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thefanficmonster · 8 months ago

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Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 8 months ago

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It Had To Be You

Before I get into my big explaining rant, reblogs are very much appreciated! I know this is usually a rant blog but when I spend so long on a drawing I want to have people see it and stare at it like I do LOL

Also for the ALT text, a lot of the details are going to be explained below so if you’d like extra details please read!

So, my designs! I really hate Husk’s design; as in I hate drawing it. It’s too red and tiny for me, Husk is very orange and round to me, he’s like a really chubby cat that you flip over in the bed and smack their belly and kiss em. He also kinda reminds me of Tigerstar from Warriors but like if he was a more morally correct person. Kind of. I removed all of the red from Husk and replaced it with little motifs of orange and brown like in his ears, his eyebrows, wings, and the little patch on his snout. For his wings I tried to base them around a Brown Thrasher because they fit the colour I needed and they’re very defensive birds which is a trait I’d like to see in Husk more. Seeing him protecting others with his wings in Episode 8 was a very cute touch and I want more of that. Oh and the little orange bit on his snout was based on one of my old cats named Whiskey and I thought that was fitting cause yknow. Whiskey. 🥃. Also it’s cute!

Part of Husk’s orange colouration also falls under some inspiration I received from @bluehazardanonymous whom you may see on my blog again. But they sent me a very interesting colour chart and it made my brain go funny

Husk’s design has a lot of orange, yellow, and small hints of red like his undone bowtie and hat band/ace of hearts card. The orange for gluttony is mostly related to alcohol and such, meanwhile the yellow in his eyes, shirt patch, and on the button on his hat are to show greed from things like gambling and possible leftovers from being an overlord. I don’t think you can just go from being all powerful to some random bartender and NOT have some kind of thirst for power right???? That also bleeds into the red parts (haha cause blood red) to keep his design on the warm side and have a little bit of anger in there.

His clothes are also supposed to look a bit sloppy and kinda sad cause I mean. He is. But they are also all relatively formal items of clothing. By the way I’m never drawing this guy shirtless, sorry you need to beg and pay for that/j

Now for Angel. With Angel being pink-ish and how I usually draw the rest of Hell, I try to make Hell more gross looking and greenish/sickly, generally unpleasant, so that Angel is more eye catching and pops out more like a celebrity would. A lot of the cast in my head is more orange/maroon coloured, not a lot of pink or salmon colours. Of course pink is under lust on the colour wheel, but I personally don’t like chalking Angel up to just his job, nor do i really like using “true” pink. I always keep him in this range:

Also that white is not for him it’s for other things, I always make him a cream-ish colour. I like pink with red undertones always, especially for Angel. It shows his job very blatantly if you take a simple glance at him, but if you’re nuts like me and colour pick from these that I use, you’ll see a lot of them are closer to red, rather than the bright pink-ish-purple colour for lust. And also closer to his original more purple design!

I think it goes without saying that Angel has a lot of pent up anger and frustration that he hides with his persona and humour, and I think trying to show some of that in his colours is a lot more interesting than just haha pink gay spider. I dunno.

Also I thought these little cowlick flip thingies on the side were really cute

I was originally going to make the sign in the back purple since that’s usually the colour of most XXX signs in Hazbin, but the yellow makes everything else look a lot more dingy and gross while still being bright and I love that. Also the yellow is kind of a shallow jab of my own at the adult entertainment industry, a lot of this stuff is just people being exploited for money but I will go on a tangent about this if I don’t shift topic!! Anyway. A lot of the background isn’t super visible, but based on the colours I was kinda going for a more envy & wrath & greed section of the pride ring. Just seems like a good place to smoke. The rain doesn’t hold much symbolism to it but it is there to make the area seem more unpleasant. Yknow how it rains sometimes and the sewage in the street comes up? Like that.

Im really happy with a bunch of stuff in this art. 10 hours, 184+ layers, and 11751 strokes is probably the most I have ever done for.. anything????? Even if you don’t like the art I hope you appreciate the long rant LOL

Be sure to have a good day and drink something ‼️

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skele-bunny · 3 months ago

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You know... Thinking back to my narcoleptic & fatigued Dewdrop post....

