.

"Lemme see, bud." Lip turned the paper towards him, scanning the problem. "Ah, ok, so you're not carrying the number here." Lip pointed to the problem, explaining it to your tiny son.

Your heart swelled, picking Jude up and hoisting him on your hip, trying to finish loading the dishwasher.

"Always thought your were jokin'." Lip hummed, gently squeezing your ass so you blushed, leaning to kiss the toddler on his head.

"About what?" You raised a brow.

"The long division thing." Lip laughed lightly. You gave him a confused look. "Y'know, when you said you wouldn't teach math and all that."

"Oh," You rolled your eyes playfully. "No, I wasn't. Why do you think I teach language arts now? Can't do all that numbers stuff like you."

Lip smirked, taking the dish from you and putting it in the rack. "How do you even remember that?" You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"That I said that." You giggle. "That was, like, a million years ago."

"Because," Lip shrugged. "I was in love with you."

"No, you weren't." You blushed, dodging Jude's grabbing hands towards your hair. "You had your Mrs. Robinson."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but, you were like my best friend." He said boyishly. Your heart melted. "Still are, but then, I just... I didn't want to fuck it up, ya know?"

"Watch it." You glared at him lightly, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet. I was, like, very much so in love with you too, for the record."

"Yeah?" Lip grinned. You nodded, laughing when he kissed you sweetly over Jude's head. "Kinda had an idea."

"Really? What gave it away? The wedding or the kids?" You said sarcastically.

"No, it was the night that I had to pick you up from that dive bar downtown, and, uh, you were so drunk-"

"-Alright, Gallagher-"

"-And you kept telling me how much you loved me-"

You glared at him. "Jude, Daddy is being mean to me. Can you believe that?" You cooed, frowning exaggeratedly at your son. Jude just babbled, trying to grab at your hair again.

[natashagrandeblog]

Do not skip a car history check free before purchasing a used car. This check will help you understand what is essential to consider when purchasing a used car. Get more reports from CarDotCheck with more thorough information.

[peppermintquartz]

Continuation of this

Buck checks himself out for the tenth time in the mirror. He knows he looks good, but maybe he doesn't look right for trivia night? Dark jeans, his favorite boots, teal sweater... Maybe the sweater is the wrong top. Pulling it off and tossing it on top of the pile that's already on his bed, he grabs his phone and calls his sister.

"Maddie, tell me what to wear on a date to impress Tommy's friends." He pauses briefly. "Indoors, bar, trivia night."

It takes three agonizing seconds before Maddie answers. "The gray crew neck, paired with the rust-colored leather jacket or the brown suede, it brings out your complexion, and I want daisies as a thank you when you come by next."

"Thank you, I love you, say hi to Chim and Jee."

"Use protection!" Maddie gets one in just before Buck hangs up. He rolls his eyes at his phone but grins anyway as he tucks a condom into his back pocket. He might get lucky. He chooses the suede.

-

Tommy picks him up and kisses him sweetly, like they're about to go on a date instead of meeting Tommy's friends who are totally going to judge the hell out of Buck if he screws up Trivia Night.

"You look so good, I'm tempted to ditch them and take you someplace nice," Tommy murmurs against Buck's mouth.

"And have them say I'm a figment of your imagination? Nope. Plus, I dressed up to impress them," says Buck, smiling, giddy from his boyfriend's - boyfriend! Buck is never getting over that word - praise. "Well, Maddie helped to dress me. Wait that came out wrong. I meant, she helped to choose what I should wear. Did you know that royalty and nobility had, like, specific staff who helped to choose what they wore? The women were ladies-in-waiting and they were usually nobility, but of a lower station, and sometimes they were also available as sex partners to the king or the duke or prince or whatever. It's pretty exploitative, when you think about it..."

Buck sees Tommy's fond expression and his words taper off. Shyly, he kisses Tommy again.

"I may have gone down a few too many rabbit holes," he admits.

"That's amazing. You're amazing." Tommy smiles, and starts the car.

-

Buck is introduced to the group. Melton works at Harbor also, and immediately regales Buck with a story of how Tommy pleaded with their captain to drop him off at the hospital and won the bargain with promising to detail the engines the next few shifts.

"You did that for me?" Buck asks. "You didn't have to- Babe, you'd just fought a beast of a fire, I would've understood if you couldn't make it."

Tommy ducks his head, as if embarrassed. "Well, I promised. And the welcome was worth it."

They share a look, remembering the kiss in the lobby.

"You two are so sappy," Melton declares. "Can't believe we used to think you were cool."

"He is cool! He flew a helicopter into a hurricane. And landed on an upside-down cruise ship."

"Yeah, yeah. I still can't believe you're keeping your job after that jaunt."

Fernando, a wiry man with a bald head and a thick, curly beard, is the geography and botany expert. Jill Tan is their science person, her petite form nearly dwarfed by the three firefighters but her laugh is loud and free. Buck likes her. Melton is their sports and world history guy, and Tommy apparently has military and machinery trivia locked down. Buck guesses he's here to round out the team with his list of animal facts and maybe some other random bits that he's picked up on his Wikipedia tours.

"Who's on pop culture?" he asks when Tommy goes to get their drinks.

"That'll be- hey, there she is," says Fernando, waving his hand at someone over Buck's shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late, I meant to be here before Tommy comes with his... Buck?"

"Lucy?"

Fernando sips on his margarita. "So you two know each other?"

"Uh, yes, Lucy used to work at the 118," Buck manages to reply without stuttering. "I didn't know... How are you?"

At least Lucy looks as stunned as Buck feels. "I'm good. I'm, uh, yeah. I'm good. Earning my place in Harbor."

"Hey Donato, you're here. You know Evan, right? Here you go, Evan. Don't give me that look, try it first and then tell me how much you hate it." Tommy slides back into his seat, boxing Buck in.

Buck takes a sip and wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "I don't hate it."

Lucy takes the last empty chair. There's a smile on her face that signals something, but Buck doesn't know what she's planning.

"Didn't know you were the Evan Tommy's been going all swoony about," she says casually. "Now I know why he goes all glassy-eyed when he texts you."

"He goes glassy-eyed and swoony?" Buck is amused and almost... touched? by the idea of Tommy being unable to hide his affection.

Melton nods. "It's good I'm already married, because I'd wanna hit him otherwise for being so blissed out."

"You'd be blissed out too if you're regularly kissed by this guy," Lucy says with a crooked smirk. "I should know."

Jill cackles. "Oh no, you kissed Tommy's boyfriend?"

"I wasn't his boyfriend at the time!" Buck sputters, face turning red. "Also, I was kinda drunk. Never doing that again."

"You were someone's boyfriend at the time though," Lucy continues blithely. "But I'm cute and irresistible, so I get it. I definitely didn't know you're into guys too." She cocks her head and looks straight at Tommy, curious.

"He wasn't consciously aware of that attraction until he met me." Tommy drapes an arm over Buck's shoulders, the weight a welcome focal point for him. "I'm damn lucky I'm the one he decided on. And from now on, all his kisses are for me alone." He meets Lucy's eyes.

Papers and pencils are being passed around. Buck feels the tension ease, in the way that highlights that there was a bit of tension earlier.

"Ugh, gross," Lucy declares, grinning, and hops off to get her own drink.

Jill raises her glass to Buck in a toast. "To bisexuality and knowing yourself!"

"Yeah!" Buck toasts back.

Tommy kisses his cheek. "Let's kick some trivia ass."

--

edited on AO3

[loveacrosstimes]

The Nurse and the Rancher

Summary: Claire, a 27-year-old nurse from NYC accidentally gets transported back to California in 1995. There she meets Jamie, a 25-year-old Scot who recently inherited his uncle's sprawling ranch in St. Helena.

Claire Randall had no cell phone, no wallet, not even a single ballpoint pen to accompany her on her trek through the dusty, humid hell that was small town, California.  

It had a name, sure, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

It wasn’t one of the handful of famous cities she’d learned about back home in New York  — Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco  — but that was the least of her worries.

In the span of eight or so hours, she’d settled into the terrifying reality that not only was she not in New York anymore, but she was somehow nearly 30 years in the past as well. 

June 8, 1995, to be exact.

The rolled-up newspaper under her arm confirmed as much, as did the genial convenience store cashier who’d given it to her for free. That small show of kindness had kept her from falling to her knees and asking God why the worst luck in the world seemed to attach itself to her. 

Traveling to the past on the day before her fifth wedding anniversary, when she and her husband, Frank, were already on icy terms. He thought she spent too much time clocking in at the neonatal unit in the hospital; she thought his nose was too far in his history books. 

Neither was wrong, and once they could see past their own deep-seeded stubbornness, they agreed to fix things. 

After spending weeks in couple’s therapy, this was supposed to be a make-or-break milestone for them. 

A new beginning. 

She’d bought a new dress and a little makeup — because it’d been ages since he’d seen her out of her scrubs — supplies to make his favorite maple cake, and the fixings for a steak dinner. 

And now, she'd vanished without a trace. 

She stopped in the middle of the barely-paved road, unfurling the paper. The number of times she’d glanced down at the date hoping that the numbers changed was mind-boggling — but it was unfailing.

June 8, 1995. 

Eight days into the sixth month of the nineteen hundred and ninety-fifth year. 

In Le Cressida , no less, according to the paper. Wherever that was. 

She pressed an anguished hand onto her forehead.

The California sun, which she’d only heard about in theory before today, beat down on her with no abandon, shellacking her curls to her forehead and plastering her scrubs to her thighs.

If she didn’t get something cold to drink soon, she was going to pass out from dehydration. 

Heeding the directions of the cashier, she turned right in front of the store, walking right down the long, uneven street, until she passed a car repair shop and a check cashing place. 

Sure enough, there was a diner across the way. 

HATTIE’S, spelled in all caps. It was supposed to serve the best chicken and waffles in town, according to the cashier. 

Not that she cared. She just needed sustenance.

And water, God, she needed water. 

Claire pushed open the old creaky doors to the diner, and was immediately enveloped with the cold, crispy breeze of air conditioning and the overwhelming smell of grease.

Perhaps her hunger was overtaking her, but it wasn’t a rancid, turn-her-stomach kind of smell.

It smelled like buttery, artery clogging goodness, swirling with the remnants of chicken and burgers and bacon, and whatever else was sizzling on the big splotchy grill back in the kitchen.

She never allowed herself to enjoy these foods, thanks to the number of patients she’d seen meet their demise from years of overindulging when she was doing her rounds in nursing school. 

But today was no ordinary day.

“Come on in, little lady, you’re letting out the AC,” said a gruff, burly man from behind the counter.   

Claire walked further into the establishment. The floors latched onto her shoes, its thin layer of grime sandwiching itself between the grooves on the bottom of her shoe. 

Inside, she grimaced, but she kept her face leveled to keep from offending the man who stood between her and a tall icy beverage. 

“Sorry about that." She pointed back towards the door. "I got distracted.”

He picked up his notepad and shrugged. “‘It’s alright. Now, what can I get for you?”

She sat her newspaper on the counter, then looked at the menu scrawled out in chalk on a board above. Endless pairings of salt, fat, and protein, slathered in more fat, but only one item made her stomach truly quake. 

“Can I get a double cheeseburger, please? Hold the pickles and extra tomatoes. And a cup of ice water. The biggest size you have.”