(*note: writing this based off some reddit posts in the r/narcolepsy subreddit with users who have chairs. I am not narcoleptic nor a wheelchair user, and I apologize if there's any misinformation.)

Dew finally getting a wheelchair as his episodes started getting more frequent and not only did it provide safety for him to pass out in his chair, but it also kept him a bit more regulated and able to focus better. He's always had issues trying to keep himself upright and find help as he could never get his legs to work before eventually having an episode. But with his chair he can get his arms to roll forward or just settle him against a wall before the inevitable.

Ohhh he's an asshole once it's recommended. Aether tries convincing. Mountain tries convincing. Zephyr, Mist, Phil, Sunshine—basically anyone that Dew was close to. They couldn't get past that stubborn wall until Aether made him sit and just use it for one day. For him? Pretty please? Dew has always had a hard time saying no to Aether when he pulls out the puppy eyes.

He's still so grumpy about it, moreso the fact he has to ask one of the others to get him things. It's later in the day during practice where he just gets that lightheaded feeling and that repetitive blinking. But when he wakes up, he's not aching. His head slumped to the side, still settled in the chair, feeling Copia rubbing his shoulder and waiting for him to come back.

After that, he's still a bit stubborn but starts entertaining the idea. Aether is so happy when Dew asks him to get his chair. He's SO SO happy Dew is taking his health, safety, and mobility seriously.

The chair itself is a manual, but Dewdrop wanted it to be HIS and represent that!! Got rainbowchrome wheels, and asked Rain to crochet him a bag for the back (which Rain was more than happy to do!). Usually has his medications, extra guitar strings, picks, and a tiny plushie for the ride. Also gloves! Definitely gloves, Zephyr gifts him a pair but he eventually got his own. Still keeps them as backup tho :3

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #rabrevs disabled ghouls #dewdrop ghoul

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lifewithdavefarts · 11 months ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 28 “Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer” [Episode List] Thanks to Dave and his farting skills, a certain ass-kisser learns the hard way that some asses can be quite dangerous.

POV: Dave

Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer

It was late night, around 2:30 AM.

I parked the car in the middle of a big parking lot just out of town, lots of trees and bushes hiding the whole place from the busier streets only a few blocks from us. I admit I felt a bit nervous for a moment, but overall I was quite confident everything’s was gonna go according to plan.

A co-worker from Dana (my girlfriend)’s law firm, a 30-something guy, is being, well, kind of a big asshole and, ironically enough, a big kiss ass too.

Now, I know my girl can fight her own battles, but I kind of had to step in once we found out that this guy was a slicker, selling confidential data to other law firms, basically hijacking every case for money. Also, he’s being a nuisance to Dana and other co-workers, going as far as framing them (including her) for whatever scam (or other bullshit) he was doing.

I’m not a vigilante nor I like the idea of being one, but come on, this guy needs to be taught a lesson. And since he always gets away with everything because he’s an ass-kisser, well… I thought it’d be fun giving him a fitting punishment.

Yes, I’m going there. You know what I’m talking about.

And you know what I’m capable of.

Also, I’m aware this is a very stupid and irresponsible thing to do… so it’s fun, right?

“He should be here any minute now.” I said, hands on the steering wheel.

I was wearing a black face-mask to hide most of my, well, face, the cold dark night hiding the rest of me.

In the last couple of days I’ve been messaging with this wannabe criminal, pretending to be someone interested in buying confidential data. Not rocket science, and this guy wasn’t a criminal mastermind… like he addressed himself as multiple times.

Seriously.

“Really, Dana? This is the guy?” I remember asking her a couple of days ago, with my girlfriend being as confused as me about how much of a kiss ass you need to be to even look like a competent person in front of your boss and co-workers.

“He’s an idiot!”