He wrote as she talked. “That's all?” 

Glancing back up, she considered adding a carb to the meal. Before the universe whisked her to Le Cressida, she’d been making her daily walk to Mount Sinai Hospital. She was halfway there before she realized she’d left her purse at home, but she didn’t think much of it. 

Obviously, she should’ve.

Now, she only had the $50 worth of emergency money she kept in her bra — something NYC pickpockets couldn’t swipe — to pay with. Through some measure of a miracle, it’d made it through this journey here with her. And since she didn’t know how long she’d have to stretch it, she couldn’t go overboard. 

“Yes, that’s all — thank you, uh, Danny,” she said, finally noticing his name tag. 

With a nod, he turned and headed towards the kitchen. 

As he fetched her food, Claire familiarized herself with the surroundings.

The diner walls were dyed with what looked like years of unfiltered oil and smoke residue. There was a large neon, Coca-Cola sign on the wall to the right of the large windows, across from the counter. The retro kind she’d seen in her mother’s old magazines she collected in her early 20s. On the other wall was a board full of polaroid photos she couldn’t make out from her seat. In the other corner was a jukebox that looked like it’d been plucked straight out of the ‘60s – probably why it wasn’t on.

Or maybe it was because the diner was nearly empty. Besides her, two other patrons were sitting in a booth that lined the windows — peculiar for 3:12 p.m, no matter what decade you were in. 

Then again, it wasn’t quite time for the dinner rush yet. 

Or maybe HATTIE'S just didn’t turn over much business. 

She didn’t intend to stay here long enough to figure it out. 

After she got a good meal in her belly, she was going to wander a couple of miles back to the edge of the forest where the universe had spit her out and see if she could get back home.

Glancing backward towards the door, she looked across the way. There was barely any foot traffic along the few businesses that lined the street. It made the expansive nothingness surrounding them in every direction seem more storied, more menacing. 

Just as Claire turned her attention back to the counter, Danny emerged with her order. “Here you go, little lady.” 

She whipped around with a gleam in her eyes. “Thanks, this looks amazing,” she said about the very generic-looking diner burger coated in a thin layer of grease and grill marks – even the bread. 

Yet, it wasn’t long before she was shoveling in her food with both hands, slowing only to gulp down streams of her water. The food wasn’t nearly as tasty as it smelled, and yet it was the most delicious meal she’d ever had in her life. Determined to savor every morsel, she didn’t notice Danny, propped up near the counter, watching her intently. 

“Slow down, ma’am, I don’t know the Heimlich maneuver,” he said with a guttural laugh. 

Face flaming from embarrassment, Claire slowly raised her head and reached for the napkin dispenser. “I’m sorry … I haven’t eaten in hours,” she said, wiping traces of grease from her mouth and hands. 

But he waved her away. “Oh, I’m just funnin' ya. It’s nice to see someone appreciate the cuisine.”

Claire picked up what was left of her burger. “Well, it’s amazing.” A lie and a truth. “I’ll, um, have to come this way more often.”

Though, if the universe cared about her even a little bit, this would be the last time they ever crossed paths, because she’d be able to figure out how to get out of Dodge, and back home. 

Or maybe she’d just wake up from this very bad dream or perhaps even a coma. She hadn’t completely ruled that this wasn’t an elaborate hallucination, after all.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind. It’s always nice to see a new face now and again – especially one so pretty.”

Ignoring Danny, she took another bite from her burger, not wanting to entertain even the mildest flirtation from this man. 

Even if she wasn’t married, he wasn’t her type. 

“Plus, we don’t get many medical folks in this part.”

“Oh?” She asked brow raised slightly. 

“No, the nearest hospital is about 10 miles out.” 

“Yeah, I know,” she said quickly – perhaps too quickly. “But I was doing a house call nearby...” she added, offering up that tidbit before he could find any gaps in her story. “For a homebound patient.”

The less the locals knew of her situation the better. She was already in a strange town in an unfamiliar time. The last thing she needed were people sniffing around her trying to figure out where she was from.

All she had to offer them was the truth, and in this case, it was certainly stranger than fiction. 

"Dedicated eh?” he said, the answer seeming to satisfy him.

She smiled again. “Yes. I love my work.” That part was true. “Anyway, how much was the meal?” She reached into her bra for all the money she had in the world. Her poor father, he’d roll in his grave if he knew.

“Let’s see, a burger, extra tomatoes, and ice water. $5.56.”

“Really?” She asked, unable to contain her surprise. That same meal would’ve been at least $12-15 in 2024 —  and that's without a tip.

“Yep. Surely that’s not too steep for a nurse – I hear y’all make good money.”

“No, it’s very affordable. I’m just … surprised.”

He shrugged again. “Shouldn’t be. Things are cheaper out here in the sticks.” 

“I'm learning.” 

He reached for her money and walked over to the register.

She turned her attention back to her water, downing the rest of it. Barely satiated, but feeling stronger to restart her journey. 

Behind her the door jingled, alerting her to another patron, but she was too transfixed with the temporary relief.

It wasn’t until he stood next to her at the counter that she noted his statuesque physique. A long, lean body, accented by bulging muscles,  topped with a mess of auburn curls. 

He was wearing loose-fitting jeans, gathered at the waist with a belt and a plaid button down with what looked to be cut-off sleeves.

He was a cowboy or a cosplayer. 

Was cosplaying even a thing in the 90s? Her knowledge of the decade mostly amounted to the 90s-era TV she’d grown up with and the stories from her mother’s days as a wild, uninhibited twenty-something she’d heard about from her aunt Tiffany. She couldn’t remember any mention of the costume-heavy conventions that had taken root during her lifetime.

Either way, he was undeniably handsome in a way it’d be improper to harp on as a married woman.

So she didn’t harp .

She took only a moment to familiarize herself with this deliriously handsome figure standing feet away.

He noticed her a beat later and tilted his cowboy hat towards her. 

She flashed him a meek smile, then forced her gaze forward. 

Danny returned to the counter with a conflicted look on his face. 

“I’ll be with you in just one second, Jamie,” he said to the man he was obviously familiar with. 

Jamie, as she now knew him, nodded, then took the fourth seat at the counter, leaving two empty seats between them. 

Turning back in front of her, Claire caught the man’s expression, turning her face downward into a frown. “Everything okay?” She asked, a prickly filling rooting itself in her stomach. 

And it wasn't because of the greaseball of a burger she'd scarfed down.

“It will be after you tell me where you got this money.” 

She blinked slowly, taken aback. “Umm, an ATM?

“Which one?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does when the money is counterfeit,” he said, holding the bill up into the air next to a second $50 bill he’d pulled from the register. 

Pressing her hands into the counter, Claire leaned forward.  “Are you seriously accusing me of giving you fake money?” 

“I am.”

“This is preposterous. I have a good job, and I am married to a man with a good job. I have no reason to hawk fake cash.”

“I don't need your life story, little lady. All I know is that Ulysses S. Grant’s head is the wrong size, misaligned, and the numbers are missing those little circles. Not to mention this bill says series 2024. 20, 25 – nearly 30 years into the future. So unless you rode up in town in a time machine, you’re dealing fake money, and you got it from someone who didn’t give a damn enough to make it look real.”

Eyes wide, Claire froze, the unsettling realization sinking into her bones. Of course, the money looked weird — it wasn’t yet in circulation. Thank God she hadn’t tried to pay with the new $100 bills; Danny would really crap his pants then. “Can I see it?” She asked, hoping that if she could get her hands on it, she could somehow explain away the abnormalities.

Or at the very least snatch it and make a quick escape. 

Where the hell she would flee, she didn’t know, but she knew she didn’t need another problem added to her plate.

“No … and guess what else? I’m going to have to call the Sheriff.”

“Sheriff?! Why?!” She yelled, garnering the attention of the other patrons – including the Ginger-haired man sitting two seats down. He'd already been quietly assessing the scene, but her outburst inspired a less casual observance.

"It’s the rules. We have to confiscate fake bills. He stopped, his gaze thickening as he allowed his eyes to travel from her face down her body. For the first time that day, this somewhat neutral stranger made her skin crawl. “But you look to be about his type  — bat those pretty eyelashes of yours and you’ll probably be able to get off with a warning.”

“Surely, you’re not suggesting that I use my womanly wiles to fix a problem made by your egregious accusation.”

“Egregious!? You’re the one trying to cheat out a small diner in a small town with your fake money. What happens to you is not my problem. What is, is making sure you don’t do it again.”

This was the last thing she needed.

Actually, being whisked into the past the day before her anniversary was the last thing she needed, but this certainly wasn’t helping. 

Especially now. It’d only be a matter of hours before Frank realized she was missing – that’s if her job hadn’t called him because she hadn’t shown up for work that day. She needed to figure out how to get back home before she made the local news. 

Unable to help herself, her tears built and fell hard and fast. She pressed her elbows into the counter and rested her face in her hands. “I cannot fucking believe this is my life,” she said under her breath. 

Danny turned to reach for the corded phone on the wall — another nostalgic relic from decades past she would now associate with one of the worst days of her life.  But before he could dial the Sheriff, a thick Scottish accent spoke up beside her. 

“Wait, Danny,” said the voice she quickly realized was Jamie’s. “Let me pay for the lass’ meal. It can’t be that much.”

Eyes wide, Claire shot the man a surprised glance. The other man held the phone in the air, looking between them, brows furrowed. Whoever he was, was somebody that Danny respected, as his inquiry had momentarily halted his desire for “justice.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said after a beat. “I don’t want to give an outsider the impression that it’s okay to get over on us small-town folk.”

“Just this one time.” He said, tilting his head her way. “The lass looks like she’d had a long day." Reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, he pulled out a $50 bill, dangling the money in front of the cook with a charming smile.

Danny shot her one more contemptuous glance, then returned his attention to Jamie. “And I can keep the change?” He bargained. 

“$50 for a burger and some water? You must ken me a Gomerel,” Jamie objected.

“And you must ‘ken’ me a brassy-haired Scot,” Danny returned with a laugh. “But that was your uncle, not me."

“Come on, Danny. Ye’re robbing me blind.” 

He shrugged. “That’s my price for not turning in the thief.”

Claire, who’d become more transfixed with this kind man’s thick, Scottish accent than she wanted to admit – rooted herself back in the present at his insult. “I am not a thief.”

"No, you’re just a woman handing out Party City money to hard working, small town folk.” 

Unable to help herself, Claire wound herself up to unleash an insult in kind, but Jamie interjected. "Fine, I’ll give you the $50,” Jamie replied. 

With a sigh, Danny hung the phone back up on the wall. “Fine, you got yourself a deal,” he said, taking the money from Jamie. “And I’m still keeping this,” he said, referencing Claire’s $50. 

It was the bit of cash she owned, but being absolutely broke was better than spending the night in the local jail, a fate she’d escaped thanks to this stranger. “Whatever,” she said, rising from her seat at the counter. 

Danny deposited the money into the register just as a few more people walked into the diner. More trickled in across the way. Adults, teens, kids – school and work was obviously over for the day.

And if time moved at the same pace here as it did back home, Frank would be expecting her home within a couple of hours. 

But as eager as she was to get back, she had to take care of something first. She took a step forward where the man was seated. “Thank you so much … Jamie,” she said slowly with a smile. “You didn’t have to do that, but I am so, so grateful that you did.”

He humped his shoulders. “It was nothing,” he replied in that thick, mellifluous accent of his. “But I wouldn’t suggest you try that again. People don’t take kindly to scammers in these parts.”

“I really wasn’t trying to scam anyone. I have no idea how I ended up with fake money,” she lied, though it actually wasn't a lie.

Tilting his head, he looked at her incredulously – as if he didn’t believe even an ounce of her story. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just be careful."

She nodded, unwilling to even scrounge up an explanation that he would believe, mainly because she didn’t have one – at least not on such short notice. Also, because for a moment, she got lost in the oceanic depths of his gorgeous blue eyes. 

“I will,” she said eventually. “And thanks again.” 

“It was my pleasure,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face. 

Turning back to the counter, Claire grabbed her newspaper and the rest of her ice water, then turned towards the door. 

Just as she reached the exit, he called out to her. 

“What’s your name again, lass?” 

She turned on the balls of her feet, meeting his inquiry. “What was that?”

“Yer name.”

“Oh. I’m Claire …" she said, "Claire Randall."

“It was nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Jamie. Jamie Fraser.”

**********

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

It's also available on AO3!

[ameliaisla09]

Why Vehicle History Check Report is Important in UK?

What is Vehicle History Report?

A vehicle history check report is a document that provides detailed information about the past of a specific vehicle. It compiles data from various sources, such as government agencies, insurance companies, auto auctions, and other sources, to provide a comprehensive overview of the vehicle's history.

Why Vehicle History Check is Important in UK?

Vehicle history reports are important in the UK for several reasons:

1. Legal Compliance: In the UK, it is a legal requirement for sellers to provide accurate information about the history of the vehicle they are selling. A vehicle history report helps sellers fulfill this obligation by providing a detailed record of the vehicle's past, including any accidents, thefts, outstanding finance, or other important information. By obtaining a vehicle history report, sellers can ensure they comply with the law and avoid potential legal issues.

2. Consumer Protection: For buyers, a vehicle history report provides important information to make an informed purchasing decision. It helps identify potential issues with the vehicle, such as undisclosed damage, outstanding finance, or mileage discrepancies. By knowing the vehicle's history, buyers can assess its condition, value, and reliability. This empowers them to negotiate a fair price and avoid buying a vehicle with hidden problems.

3. Safety and Security: A vehicle history report in the UK can reveal critical safety information, such as whether the vehicle has been involved in serious accidents or if it has been stolen. This knowledge is essential for ensuring the safety of both the buyer and other road users. Additionally, by checking for theft records, buyers can protect themselves from unknowingly purchasing a stolen vehicle, which could result in legal consequences and financial loss.

4. Financial Protection: The free vehicle history check report helps buyers verify if there is any outstanding finance or loans associated with the vehicle. This information is crucial as it ensures that the vehicle is not encumbered by financial obligations that could be transferred to the new owner. Without a history report, buyers may unknowingly acquire a vehicle with hidden financial burdens, potentially resulting in repossession or legal complications.

5. Resale Value: A comprehensive vehicle history report can increase the resale value of a vehicle. When selling a used vehicle, providing potential buyers with a transparent history report instills confidence and trust. Buyers are more likely to pay a fair price for a vehicle with a documented history, resulting in a better resale value for the seller.

What things do I have to know for a vehicle history check?

When conducting a free vehicle history check, there are several important things you should look for and consider. Here are some key elements to focus on:

Vehicle Identification Number (VIN): Obtain the VIN of the vehicle you're interested in and ensure it matches the VIN on the vehicle and in the documentation. The VIN is a unique identifier that allows you to access the vehicle's history.

Accident History: Look for any reported accidents or damage history. This information can help you assess the extent of the damage, the repairs made, and the overall condition of the vehicle. Pay attention to any major accidents that may have affected the structural integrity or safety of the vehicle.

Odometer Readings: Verify the accuracy of the recorded mileage. Look for any discrepancies or signs of potential odometer tampering, as falsely low mileage can inflate the value of the vehicle. Make sure the mileage aligns with the age and condition of the vehicle.

Service and Maintenance Records: Check if the vehicle has a comprehensive service history. Regular maintenance indicates that the previous owners took good care of the vehicle. Look for records of oil changes, inspections, and repairs. This information helps assess the overall condition and reliability of the vehicle.

Vehicle Use: Determine if the vehicle has been used for commercial purposes, such as rental or fleet use. Commercial use may indicate higher mileage or more wear and tear on the vehicle.

Theft and Recovery: Check if the vehicle has been reported stolen and subsequently recovered. This information is crucial to ensure you are not purchasing a stolen vehicle, which could lead to legal troubles and financial loss.

Outstanding Finance: Verify if there are any outstanding loans, liens, or financial obligations associated with the vehicle. Ensure that the seller has clear ownership and that there are no hidden financial burdens that could transfer to you as the new owner.

[caranalyticscarcheck]

What is included in a free car check report?

In the UK, a free car check report typically refers to a vehicle history check that provides important information about the car's background and condition. While the specifics may vary among different providers, here are some common elements included in a free car check report in the UK:

MOT Status, MOT Due, MOT Advisory, TAX, MOT Record Count, Vehicle age, make,model

Vehicle identification: The report will confirm the vehicle's make, model, and registration number, along with other identifying details.

MOT history: It will provide details about the car's MOT (Ministry of Transport) test history, including past test results, dates, and any advisories or failures.

Mileage verification: The report may include mileage information obtained from various sources, such as previous MOT tests, service records, and other data points, to help verify the accuracy of the displayed mileage.

Vehicle registration history: The report may provide details about the vehicle's previous registration history, including any changes in registration plates.

It's important to note that while a free car check report can provide valuable information, it may not offer a comprehensive inspection of the vehicle's mechanical or structural condition. For a thorough assessment, it's advisable to consider a professional inspection by a mechanic or a dedicated vehicle inspection service.

When buying a used car, can I rely on a free check alone?

When buying a used car, relying solely on a free check may not provide you with a comprehensive assessment of the vehicle's condition. While a free check can be a useful starting point, it typically only offers a basic inspection and may not cover all potential issues or provide detailed information.

Here are a few reasons why relying solely on a free check may not be sufficient:

Limited scope: Free checks often have limitations on the depth of inspection they provide. They may only focus on basic aspects such as fluid levels, tire condition, and battery health. More critical components and potential hidden issues may not be thoroughly examined.

Lack of expertise: Free checks are usually performed by generalists or service advisors who may not have extensive technical knowledge. They might not be able to identify specific problems or diagnose complex issues that require specialized expertise.

Incomplete history: A free car check online typically doesn't include a detailed analysis of the vehicle's history, such as accident reports, maintenance records, or previous repairs. This information is crucial for assessing the car's overall condition and potential issues it may have.

To ensure a more comprehensive evaluation before purchasing a used car, it's generally recommended to consider the following:

Professional inspection: Hire a qualified mechanic or a reputable inspection service to conduct a thorough inspection of the vehicle. They can assess the mechanical, electrical, and structural aspects, as well as identify any potential problems or hidden issues.

Vehicle history report: Obtain a vehicle history report through services like car analytics. These reports provide valuable information about the car's previous owners, accidents, title status, service records, and more.

Test drive: Take the car for a test drive to evaluate its performance, handling, and overall driving experience. This allows you to check for any unusual sounds, vibrations, or potential issues that may not be apparent during a stationary inspection.

By combining a professional inspection, a vehicle history report, and a test drive, you'll have a more comprehensive understanding of the used car's condition and can make a more informed decision before purchasing.

[james-is-here]

Babes, Okay, Cheat fic idea and guess what....I use my ex's actual name cause he was honestly a jerk on the brink of being a dick.

The plot twist is that this cheat fic is more like a revenge fic in a way cause- Well, just read it, it's better than explaining it 😅 the member I used is also a mystery and I gave Mn arm tats cause it's a weakness of mine.

Specifically for @succubus-hansol because filth. This smut is filthy and messy.

Blogs: @belladonna6-6-6 @heartbinn @leezanetheofficial @yongbokkk @michelle4eve @dontwannaexsist (Imk if I forgot you or you want to be added.

You were none the wiser about what your boyfriend was doing. You loved Shawn and he loved you, you trusted him and never saw him badly, he was the sweetest.

You didn't suspect the new cologne on him, the new hoodie, bruises, new necklaces, hiding his phone, elated attitude when he visited you, giving you vague answers when you ask where he's going....

Wait...

You didn't give him those things and his recent hiding from you is suspicious. How have you not looked into it sooner? Especially when he use to shrug when you took his phone, now he makes up excuses as to getting it out of your hand.

"Hey, where you going?" "Um...my mom needs my to help in her garden. I'll be back later." Okay, that's suspicious. "Isn't your car with your brother?" "Oh, I'm taking an uber." "Oh, okay. Love you!" You yell but he's already out the door. That's what tipped you off, first he was wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt and loose fitting slacks and boots. Second, he hates getting dirty, he doesn't do anything that gets him or his hands dirty.

When he came home hours later, he was tipsy, swaying everywhere and tripping over his feet before collapsing onto the couch and you watched from the dining table.

His phone ends up on the floor and you take the chance to check it. You two shouldn't hide things from each other but he does and you can't help but to listen to the devil on your shoulder, while your angel is trying to get you to trust Shawn but all you do is block it out.

You pick up his phone and unlock it, surprisingly it's the same passcode as always and yet he keeps it from you. Opening his app history, you see his messages and see that he's texting someone with the cliche contact name of "Doordash". Did he really think that you'd think the app itself was texting him?

Doordash: You just left and I already miss you 🥺

Doordash: When can we meet up again?

Doordash: I'm free tomorrow, wanna meet up at the convenience store next to my place?

Is he...seeing someone behind your back? Clearly this person doesn't know about you like you didn't know about him.

Scrolling through other messages, your chest tightens when you check a chat and realize that's it's yours and he fucking named you "Grubhub".

There's other contacts and fake names that haven't had any interactions in years, you and "Doordash" are the only ones minus his family members.

You pull out your phone and open your uber that you shared with him. Last ride on your account was surprisingly thirty minutes away. Closing out of the app and opening your contacts, you make a new one and save the "Doordash" number before going back to the other persons number.

After forever of texting Shawn, you know how to play the part.

You: Of course ❤️ I'm free as well, what time?

Doordash: Five okay with you? Wanna take you out before taking you to my bed. 😏

Damn, whoever this was is one smooth motherfucker.

You: Oh I can't wait 😩 See you then 😘

You delete the messages on your end then put the phone back with Shawn and leave yourself a reminder of what you just committed to.

What's shocking is you don't really feel hurt that he's been lying to you. Maybe a little but honestly you think you'll survive without Shawn.

When your reminder went off, Shawn was passed out in bed still. He woke up on the couch, hungover and in pain, so he was sleeping the previous night off.

"Mn, where you going?" He mumbled when he heard you digging through your closet. "Boss called me in for a little bit for a staff meeting and I need to pick up my paycheck. Won't be gone long." "Mmm okay." He hums as he stretches before settling and promptly passing out.