But now I’m here, waiting in my freezing car (I really need to fix the damn A/C) for this man to show up so I can properly give him a lesson.

You all know that I’m very good at this and I’m quite confident myself about my skills; still, I wanted to throw in some extra fuel, so I had some chips and a very tasty, spicy taco… which I actually needed ‘cause I was starving.

What’s nice about my talent is that my farts are not as big as they are because I have a weak stomach. On the contrary, they’re as huge as they come because I have a very strong one.

Your belly hurts after eating at BellTaco? Sucks to be you, because I don’t know what that is: it all gets nicely converted to gas, dry powerful gas that I can effortlessly get rid of as if I’m breathing (from my ass… ok, you get the idea).

Then yes, I will take a good shit after a while, I too am a human, but we’re not here for that.

All you need to know is that whenever I face-fart my bro Tim, as disgusting as that is, I’m actually impressed by how he’s able to endure it. Not all my farts smell horrible, I’d say that I can roar very loudly… without biting too much, or not as much as you might expect, especially considering that I can fart like crazy even without any “fuel”.

But when they do smell, unless you’re as strong as Tim, you’re not gonna survive them.

I won’t even need to face-fart you directly: my farts have a quite wide, high DPS AOE.

And to be honest, that’s what the food I ate is for: flavor.

Yes, that’s a sentence I just said.

I can always rip long, loud and big ones, and while they do smell… they’re easy to endure. But throw some beer or some junk food into the mix, then you’re up for a good time.

And again, unless you’re Tim, with “good time” I mean “your nostrils will burn.”

“Here’s our guy.” I whispered, my eyes glued on the figure approaching the car.

I signaled the man with the car’s headlights and he responded with a quick gesture.

He quickly got into the vehicle and looked at me, looking serious… but not serious on purpose: it’s as if he was trying his best to play the part of a shady businessman.

“Are you… Scorpion?”

I almost laughed like an idiot.

Yes, I actually used a code-name and I knew it was silly, but I wasn’t ready for how ridiculous that was gonna sound during the meet up. Thankfully, the face-mask successfully hid my cheesy grin, so my eyes could (tentatively) do the serious talk. To avoid any further risk, I simply nodded.

“Good.” he said. Then he proudly patted his chest. “I’m Dura Lex”.

I started coughing, a deft way to hide the fact that I was now laughing. What the fuck did I get myself into? Who’s this guy?!

“Are you okay, Scorpion?”

Somehow that didn’t kill me and I managed to get myself together, fully aware that I was looking and sounding as ridiculous as him anyway.

“Sure.” I simply replied.

“That’s a good meeting spot. The darkness shall hide our deeds.”

Please, stop talking like this.

“I got the documents, if you’re still interested.” he pulled out of his jacket a folder and handed it to me.

“You can keep it… Dura Lex.” I had to pause for a few seconds, and not for dramatic effect. “For now.”

“Come on man, my ass is freezing.” he lamented, in a more nasal voice than before.

This guy’s “shady criminal mastermind” facade sure wore off quite quickly.

“You’re freezing, Dura Lex?” I asked. “Do you want me to… heat things up?”

I went for “tough guy”, but I’m pretty sure that sounded “unnecessary flirty” instead.

“Get to the point, Scorpion!”

You only had to ask.

Eyes glued on him, my right hand on the steering wheel, as if nothing weird was happening, I broke the silence by producing a muffled, rumbly sound with my ass. I was wearing a pair of jeans, but no clothes can stop my gas from reaching your nose.

“Are you…?”

The man was baffled, confused, surprised. Truth to be told, I can understand that.

I can’t blame him… but I will blow him… err… blow him away with my farts I mea- never mind, you get it.

The fart was warming my seat up and my face mask protected me from my own stench (which I was immune to anyway). I still had my eyes glued on Dura Loser or whatever his codename was, waiting for a reaction, which showed soon.

A disgusted facial expression appeared on his face. “Oh m-my God.” he stuttered, he coughed.

I leaned a bit to ease the fart out, and it got louder.