Leaving the bedroom with jeans and a grey t-shirt hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, showing the black ink chinese dragon wrapped around your right forearm and ivy vines wrapped around your left.

You grab a white cap and your keys, slipping on your shoes then heading out the door. The drive is short and you have to park across the street but looking around, you don't see anyone possibly looking for someone else until ten minutes after the set time.

A guy wearing all black walked to the door of the convenience store and leaned against the wall next to it, checking his phone and then turning his head back and forth, this has to be him.

Turning off your car, you get out quickly then cross the street, leaning on the other side of the door. You wait a couple minutes, glancing at him a couple times before the bell of the store rings. "Excuse me, you both are loitering. Either come in and get something or leave." The store owner scolds and you went to speak but the other spoke first. "Sorry, Ma'am, I'm just waiting for my boyfriend-" You quickly jump in, knowing she won't take that as an excuse. "No problem, Ma'am, we'll get out of your hair."

You give the other a tight lipped smile and walk over to him. "Sorry, come on." He surprisingly follows you to the side of the shop and you both find a bench. "Um, so why'd you do that? I was actually waiting for someone." "Sorry, again. Who were you waiting for?" "My boyfriend. His name is Shawn. I really should at least go back, at least nearby so he can find me."

He goes to stand but you stop him. "So you're Doordash?" "I- Excuse me?" Sighing, you rub your eyes and lean back. "Uh, okay...Shawn wasn't the one that messaged you to meet him here. It was me. He's also my boyfriend..." "What? No, Shawn wouldn't do that to me." "I thought the same thing. He told me last night he was going to help his mom in the garden." He sat up and looked at you almost in realization. "When he left my place he said he needed to get home to take care of his mom cause she was sick." "He came home tipsy last night." "We...We drank last night, how the fuck didn't I make that connection?" He berates himself and slouches back against the bench.

You both stare at the road ahead of you before you speak up. "Well...I'm Mn. What's your actually name Mister Doordash?" "Doordash?" You snicker at his confused face, thinking about it he is really cute. "Shawn named you Doordash in his phone. I was Grubhub." "That's so dumb." "That's what I said!" You laughed and a small smile graces his face. "I'm Chris or Chan. Guess it's...nice to meet you? I don't know." "I don't know either."

You both stare at the road again but you turn to look at Chan. He really did look cute, you guess Shawn can choose good men. He has a good looking face, fluffy hair peaking out of the beanie he wore, and you couldn't help but take in every detail, including how soft his lips looked, then you realized they were moving.

"Your ink looks cool." "Huh?" You blink, spaced out for a moment. "Your tats, they look really cool." "Oh, thanks." "So...Since we're both currently ghosting Shawn, wanna go get something to eat? It's better than sitting here and honestly I don't want to go home yet." You notice he's looking down at his fidgeting hands and glancing at your arms.

"Yeah, beats failing to try and get back at him and not coming up with anything." Honestly, since looking through his phone, the devil on your shoulder has taken the reins and you honestly wouldn't mind getting back at Shawn by using Chan.

"Can I be straight with you?" "Um, I think that'd still make you gay." You shake your head with a smirk as you laugh, throwing your head back. "Oh, you got jokes, huh?" He lets out a laugh and it's clear that the awkwardness is gone.

"I meant, smartass, can I be honest with you?" He giggles and nods. "Yeah." "We go get food, I pay, and then we get back at Shawn." "We?" You hum and stand up. "Food first, honestly I'm really hungry. I'll tell you then, yeah?" He sits up, looking up at you and then sighing and standing. "Yeah, okay. You will pay, right? Shawn makes me pay." "I always pay." "Okay then."

He actually takes you to Changbin's restaurant, his best friend. A homey bistro Chan helped him make a reality. "Who's this?" Changbin asked when Chan brought you to the bar in front of the open kitchen. "Funny story, actually. Mn, this is Changbin. Changbin, this is Mn, Shawn's boyfriend." Changbin choked on the water he was sipping and almost dropped his cup.

"You're joking." Chan sighs and sits down, you sitting next to him. "Nope. Apparently we were secrets, even in his phone." "Ooh, what were your names?" Changbin has heard of fast food contact names but has never heard it in person so he was eager to hear as he leaned on the bar in front of him. "Doordash." Chan answered and you followed with, "Grubhub."

Changbin grimaces and whistles lowly. "That's sucks. Anyways, whatcha want to eat?" Chan orders his and you get the same thing, not really sure what to get since his friend's menu looked really good.

When he delivered your food, Chan immediately started eating but you messed with your fries. "Hey, daydreamer, you okay?" Changbin teases when he returned from another customer. "Oh, yeah." "Thought you were super stunned by your food but you haven't even eaten anything." "Sorry, just never been cheated on and I feel like I should be upset. I mean I am but I also don't care." "People react differently. Honestly, if I was you I'd get revenge sex." Chan choked on his soda, couching and gasping and you reach over and pat his back.

"Ch-Changbin!" "What? That's just me." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I like you...funnily enough, I've actually been thinking the same thing." "Seriously?" Chan cleans up the soda he spilled and Changbin lowers his hands. "Yeah."

Chan didn't know how to answer, he just looked away and this time it was him staring at his fries. "Well, sleeping with other people wouldn't really be revenge but I guess-" "Dude, of course it's not revenge. I meant you and Mn. I-I mean if you want, y'know." Then he glances at you. "He's not bad looking, if you don't take him I will." You chuckle shyly while finally eating your fries. "Plus, you do have a thing for tat-" "Changbin! Please...I love you, mate, but shut up." "Dude, don't yell at me, you literally look like you brought him on a date."

He suddenly looks around, an older couple in a booth, a younger couple a couple seats down from you at the bar, and a teen on a laptop with headphones on at a table near the window. Looking at you, he smiles sheepishly. "Sorry." "It's okay. Also wouldn't mind getting revenge with you." "Really?" "Yeah." You smile, looking down at the counter, glancing at Chan's friend then back to Chan. "Shawn is good a picking the cute ones."

He sighs, a shy grin on his face as he rests his elbows on the counter and covers his face. "He flusters easily, doesn't he?" "He's usually confident and flirty, this is a first." "Oh really?" Changbin snickers when you lean over to Chan and he doesn't notice. "Chan?" He uncovers his face to look at Changbin but jumps when he sees your smirking face, dropping his hands onto the counter with a small slap as he leans away, hiding his smile in his shoulder as he completely blocks the two of you out.

"You both are jerks." You lean back to your seat with a soft chuckle and watch Chan straighten back up. "Are you serious though?" "I'm not usually one to sleep with people I just met but yeah, I am." Suddenly Changbin is harshly setting down his towel on the counter and leaving from behind the bar and coming over to Chan, pushing him out of his chair then pushing you out of yours.

"For two people who just met, there's a lot of tension so go take care of it, lunch is on me, go, go, go." "Wait, I said I'd pay though." "Don't fight with Changbin, if he says it's on him, it's on him, I've tried." Chan answers you as his friend shoves you out.

"Go, forget Shawn, have fun, I don't know." He pushes you out the door and then shrugs at the end of his sentence. "I swear, why am I friends with him?" "I heard that!" He yelled from the other side of the door.

Standing there awkwardly, you put your hands in your pockets and look down at the sidewalk. "Um, we don't have to at this moment...we could just watch a movie if that's okay." Maybe a movie could relax your nerves a little. "Yeah, that's okay." He smiles and steps away with you following, taking you to his place which is surprisingly a block away.

His apartment was cozy, not too many decorations but enough to show his personality and what he likes. "It not much but it's mine." is what he said when the both of you entered. "It's nice." You replied.

Now you sat on his couch, he sat cross legged on one side and you were stretched out on the other, arms crossed lazily on your stomach. It was a bit awkward, just sitting there in silence but it was okay.

Chan suddenly moved to sit closer to you and you glance at him from your peripheral. "How long had you been with Shawn?" "Mmm a year?" "Damn..." "What?" "He was with you before me. Six months." You shake your head, honestly astonished with this information.

Bringing up his knees, you saw his hand reach out to your leg before it stopped and his arm wrapped around his legs. Bringing a knee up, your thigh moved closer to him and you readjust, an arm going over the back of the couch, and he moved slowly to mess with the threads of your ripped jeans, turning his head only slightly but mostly hiding his face in his knees.

He slowly moves from the threads to the edge of the rip and then his fingers slip into the rips, fingers soft on the small exposure of your thigh.

Hesitantly, you take his hand into yours, just holding it but he tightens the hold slightly and pulls it towards him while crossing his legs and holding it in his lap, not even realizing he's practically encased himself with your arms in front of him and behind him.

His fingers are light while tracing over the head of your tattooed dragon, tracing its body and turning your arm to trace the lightning around its body. You stare at the side of his head, watching his eyes take in the details of the ink.

For a moment, you get lost in his beautiful features. You suddenly act on impulse, his hands moving from your arm when you raise your hand to his chin and turned him towards you. "You trapped yourself." You said softly and his eyes move around rapidly and suddenly realize where he is. "O-Oh, sorry." "You really do like people with ink, don't you?" "Yeah. I-I don't know why...just looks cool."

Tilting your head, you move forward and kiss his cheek, then his jaw, and when he doesn't pull away you move under his jaw, your kisses were soft and were barely there.

He inhaled sharply when you pressed your lips under his jaw, specifically under his ear, and you graze your teeth over the spot to get his reaction, a barely audible whine, before biting and sucking. Biting his lip, he lets out a soft moan and automatically tilts his head to give you more room and you move your hand from holding his chin to under the other side of his jaw and hold him where he was.

Attacking more of his neck, his noises were soft and held back as he kept his mouth shut, his hand moving to your knee, nails digging into your knees and causing a dull pain but your jeans lessen it.

Your hand moves to his thigh as you move back on the couch, getting closer and pulling his thigh towards you which makes the male move, uncrossing his legs and moving just as close.

Without thinking, your left hand still on the back of the couch moves to the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair then pull him back. That finally got a noise out of him, his lips parting and letting out a soft moan as he turns his head slightly towards you, lips still parted as his chest heaves out the soft pants he's panting out. His eyes wide and glancing at your lips, shining with spit from your recent attack.

You lean forward slowly, tilting your head and your lips barely touch before one of your phones is ringing. Pulling away, you look towards the sound and find your phone on the coffee table, Shawn's contact on the screen.

Looking back to Chan, he nods his head and you let go of his hair, leaning forward and picking your phone up before answering it bringing it to your ear at the same time Chan sits up, pushing you against the back of the couch and you watch as he throws his leg over your spread legs and sits on your lap.

"Oh-" "Mn? You okay, you've been gone for ages." You put the phone on speaker and hold it away from yourself as Chan places his left hand on your neck and his right on your bicep then leans into your neck, returning the marks that you gave him. "Ah~ Yeah, I'm okay, did you need something?" "No, just miss you. Thought it was just a staff meeting and getting your check?" "I-It was, boss kept me longer. He promoted me." "That's amazing!" That promotion was two weeks ago. "So you'll be home soon?" "Yeah, I should be. M-Mom asked me to stop and pick up dog food for Brexit." "Okay...Well, hurt back, yeah?" "I will." "Okay. See you soon, Mn." "You too, bye Shawn."

You hang up, tossing your phone onto the floor softly before placing your hands on Chan's thighs and turning to the left, laying him down and hovering above him between his legs. "You are braver than you look." "Thank you?" He asks with a laugh which made you smile.

"Now, can I continue what I was doing before I was interrupted?" "Yes. Please." Smiling, you lean down, barely touching his lips before you change your mind and lean up slightly, lifting your hand and thumbing his bottom lip, parting his lips further apart, his eyes locked on yours that are on his lips. "So obedient even though you just met me." His eyes flutter as he whines. You gently push his bottom lip back up so he closes mouth around your thumb and it's like automatic as he start sucking it. "How did Shawn get a hold of you? He hates being dominate."

He moans around your thumb when you push into his tongue then slip your thumb from his lips. "I-I'm m-more of a switch...but I haven't really, um, switched...guess I could only find subs so I never was one." "Well, now you can be."

Finally, you lean down and connect your lips, firm and absolutely certain that this is what you want cause when your lips connected with his full, soft ones and they parted easily for you, you didn't want to stop as you slipped your tongue in and swipe it along his, pulling a proper moan out of him and he sounds so good you can't help but groan in return.

His arms drape around your neck and pull you closer. In return, you act on impulse and lower yourself onto him and he moans again when your pelvis meets his, grinding your clothed growing hard-on into his.

Breaking apart for air, you move to his neck again and his back arches closer to you. "H-Hyung- Fuck, sorry." His hand flys to his mouth as you pick your head up. "So you have a thing for tatted older men?" "Am I wrong? I'm sorry." "I'm two years older than Shawn." "Same age as him..." Smiling, you kiss the corner of his mouth. "Then no, you're not wrong."

You lean back down, pressing your lips firmly to his before a ring tone goes off again. "Are you fucking serious?" You groan as you look up and grab Chan's phone, he takes it and answers but his hips still jolt up to meet yours. "Hey." "Chan! I'm bored~ Can we hang out?" "Um, one sec, can you call me back in a few minutes, I'm busy at the current moment." "Oh, yeah, sure." Chan hangs up, putting his phone on the table and pushing you off him to switch spots with him straddling your lap.

He pushes your shirt out of the way and drags his nails down your toned stomach before he comes to your belt, fingers fiddling with your buckle in fake struggle, fingers nudging into your bulge below the accessory as he pulls it apart, the buckle clinking against itself while he unbuttons your pants then slowly dragging down the zipper.

"Chan...Baby, go faster." You pant out before throwing your head back against the cushion when his hand palms you and opens your pants wider to fully hold you. Hissing at the sensation before huff out a moan and look back down at Chan's movements. "Fuck." "Baby make Hyung feel good?" He asked, his eyes wide and wanting as he bit his lip, humping into his own hand. "Yeah, baby. Shit, making hyung feel so good." His hand squeezes your bulge slightly before he lets go and pulls down your boxers.

Hissing at the cold air, you grip his thighs, attempting to pull him closer. "Hyung so...big...and heavy..." He purposefully lets some of his spit drip onto your tip as he begins to stroke you. "Baby, remember, Shawn's calling you back soon." "I know. You answer when he does and switch it to video call." "You crazy?" "For you? I am now. You think I'd let a guy and dick like you go?"

You chuckle as he scoots back on the couch, pulling your jeans further down to your knees and only pulls your boxers down to mid-thigh. "Gonna suck me off, Baby?"

His answer is taking your tip between his lips, tongue lapping at your pre-cum and swirling around your tip. "Fuck, so good." He takes more of you into his mouth, tongue moving rapidly on the underside of your cock, he moans as he pulls off of you with a 'pop' and exhales heavily as he strokes you, licking the underside of your cock. His actions all messy and sticky with saliva and pre.

His phone goes off again and you look over, grabbing it then looking back down to Chan who nods with a dazed smile and blown pupils. Answering it, you change it to video chat and point it at the ceiling before switching the camera to face the floor. "Chan? Why are you showing your floor, silly?"

He taps your thigh as he takes your cock down his throat and you groan as your head falls back, temporarily distracted as his warm, wet mouth takes you all the way in. "Ooh, you jerking off babe? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

You sigh out a moan, lifting your head then facing the phone towards Chan. "Wha- What the fuck, Chan?! You're cheating on me?!" You groan as he pulls up, his tongue sticking out as he reaches your tip and lets it rest on the pink muscle, his eyes blown wide and crossed slightly as he looks up at you. Your hand brushing through his hair, tangling in the strands and scratching his scalp, his eyes close as he moans. "Wait, Mn?! I recognize that tattoo, what the actual fuck?!"

"You cheated on us first..." Chan closes his mouth and starts bobbing his head, slurping and sucking, completely focused on your cock that he's become drunk on. "So don't go yelling at us." "This isn't fair." "What i-isn't fair is y-you cheating on me s-six months after we got together...a-and ch-cheating on Chan with me after that..." You get out through stuttery breaths as Chan's mouth felt so fucking good.

"W-We also know you were hiding us from each other. Doordash and G-Grubhub, really?" Chan gags on your length and gasps as he pulls back, jerking you off quickly as he rests your tip on his tongue again. "Fuck, Baby, go faster...gonna cum, baby, I'm so close." With your words, a moan, and a quick "Oh fuck!" You cum on his tongue as he keeps stroking you, humming at your release shooting into his mouth and when you finish, panting heavily, he licks your tip with the tip of his tongue before pulling back and shows his tongue mainly to you but Shawn was still yelling at the both of you.

He closes his mouth, swallowing your cum then sticking his tongue out to show you it's gone. You push yourself up, flipping the camera around before kissing Chan messily, tongues tangling together and you taste yourself on his tongue.

"We're done Shawn." You lean away from Chan and look at the phone, the younger male moving to leave marks on your neck as well. "Fuck both of you. This isn't fair." He hangs up and you laugh, tossing the phone away gently.

"Isn't fair, is he for real?" You think aloud before Chan is turning your head and kissing you again, moaning into your mouth as he moves back onto your lap and your hands hold his hips. "Hyung, please fuck me, I need you so bad." "Here or your room?" "Fuck me right here, please." "You can beg better, can't you?" "Hyung, please stuff me full. I-I need your cock, need it so bad, please Hyung, please." His his rut into yours, grinding his clothed erection onto yours, moaning freely.

"Baby so needy for his cunt to be full, huh? Only needy for me, right? You'll be mine from now on, right? Always want my cock stuffing you, keeping you full?" "Fuck, Hyung, please~" His moan morphs into a whine as his hips move faster.

You lay him down, sliding off your pants and boxers before pulling of Chan's sweats, finding him wearing only the sweats as his cock slips from the sweats and lays on his stomach, hard and leaking. "Commando, huh?" "I-I always was when I met up with him...now only for you." "Shit, you're so fucking cute." You toss his sweats next to your jeans before taking off your shirt.

"So hot..." His hands find your body as you hover over him and lick into his mouth. Your hand slips under his hoodie, hands smoothing over his skin and pushing up his hoodie. "W-Wait, I want to k-keep this on." "Okay." Your hand squeezes his peck before you move your fingers to pinch his nipple. "Ah~ Shi- S-Sensitive." He moans, arching his back and throwing his head back.

"I'm not removing it, just lifting it up." You say as you push the hoodie out of the way before leaning down and biting his tit. His hands, now covered by the sleeves of the hoodie, find your hair, gripping it when you move to bite and suck his nipple. His moans were music to your ears as you let go of his nipple and kiss up to his neck, biting and sucking under his ear.

"Hyung, please." He takes your cock into his hand, stroking you lazily. "I need to prep you though." "No, please." "Have you bottomed before?" He nods. "Please, I-I want...I need it, Please. I want the stretch...please, Hyung." He begs and you kiss him, your cock still covered in spit as you prop yourself up next to his hip, his legs folding next to your waist and spreading wider.

"Fuck." He wanted to watch but you are way bigger than he anticipated as you pushed yourself in, moving your hand to the side of his other hip. "Hngh~ Ah fuck~" His voice became higher, whinier as he lets out choked moans. "S'good, S'big. Hyungie s'big, ah~" He whines softly as he brings his hands up, clad with sweater paws as he hides his face.

"Yeah? Baby feel good? I haven't started fucking you and you're cock drunk. Has it been that long since you've been fucked?" "Y-Yes." "Then I will give you all I have." "Please, Hyung." "Don't worry, baby, I will."

You push yourself up, sitting back with your hands on his knees, holding him open. "Fuuuck Channie Baby...." Your left hand slides down his thighs and splayed itself on his toned stomach. "You look so fucking good. Such a good looking body, how did I not find you sooner?" Leaning back more only slightly, you gather quite a bit of saliva and let it fall off your tongue, landing on his hole and your length before you push in more.

Your right hand joins your left before holding his waist tightly and pushing forward at the same time you pull him towards you until you're finally all the way inside him. "Fuck~ S-S'full...S'big, fu-hgnh~" He squirms, body restless as he adjusts and his chest heaving heavily as it felt like the air was punched out of his lungs, his hands wanting to push him up to see but they let him go and his back arches.

You move your hands next to his head, mouth attaching to his and you swallow his moans, licking along his tongue, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. You claimed his mouth feverishly as you pull your hips back, leaning on your arm without pulling away to bring his leg up to his chest and hook it over your shoulder, leaning onto the other arm and bringing his other leg up and pushing it out.

"Hyung! Fuck, Fuck, right th-there!" "Already?" "Y-Yes, Yes, please move. Please fuck me, fuck...fuck me a-as if w-we d-didn't just meet each other, please." "Shit, you're gonna be the death of me now."

You push back in hard and he yelps, back arching the furthest so far as the moan he lets out is practically pornagrahic, you immediately thrust into him quick and hard, hitting his prostate dead on and drawing a moan with every harsh thrust into him.

"Fuck, you're so tight, Baby. So warm, so good. Such a good boy, practically letting a stranger fuck you." As he looks at you, his mouth is wide open, moans falling past his lips, and his eyes are blown wide and glassy with want, need, and lust. "M-Mn, F-Fu-uck, Hyung-" He gasps at the harsh thrust, your tip punching into his prostate. "I-I..." He whines, closing his eyes and looking away, covering his face with his right hand.

"You what, baby?" "I-I...I-I can't s-say it...just met you..." "We're w-well past that, Baby, just say it." "Fuck, I'm sorry...I-I l-love you, Hyung...I'm sorry." Leaning down, you give him a kiss, biting his bottom lip before letting it go and returning to hover over him. "It's okay, Baby. It's okay. I love you, too. Gonna take you out after this, screw Shawn, your mine n-now. G-Gonna treat you s-so well, g-gonna spoil my baby."

"Hyung, Fuck!" He arches into your chest, head thrown back. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, faster, faster, AH FUCK!" Your hand wraps around his length, helping him closer to his high before he's cumming hard, shooting up to where his hoodie is bunched up on his chest and he squeezes hard around your length.

He whines in overstimulation as you keep thrusting into him. "Just a little longer, s'close, gonna fill you up, fuck it deep into your cunt." He clenches around you, making you moan softly at the feeling. "You like that? Wanna be bred? Want my cum deep inside you, have my babies?" He moans as his dick twitches slightly. "Fuck, gonna cum, fill you full, Shit~" You cum with a moan, groaning a moment later as you thrust into him deeply, barely moving your hips as he moans at the feeling of your warm seed fills him up.