“What’s happening, Dura Lex? Something bothering you?” I said, pretending nothing weird was happening, almost yelling, so he could hear me over my loud fart.

“You’re a sick person, Scorpion. I’m outta here.”

My first blast ended after like 6 seconds. It was loud, airy, disgusting… and it was burning my asshole a bit. Spicy food tends to do that, but that also makes the stench more nauseating.

The man was trying to hold his breath already as he tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Open this damn door!” he asked. Or rather, he begged.

“What?! Leaving so soon?” I replied, the mask hiding my smirk. “I thought a professional ass kisser like you would love this!”

I ripped another loud, quick rip, leaning a bit more, so he could hear it clearly. A taste (or a threat) of what’s to come in a few minutes.

“Would you please stop with those damn toots?!” he screamed. Never seen a person so terrified of my farts.

Also, that was very offensive. Dude, I'm barely getting started! I carefully stretched my right arm towards him, my hand now firmly holding his mostly bald head.

“You thought those were toots, Dura Lex?” I firmly asked.

Now he was the one nodding.

“My bad!” I slowly pulled his head towards my ass. I leaned a bit more so I could more easily plant this man’s face where he belongs. “Allow me to fix that with the next one.”

The man tried to resist but my grip was strong enough to keep his nose as close as it needed be, right into my ass, which started to roar as soon as I finished talking.

A loud, deafening fart instantly hot-boxed the entire car.

“Oh my God!” he screamed, retching over the stench that burned his nostrils. “Let me go you asshole!”

I could barely hear him over my fart. “Yes, that’s where this is all coming from! Of course a kiss ass like you would know!” and I pulled him even closer to my denim-clad anus.

Tim usually just stays there and takes it, because of his fart kink, but I was struggling keeping this man where he belongs, as I kept farting right onto his face.

After 12 seconds, my blast finally ended.

Actually, it stopped ‘cause I wanted to. I wasn’t done.

“So, Dura Lex…” I started talking, pulling his face up, out of my ass, so I could look at him properly. “What were you exactly gonna do with those confidential documents?”

The man looked more confused than nauseated. “What are you talking about?”

“Wrong answer. Enjoy kissing my ass.”

I pushed him down again and I immediately resumed farting, the blast being even louder than before, as if the fart itself was mad it got interrupted. 8 more seconds of pure flatulence Hell, as I could tell because the stench was now so strong it even got past my mask.

I once again pulled the idiot up, who at this point simply accepted that he was basically my puppet as he stopped fighting back, probably startled by my gas too.

“So, I’m gonna ask again: what’s up with those confidential documents?”

Dura Lex shook his head. “Kiss my ass, Scorpion!” he managed to reply.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to say that.” I replied. "Like, at all."

And again his face was planted into my warm ass, which I made sure it was sagging, his nose rubbing on my denim and my blue underwear, which only made the stench more unbearable for him.

“Well, now you’re in the position to say that.”

I ripped another loud fart, which was greeted with more retching from my newest victim. As much as the small space of the car let me, I tried to stretch me left leg up, easing the fart out, and also because so I could more easily glue this man’s face into my cruel, farting ass.

The spicy junk food I ate earlier turned my anus into a fire-breathing gas weapon. I gotta say, I’m surprised this man hasn’t passed out yet because even the car windows are fogging up.

I wasn’t instead surprised at all by how big my farts were instead. I told you I’m good at this.

It kept going strong, as if Lex’s face wasn’t even there. I gotta say: he may be a jerk, but he was taking it like a champ… if we don’t count all the annoying whining at least.

“What the fuck!” he tried to get away one more time, but I kept his face down there, where it belonged, so he could breathe all of my gas in.

14 seconds and the fart finally started to lose power. For him it must have felt like hours.

Again we did our little “dance”, with me pulling his head up to question him.

“Just tell me what I wanna hear, Lex.” I said, with an evil smirk he couldn’t see because of my mask.

“I’m not talking.” he replied.

“That’s wise. You shouldn’t speak when your mouth is full.”