"Don't...Don't pull out..." You chuckle tiredly, collapsing onto him with your face in his neck. "U-Unless you c-can carry me t-to m-my room, we're laying here." You gently let his legs go, moving your own legs in order to sit up and take him with you. He yelps in shock as your dick shifts but still stays inside him.

"Think you can lean back and grab your pants?" "No, I sleep naked." "Okay then." You grab his thighs and stand up, he wraps his arms around your neck, burying his face in the side of your neck and leaving small kisses before he nuzzles his nose into your neck, cuddling into your arms.

"Do you have a plug?" "I'm hugging it." He mutters and you physically have to stop and laugh. "That's not...Really?" He giggles as you enter his room, closing the door behind you then moving to sit on his bed. "No, hold on." He detaches himself from you and leans to his right slightly to the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a plug.

"Want me to put it in?" "Obviously." You take the object from him and he places his hand on your shoulder as yours move to his ass, squeezing the soft skin and spread him before lifting him up, you slip out of him with a slight squelch noise then replace yourself with the toy. "Fuck..." "You okay?" He whines, shifting on your lap as your hands stay on his ass. "S'empty..." You chuckle, kissing his temple. "I'll get you a bigger toy so you'll always be full."

He pulls back, meeting your eyes. "Really? Y-You don't h-have to, I-I was just saying that stuff to...get off." "Were you really? I was serious, going to take you out tomorrow and spoil the hell out of you. Sounded like you were serious too, remember? Can't let a good guy and dick like me go." "I-I did...Shit..."

"Do you want to be something with me?" "I do. You're so much better than everyone else." "Then from now on you're my baby, my sweet baby boy, okay?" He nods shyly, leaning forward to hide his blushing face in your neck. "I'm your baby boy, Hyung. I..." He hesitates and you kiss his shoulder. "I love you, baby." He whines, tightening his hold around your neck. "Mmm...I love you too, Hyung."

Taking him with you, you lay down under his covers before covering you both up, he snuggles under his blankets and closer to you, wrapping his arms around your middle as he tucks himself under your chin, nose nuzzling at your neck and taking in your scent as your arms wrap around his shoulders and hug him close.

"Good night, Channie Baby."

"Good night, Mn-Hyung."

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: attempted baby trapping, detailed writing about burns and scars.

Mother says she was the first witness to your very first steps. 

Surrounded by four newly renovated nursery walls—painted her favorite pink and adorned with decorations Dad hung for a pop of color. Stuffed animals everywhere, even a 43-inch-tall dollhouse waiting to be discovered.

But, of all the toys, that chubby baby girl determinedly balanced herself on her awkward legs. Mother said you smiled widely, showing a toothless grin and extending your tiny hands forward. Eyes wide open when you almost fell, yet the stubborn baby refused to give up until you reached your mother's arms.

Maybe you simply saw something you wanted. Your mother.

How odd. The thought that you ever wanted your mother is an absurd notion. Because as Simon's car sped off, leaving the manor behind you, all you felt was a sense of relief that you had once again escaped her.

Maybe you wanted your mother only when she wanted you too. Lately—for the past few years after you were ten—she acted like she hated you, and children are truly just mirrors of their parents, incapable of hating before being hated first.

Or maybe—so many maybes when it comes to her—Mother didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t intend to instill this distorted image of yourself with every drop of poison she poured on you. Maybe she simply lacked the knowledge and skills to be a mother, lacking a positive role model from the start.

But intentions mean nothing compared to the outcome, the fed-up rational voice asserts. It doesn't matter if she didn't mean it, because in the end she hurt you. The difference between love and hate becomes this fine line that eventually fades and mixes the two together.

It doesn't matter if she didn't mean it this way at first, because the first time turned into the second time, then the third and suddenly now it's the thousandth time. She breeds her pattern and uses it to make you suffocate. And when you try to break free, she looks at you like a disobedient child full of rebellion.

The sickening optimists will tell you to look on the bright side—that it shaped you, made you the woman you are today. But back then, you were a child—you would have grown up inevitably, so going through all that was just an unjust burden.

(All adults do is cause pain, the little girl said.)

Some crackling radio tune played softly as Simon drove in silence through the dark, winding country roads. No questions came���which you were thankful for; you weren’t ready to unpack all that long history just yet. His brown eyes were locked in focus as he steered the car around the turns as if he’d been through this before.

The car slowed and rolled to a stop outside a sprawling two-story building. A pub—from the weathered sign carved on its old stone. Different from the ones in London, of course, this one's cozier and more inviting. Gazing out the rain-spattered window, you squint and see another sign above the door: “The Fox and Hounds Inn.” So they also offer rooms, it seemed.

Simon turned off the engine and twisted in his seat. Reaching behind, he snatched up the suit jacket he had thrown back there earlier. Turning to you, he held it out, signaling you to take it.

“Cover yer ‘ead.” He nods towards the pouring rain outside.

You took it, breathing in Simon’s scent—a hint of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke—as you draped it over your head as a hood. The sound of the door being opened roughly is heard. Simon has rushed out into the downpour and retrieved your bags from the trunk. Slipping from the car, you hurry to take shelter under the pub’s roof, waiting for Simon before going through the door.

The inside of the pub was surrounded by warm hues. Old wooden shelves stood displaying a variety of bottles of spirits, with low lights casting a dim glow. Worn leather booths were occupied by a few locals who had settled in with their pints, while two others shot pool in the back corner. Behind the bar, the bartender paused from wiping glasses; a questioning look flashed across his face before smoothing it once more.

He set his glass down and asked, "What can I get ya?”

“Bourbon. Kentucky, if y’ve got it.” Simon said.

The bartender cocked his head, checking his stock. “Aye, we’ve a bottle or two left.” Turning back to him, he asked again, “Anyth’ else?”

Simon turned to you. “You want anything?”

“I'm alright, thanks.” You answered in a husky voice.

“Just the bourbon then, and a room for the night.”

At that, the bartender just nodded, reaching beneath the bar to produce an iron key, its number as a keychain. “Room six, up the stairs and to your left. Let me know if you’ll be wantin’ breakfast in the morn.” He explained with efficiency, all business, saving more time from nonsense.

The heavy wooden stairs creaked underfoot as you climbed to the room. Reaching the door carved with the number six, Simon twisted the key and pushed the door open. He set the bags on the old table by the window, leaving your suitcase beside it.

Glancing around, you took in the faded floral wallpaper, lumpy bed, and worn armchair—not fancy, but it would do for a night’s rest. You wandered around the room, stopping when you passed a mirror—your own reflection with mascara tracks smeared across your cheeks, lipstick smudging past your lip line.

“Did I just walk around like this all afternoon?” You wiped away the dark trails, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere for exactly the reason why. That or it was just you and your guilt for dragging Simon into this unplanned mess.

The effort fell flat, much like your numb heart. Simon was still wound tight as a spring, with the venomous words of that woman replaying in his mind. However, your own perspective perceived his distant attitude as anger. Mother would often give you two days of silent treatment whenever she was upset, so you presumed it was the same case with Simon.

You nearly jumped from his grunt. Out of the corner of your eye, Simon took out his cigarette and lit it, always paying no attention to where he was smoking. Taking a deep drag, he let the smoke curl slowly as he exhaled towards the ceiling.

The bathroom door creaked open at his touch; Simon gave it a sweep of his eyes to access the condition of it—nothing but the basics; thankfully, the shower worked. He turned then, coming over to where you were sitting on the lumpy mattress.

“Shower,” he rumbled, jerking his head towards the bath. “Get that rainwater off ya.”

(You’re angry, aren’t you?)

The conclusion was drawn after his tone sounded colder than normal—his words were curt, as if he didn't wish to waste breath on you. While a part of you argued this was just the way he spoke all the time, another louder voice suggested there was more going on. His brown eyes held a deeper stirring, a visible frown etched into his features. Simon would likely extend the silence if not for the concern that you would trouble him more if you fell ill.

It hurls you into this desperate need to win him over, despite being uncertain if there's an actual competition to be won. You struggle to contain the age-old, desperate question, but you are known to be a failure at everything.

"Are... are you angry with me?” The question leaves you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

At that, Simon's blonde eyebrows furrowed. "What?" he asked, sharp. Like he's offended.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you struggled to lift your gaze, meeting his stare. “I just… are you angry with me?”

A scoff, then—

“No.” Simon replied curtly. “Why the bloody ‘ell would I be angry with you?” he added, then chastised himself when the words came out harsher than intended.

But the prejudice had seeped into your pores, causing your shoulders to tense and your head to hang low. You hated this—hated feeling like an over-sensitive child, upset over nothing, easily hurt by everything. Lifting your head, you tried to blink away the pricking tears pooling in your eyes.

Simon lets out a hushed sigh before squeezing out his cigarette and sitting down next to you, the bed creaking under the new weight. Outside, the leaves rustle in the cold night breeze. Within these four walls, you both sit side by side in silence.

“I ain't... that is... I’m not angry. Not with you, at least.” He tries to sort out his words. Something kinder but ends awkwardly—nonetheless, acceptable.

A few tears escaped and rolled hot down your cheeks before the blurry world came back into focus. You raised your eyes to his.

“I'm sorry,” you say, almost a whisper. “I'm such a crybaby, I know.”

“None o’ that now,” Simon soothed you, timbre as soft as talcum powder. “Ain't got nothin' to apologize for.”

As he said that, he used his thumb to catch your tears, wiping them away gently, almost as if he didn't want another to stain your cheeks. And under his touch, you became still, like obedient clay waiting to be molded by him. You existed solely for him, willingly presenting your skin as a canvas in case he wanted to brand his name on you. Make me yours, your cheap little heart begged; make me yours until I forget who I am.

(Grant me an identity that isn't me.)

I will shed the pieces of myself now like outgrown armor. The nights are prone to the past—never quiet—and I don't like that.

(Give birth to a new me. Someone who isn't what remains left of that little girl.)

The universe explodes another big bang, and your new world is created as you settle on his lap. So sudden you don't even remember crawling towards him. But as your lips crash into his, devouring his moist flesh with your own in an effort to mold it into one, it no longer matters how. Your teeth clamp down on his lower lip, drawing out a grunt as you bite down lightly and feel the taste of his iron against your tongue. Blood-eater woman.

Your hands cup his jaw, tracing the strong, defined bones beneath the blanket of skin. Then, you drag them down to his thundering neck, following the faint pillars, the curve of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of scar tissue from over-healed wounds.

Simon gasps into your mouth as your hips grind against his, stoking his lust even higher and swelling his cock. He grips your sides, guiding your movements as you seek balance with your grip on his broad shoulders. You moan, pressing your upper body against his face, and he inhales all your scent like he's been deprived of oxygen for ages.

Your desire drips so easily onto your tongue.

Practiced in the efficiency you learned from him, your fingers unbutton his shirt one by one, watching more and more of his skin exposed to you as you unwrap the white fabric off his body.

Simon trailed his tongue down the satin of your dress, tasting it against his gustatory system like a mindless dog. He closes his lips around your erect nipple. Blindly, his digits reached for the laces on your back, tugging it with one unsuccessful pull and two successful ones. The dress undone, your chest completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Simon wasted no time in latching his mouth onto your breasts.

“Ah-! Simon, Simon… slow down.”

You attempted to accommodate his face in your small hands, urging him to meet your gaze. When did you grow accustomed to searching—to decipher the meaning behind his every look, searching for a reflection of your own feelings in his eyes? Hoping to find evidence that he wanted you just as deeply as you yearned for him.

From the moment we first met, Simon had been a confounding puzzle, a conundrum without any clues or leads. An enigma, the deep forest at dusk. He revealed so little, yet, that very scarcity only piqued your curiosity further—inviting the solver girl within you to unravel each layer, to explore every wrinkle in the intricate tapestry that was him.

“I… I want to lead. If that’s all right.” You whispered, looking for disagreement in his gaze.

None, just a gentle squeeze on your hip. He nodded, then, “Alright, love.”

At that, your eyes sparkled, you gave him a smile in return. Biting your lip, you pondered your next move. “Lay down for me.”

Without hesitation, he did as you asked, settling back against the pillows. The roughness of his form was a stark contrast to the linen, muscles rippling beneath inked skin. Eyes as dark as oak never left yours, silently urging you to continue.

Nerves danced inside you, but you chuckled, “I was gonna take this dress off all sexy-like; maybe spin around slow. But you ruined that plan.”

“Should’ve been more patient then, eh?” He said, wetting his lips then.

You sighed, half-shrugging. “Well, I don’t know what sexy moves I can do now.”

“Don’t matter none. You’re always a sight for sore eyes.”

The boldness of his words causes you to throw your head back in laughter. “Are you saying all this just to get laid quicker?"

Simon lets out a raspy chuckle. “Nah,” he watches his own hand travel up your thigh, giving it a squeeze and rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Looking back up at you, you feel your heart skip a beat. “I’m sayin’ it cause it’s the truth. You are the most fuckin’ gorgeous creature I ever did lay eyes on.”

The plum of your lips is pulled into a shy smile. You replay his words in your mind like a wrinkled tape, your soul made to sparkle and float on clouds. He called me gorgeous, you thought.

Simon called you gorgeous—despite everything your mother led you to believe. Despite her words that left you feeling like an hideous being, a flawed and misshapen creature crafted by the hands of an unforgiving God. But he said I was gorgeous, Mother. Most fucking gorgeous.

"Well, you're rather handsome yourself." In truth, this is all amusing—this sudden exchange of compliments between the two of you, with you still sitting right on top of his groin, in your loose dress and Simon shirtless.

But, like an opportunist, you place your finger on the sloping hill of his chest. You feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing—the stuttering of air in his lungs as you make circular motions on his bare skin. “Too bad that you always hide it under a mask.”

The diaphragm beneath his thick skin contracted faintly as he chuckled. Taking your index finger, Simon then held it between his teeth. He sucked the tip slowly and watched you through hooded eyes.

“The mask’s for another reason, darlin’,” he rumbled once he released it.

There it is again. The invisible veil now made visible, taunting you with the reminder that there's always a part of him that remains unknown, no matter how deep you try to dig or how many layers you think you’ve shed. Lately, you'd pushed the limits further than necessary, testing unseen boundaries—just how far were you willing to go, or how far would he allow before growing weary of it?

“And why is that, your mask?”

He gave your thigh another squeeze, his fingers drumming a random rhythm as he considered his response. “That’s a story for another day.” He replied.

It sounded like a promise, felt like an oath. Apparently, your heart found solace in that—in the future and the exact day that story would arrive. You smiled down at him, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, then I suppose that’s a promise, Mr. Simon…”

“Riley,” he fills in the blank space behind. “Simon Riley.”

The heart in the confines of your rib cage throbs with thrill. You smile brightly, testing the full name on your tongue. “Simon Riley…”

After a pause, your hands returned to their task, drifting down his firm torso until they reached his jeans. You made quick work of the buttons, pulling them down and tossing them carelessly to the floor, leaving him in only his gray boxers. Trying to match, you let your gown pool on the floor, leaving you in your black lacy panties.

Here you are, both bare chested, one cloth away from being completely naked. Two imperfect mirror reflections, similar yet distinct in their differences.

You glance back at him, biting your lip to hold back a giggle. His grin greets you in return, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth as his eyes roam approvingly over your form. You stand still, waiting, observing his growing impatience until he finally lets out a raspy chuckle, beckoning you closer with a casual crook of his finger.

“Come ‘ere.”

At his call, you obey like a good obedient girl dedicating her whole life to him.

Crawling onto the bed, your breasts hanging freely with each step your knees take. You stop right above his face, gazing into his warm chocolate with your cheeks blooming red.

Leaning in, you flicked your tongue out to taste the seam of his lips, drawing a soft groan from deep in his chest. Your back stretched to its maximum, arching like a harp as you became greedier and greedier and claimed his mouth completely. Your fond tongue traced his teeth, stroking the velvety softness of his inner cheeks, the contours of his palate. The pricking sensation of his stubble against your chin intertwined with the sweet wetness of your mingled saliva.

Your breasts pressed against his broad chest, the fat melting like popsicles in the hot sun. Swinging one leg across, you sit on top of him with your thighs straddling his hips, feeling the thick mound beneath his boxers from his hardening cock against your soaked panties.

As you began to grind on top of him, Simon grunted into your mouth. He slid his big hands down to squeeze your ass, kneading the soft cheeks as he thrust up to meet your clothed cunt. You moaned at the sensation, breaking the kiss but not tearing your gaze away as you straightened your spine to rock your hips back and forth.

Look at that pair of dark eyes—so devoted in their witnessing of every sway of your tits, with the gaping mouth of a hungry man. He lies beneath you, broad shoulders and thick arms corded with muscle built from the hard days of the military. Blonde hair around his chest, trailing down to his stomach and hidden beneath the tempting waistband of his boxers.

And those scars, of course. Especially that goddamn mysterious scar near his ribs. Were they created by 'bad men' or did you deserve it for the bad deeds you had committed, Simon?

Taking one of his hands, you place it on one of your breasts. Simon closes his hand around it, his thumb and index finger curling into a twist at your nipple. You let out a moan, biting your lower lip in a poor effort to keep another one from escaping you.

"Simon,” you breathed, his length twitching against your cunt.

Rolling your hips, your clothed clit rubbed against his hardness. You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly through parted lips, feeling the friction. He placed his hands on your sides, guiding your movements into a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, look at ya, darlin’…”

Bathed in the dim lighting of this inn, you were a sight he wanted to capture. Sitting on top of him like a long-gone queen reclaiming her place—the very reason for his convulsing cock, the numbing of his brain, his ears tuning out the noise of his old brain. As you continued to roll your hips, he watched every detail and seared it all in the back of his head.

The way sweat slicks and rests on the dip of your collarbone. Kiss-swollen sweet lips, tempting for him to bite or wrap around his throbbing length. Heavy eyelids and dark traces of your mascara.

Fuck, look at those puffy eyes.

Simon had endured his fair share of cuts and gunshot wounds. But nothing prepared him for the invisible grip on his heart when he realized what your cries left behind—puffy and red-rimmed like bruised berries. Fuckin’ hell…

Wanting more, you slide your lace aside. You restart your pace, gasping in pleasure at the new direct contact, the wetness of your building peak coloring the fabric of his boxer darker. The throbbing inside you begins, growing stronger the more you grind. You almost lose your pace—Simon’s large hands grip your hips to guide your movements toward climax.

The tight coil within you twists tighter. You breathe in short, ragged gasps; eyes squeezed shut as white flashes explode behind your lids. The cresting wave rises to a peak, making your thighs tremble.

When it hits, you throw your head back with a cry, Simon supporting your arched back with a strong palm behind you. The heat in your lower belly flushes as your release drips down to his boxers.

You slumped limp against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around you, waiting for you to catch your breath while he inhaled his own. Christ, your scent is intoxicating—that sweet soap you were devoted to, the perfume he often saw on your dresser, and something natural about you that made his cock throb, begging to be released from the boxers beneath you. It took every ounce of willpower for him not to flip you over and take his fill.

A gentle giggle bubbled up. Simon furrowed his brows, meeting your eyes as you lifted your chin with a lazy smile.

“That was… weird,” you said, confusion written all over your face.

“What’s weird?”

“Well, for starters…” you glanced down between you, tracing a finger along the damp patch staining his boxers and chuckling again when he hissed. “I ruined these.”

Simon chuckled, shifting his hips. “Don’t matter none though, does it? You’re gonna ‘ave them off me soon enough anyway.”

You laugh – the warm, carefree sound from deep within your chest. Cheeks flushed rosy, and you’re sure your eyes sparkled. “Okay, okay. That’s something I might do.”

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against his in almost a chaste kiss. Simon couldn't resist, prolonging it by deepening it gently. He hooked his fingers around the lace loops on your hips, giving a playful tug as your mouths moved slow and sweet.

Breaking away, he narrows his eyes at your black panties. “You can still do them sexy moves takin’ this off, y’know…”

At his words, your smile stretches from ear to ear. Muttering an “okay,” you slip off him and the bed, standing in front of him. He fixes his dark eyes on you, melting the sudden shyness and encouraging you to continue the show. Slowly, teasingly, you begin to peel down your lace, small laughs escaping your throat.

“Well?” you ask, cheeks now rosy as you pose for his eyes. “How’s this?”

“Fucking perfect, darlin’,”

You toss aside your last garment, showing off your fully naked form like some kind of high fashion model. “Your turn now,” you say, walking toward him.

Reaching for the waist of his boxers, you began easing them down as well, eager to harvest the fruits of your ministry for each other. But, as it slid off his ankle, your eyes landed on his skin, and your smile faded, realizing something you hadn't before.

Knotted, mottled skin stretched from his right hip and down the side of his shin. The scars were old, but the memory of the fire that had once caressed him was immortalized in their rugged, rough texture. You tried to avert your already teary eyes from it, but instead found more scars around his legs—some nearly identical to the ones scattered across his upper body, some others resembled surgical scars long healed.

A lump rises in your throat, but you try to smile and crawl back into his lap, trying to lose yourself in whatever follows. But the façade crumbles, and you find yourself frozen, staring at him while fighting back tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” And yet, Simon opens the door for you to broach the subject. Must’ve been something about your expression.

You briefly considered playing dumb, but your chance evaporated when a treacherous tear slipped freely. Hastily wiping it away, you took a shaky breath, focusing your gaze on the ceiling to prevent another from falling. You stared into his eyes again, and Simon saw the composure you had so carefully maintained on the edge of crumbling again.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.”

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

Here you are, bodies pressed together—chest to chest, skin to skin. You let out a gasp as he grips your ass cheeks, spreading them until the chilly air touches your soaked folds. Simon would rather have those pretty eyes rolled back in pleasure than cry; he would rather have those plump lips parted to moan erotic sounds than sob. He bucks his hips and brushes the fat tip of his cock against your entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Simon gives a slow thrust upwards, grunting as he feels your warm labia. You straighten your back to sit on his pelvis, doing your own set of hip rolls as his hands guide you.

“No more tears f’me, ye ‘ear?” He meets your eyes before lowering it to the tantalizing view of your glistening body, causing another twitch of his impatient cock. “I ain’t worth it.”

The tip of his cock brushes against your folds when he thrusts his hips once more. A small mewl escapes your moist lips, vertebrae drawn like a curve of a bow as his length slowly enters your hole.

“No—no, don’t say that. You’re—mmh!” You stumble over your words, voice shaking both from emotion and physical overwhelm. “You’re always worth it, Simon.”

Sweet thing, unaware of the effect her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheek have on a man as corrupt as him. Struggling to find words while he fills her up, trying to convince him that he's worth something.

“That so?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Yes,”

“Yeah?”

Without waiting for a reply, he grips your hips and slams you against him in one swift thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut on a gasp as he sank home. He groans at the blissful feeling, the remnants of your last orgasm completely coating him. But he has never been a man of gratitude; the gaping hole near his ribs—right where the scar he has shown you and told you about—seems to consume every fulfillment he might have, leaving him perpetually feeling unsatisfied and not enough.

Right now, he felt utterly insufficient. His old soul was always left wanting for more. That stupid, almost pathetic desire for proof that he would never truly believe—

“Prove it then, love.”

And well, he is a selfish man after all.

Slowly, you begin to move, hips rocking sensually against him, stretching your cunt to take his cock. It’s sloppy at first, until you settle into a rhythm and set your pace. He takes in every beautiful detail of you – your kiss-swollen lips beneath the faint bite of your teeth, your skin shimmering with sweat, your bouncing tits as you ride him, and the way your walls tighten their embrace around his cock with each in and out.

“Tha’s it love, ride me.”

Your cunt fluttered at the encouragement. He traced your curves before stopping at your breasts, twisting and pulling your nipples, eliciting a whimper from your throat. Rolling your hips, you grind your clit against his pelvis. He gives a low grunt.

“A-ah, Simon-!”

Listen to that, his name rolling off your tongue like liquid sin, a constant he never gets tired of. The room temperature rises, an invisible fire burning in his groin as you bounce on his cock. Your fingers dig half-moons on his naked thighs.

The room seemed to burn, almost like reminiscent of the flames that once scorched his lower right side. But this time, the sensation that swept through him was one of pure euphoria. The suffering that had gripped him was erased, replaced by a fierce hunger to shed more than just your clothes. The overwhelming need to be swallowed whole, to reside between your viscera and become the first to be embraced there.

Like a fish out of a tank, your lips formed a perfect 'O'—an invitation he accepted as he slipped his rough fingers into your mouth and tucked them beneath the blanket of your tongue. The brush of warm flesh made his cock throb, drawing a muffled sound from you.

Simon put his free hand to continue steering your hips, maintaining their steady rhythm as they started to falter. The angry crown of his cock pulled out before slamming back in and disappearing between your plump labia. He let his ears feast on your cry, watching your eyes squeeze shut as he reached that sweet spot inside. Saliva dripped, running down the curve of your chin and down between your swaying breasts.

The ah-ah! sound becomes the only thing you can produce after he liquifies your brain into a tangled mess, trapping your tongue under the weight of his calloused fingers.

Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his length, your climax peeking and cresting, forming high waves. Simon growled through clenched teeth. Your back arched, head falling back as you surrendered to your second peak.

His grip on your hips tightened as a warning. “Off, love—fuck, ye gotta get off, now.”

You did not heed him, continuing to bounce on his twitching cock. He groaned, trying to hold back the inevitable tide of his release.

“Love,” he tries again before calling your name, his own hips stuttering.

“No, please- I’m—I’m on the pill,” you gasped—

And the lie slipped through your lips without thinking.

Even as a part of you knew this was wrong—that you were trying to trap him and you were being reckless—you kept going. Simon stopped trying to get you off him, letting you slam your hips one last time before he emptied thick ropes of seed into your womb.

Sex and your indifference to potential consequences permeated the air, screaming for your attention. A voice curses you in the back of your mind, full of snarls that you have gone too far; that you have hated Mother too much to dismiss everything she says—even the true ones—as nonsense. That you will only live to regret this.

But you have to—it's a necessity, driven by the roots that tell you to cement this bond between you. Sure, it may be born out of a desperate fantasy of your own insecurities, but you need this.

“Nothing can make them stay, my dear. Not for love, not for sex, for all your years of devotion to them, not even for their own flesh and blood!” Your mother is screaming in your head.

(Nonsense. Nonsense, all of it.)

You watch his chest rise and fall; somewhere deep within the confines of his strong ribs is a heart that beats in almost the same rhythm as yours. The dim lighting of the room you only acknowledge when it reflects faintly on the slick of his scar-littered skin. Those brown eyes stare at you beneath a canopy of blond lashes, moist lips pulled into a slight smile under his strong nose—and you return it with a wider one.

Would a child make you stay, Simon?

“Fucking ‘ell, love…” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath.

Unable to resist, you grind against his still-sensitive cock, earning a hiss and a hand on your hip to still you, making you chuckle.

“Don’t do that.” He mutters low and rough.

You nod, another giggle. Leaning forward, you press a quick kiss to his lips. “Okay, okay,” you say. “I’ll be good.”

Settling your head on his chest, Simon then pulls the blanket up before draping it over your naked bodies. You sigh in relief as he wraps his arms tightly around your smaller frame. Pulling you close, he buries his nose in your hair, breathing in your scent.

You trace idle patterns on his skin, murmuring: “My big performance is in a month. I got a special pass for you, so you better not even think about missing it.”

“The swan play?”

“Yeah,” you answered, lifting your head to gaze up at him. "Promise you'll be there?"

Promises are risky business, especially for someone like him. He's well-versed in the knowledge that when someone makes a promise, it means they're up for something that always comes along to fuck it up.

Even so, the words came out before he could stop them. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

Hearing that, your smile threatened to widen, and you plopped your head back flat against his chest before he saw it. Wanting something to focus on, you settled your gaze on the old window at the end of the room. It was still raining outside, but it had softened. The pitter-patter of raindrops sounded more like a gentle, faint tap, reminding you of the squeaking of the bed when you were still making love earlier.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace. Then, there was a sudden urge to open up to him, created from a feeling of indebtedness to him. After all, he had been the one to step in earlier. There's still a lot Simon doesn't know about you, about Mother.

But just as you were about to part your lips, his arms tightened around you. The warmth of his touch made the courage to speak seep away, replaced by a crippling fear of ruining the moment. In the end, you clamped your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes closed as you forced yourself to let things be how they should be—unsaid.

The ghost of your mother's voice echoes in the back of your mind again. As you adjust your position, feeling the unfamiliar wetness on your thighs, you reassure yourself that this time is different; he is different. He’s going to stay. You feel his fingers gently carding through your hair, magically burning away any lingering doubts in the corners of your soul.

After everything, he has to.

The morning sun streams through the thin leaves as you and Simon get out of the car to stop for breakfast at the quaint little restaurant you came across. The chilly air still lingers, urging you to pull your cardigan tighter around you as you wait for the food to be served.

Taking in your surroundings, you notice the worn wooden floors, the mismatched chairs and tables. An old-fashioned cash register and shelves that hang various kinds of souvenirs typical of this small town and character key chains.

When the waiter—who also seemed to be the owner—placed two plates down, Simon ate without hesitation. You reached for your fork, but your eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall. Time was ticking fast—the sand in the hourglass slipping through your fingers with each second. You could almost feel the ground beneath you shifting, the earth seeming to swallow you alive.

Breakfast is over. Simon paid the bill and slipped out first for a smoke while you waited for the change. The owner disappeared into the back, leaving you standing there alone. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, the only sound filling the silence.

Casting your gaze around, you search for a distraction, something to stare at. Your eyes eventually land on the souvenir rack. And there, among the keychains and trinkets, a skeleton charm catches your eye, black and white reminding you of the one Simon hangs in his car.

The sound of the door opening jolts you back to reality. The owner returns with a handful of bills in his outstretched hand. Instead of taking it, you point to the skeleton charm, waiting for the old man to follow your fingertip before asking, “How much for that one?”

As the other door opens with the soft chimes of a bell overhead, you walk towards Simon with a barely suppressed smile. He smells of tobacco like he always does after a smoke. But, you hardly mind; all you care about is the delicate skeleton charm you hold in front of him.

“Look what I got you!” you exclaim, your smile bursting from your lips.

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed, dark eyes studying the little bone-white friend. You wait and wait for him to say something; your legs feel jittery as the small figure swings dangling between your thumb and forefinger.

“It’s..interestin’,” he says, finally taking it from you, studying it closer. “Where'd you get it?”

“The owner had it on the shelf over there,” you say, nodding towards the display. “I.. well, I saw it and thought of you. I hope you like it.”

You watched as crow's feet formed at the corners of his eyes, his mouth twitching into a smile beneath his mask. Then, Simon let out a sound—a chuckle, a genuine one which then turned into a short laugh that spread sensations in your chest.

“Thanks,” Simon said to the owner, who was standing behind the cashier with his own grin.

Then, he turns to you, his arms reaching out to wrap around your shoulders. “An’ thanks to you, too,” he says, almost a whisper, meant for just the two of you. “It’s… perfect.”

Without another word, he pulls you close, tucking your head under his chin as you make your way out of the restaurant. The birds chirping, celebrating a sunny day in the countryside. But this warmth… it’s not from the sun, not from the kinder wind. He opens his car door as he always does, and you slide inside, still with the gentle rumble of his chuckle ringing in your head.

You hoped this would never end.

You hoped—

The short trip to the English countryside was almost over; you had to go back to practice and rehearsals on Monday, and Simon had his agenda of disappearing to God knows where else. You didn’t question it; you didn’t ask anymore. You were comfortable enough with the many question marks that always seemed to surround him. He always came back in the end—that's what matters.

As you neared London, Simon pulled into a petrol station to refuel. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The door closed, and you were left alone with your gray thoughts.

You watched Simon standing outside the car, focused on refueling the tank. Fumbling for your phone, you saw the time – well past midnight. After this, he would definitely drive you home, then disappear for weeks, leaving you to wait. He always came back in the end – that’s what matters, you kept telling yourself.

(But a man who always comes back is a man who always leaves.)

Your eyes drifted to your purse at your feet, where the other phone—the newer one, the one you bought on impulse—lay hidden. Biting your lip, you snatched it up, unlocking it and quickly checking the “Find My” app, making sure the two devices were connected.

Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself, internal debate building but you know which side you’re leaning. This is wrong, probably will do more harm than good to Simon, to yourself—but, you have to, you need this. The same old justification ringing like the old ringtone you’ve memorized by heart. You reach down and carefully drop the spare phone onto the car floor, kicking it to hide it under the seat. Out of sight, out of mind – for now, at least.

Simon slid back behind the wheel after he was done, groaning as his neck popped tensely. He turned to you, brows furrowed.

“Alright?”

Giving a faux smile, you said: “Just a little tired.”

He didn’t question further, just nodded before turning the ignition and buckled his seatbelt. “Not far now,” he turned the wheel out of the gas station. “Just a bit further an’ we’ll be ‘ome.”

The car sped back down the long road. In the darkness outside, you barely made out the shadowy landscape rushing by outside the window, just your faint reflection staring back at you. Everything seemed almost lifeless, except for the soft strains of the radio playing a late-night playlist.

Home, he said. Simon said it as if “home” were so close and existent.

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