I pushed him down again, firmly planting his nose between my asscheeks, only a thin layer of clothes protecting his nose and mouth from the deep burning Hell that my asshole was becoming. I ripped another fart, as loud as the previous one, but much shorter.

Indeed, a very loud toot, 2 seconds long.

Still holding his head still, I spoke to him.

“Say it!”

“No! I'm not gonna say any-”

Another fart silenced him.

“Say it!” I insisted.

“Never!”

“Congratulations then! You just found one ass you’d never wanna kiss!”

Another loud, long blast followed and rumbled all over this man’s face. I could do this all night: I knew I had gas to spare. He was gonna break soon.

I made his nose rub on my sagging clothes so much so that it lowered my underwear as well, so the jerk's nose was in direct contact with my bare asscrack, right as I kept blasting him, basically wiping my ass on his face, the stench of my gas being mercilessly shoved down his throat.

15 more seconds of loud noises, a loud chainsaw-like sound making the entire car shake. Then, finally, silence again.

“Just say it, you bitch.”

“Fine!” he whined.

I pulled him up, his face sweaty and as smelly as my ass.

“I’m selling confidential documents.”

“And?” I threatened him by pushing him towards my ass again.

“And I’m making sure my co-workers get blamed for it.”

“Clever bitch.” I replied, satisfied with the answer.

I vehemently pushed him back on the passenger seat, his back hitting the door on his side of the car.

“Did you get that, bro?” I said, looking behind me, towards the back seats.

My friend Tim, who was lying back there the whole time, hidden under a black sheet, revealed himself. To keep his face unseen, he chose to wear a lobster mask which, to be honest, looked unnecessarily terrifying.

“Got every word, chief!” he said, holding his smartphone up, which he used to record everything.

I stared back at the man, with a smug, satisfied look.

“Fuck off. Both of you!” he yelled, pointing at us.

“Hey. Manners!” I said, as annoyingly as I could.

“Fuck you!”

Alright. One final lesson.

“Do you know why they call me Scorpion?”

“What?”

I once again reached for his head.

“Come here!” I shouted, in the deepest voice I could make.

I pulled his face down and the moment his nose touched my ass, I blasted him with another loud rip, or ‘toot’ as he dared to call them.

It was short (for my standards at least, about 5 seconds), but dense and stinky. My asshole was burning.

Once I was done shitting gas, I shoved him back to his place.

“So…?” I asked.

“I’m… I’m just gonna leave.”

I unlocked the car doors so he could get the fuck out of my car.

“You ruined me, you… you gassy, sicko monster!” he yelled. “I’m gonna lose my job and my damn money you bastard!”.

“Aw…” I said, mockingly slapping his cheek. “You’re a criminal mastermind, Dura Lex, you’ll figure it out.”

Both me and Tim laughed at him and he left, taking the documents with him.

After a few minutes, once we made sure Lex left for good, my bro Tim got on the passenger seat next to him.

“That was incredibly stupid and irresponsible.” he commented.

“Awesome, right?” I replied, even though he was right.

“Totally.” he admitted.

We removed our ridiculous masks and I drove the two of us back home. I rolled the windows down ‘cause even though my bro had a fart kink… even him couldn’t handle the stench I produced.

“Come here? Really?” Tim asked, all of the sudden.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the reference.” I said.

“I did, that’s why I’m cringing hard.” he joked.

“Oh I know you’re hard.” I teased him.

He just remained silent, which I found hilarious as usual.

“Don’t worry bro: you’re still my favourite fart victim.” I teased him again, like the annoying bastard I am.

Tim laughed a bit, shaking his head, as if he was still in disbelief about me being so chill about his kink.

“I guess you just love destroying my nostrils then.”

I winked at him in response, a smug smirk drawn on my face. I leaned towards him and whispered:

“Clever bitch.”

The End

#eproctophilia #davefarts #fart kink #fart story #malefarts

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jinxxangel13 · 9 months ago

Text

Phantom of the Night

Chapter 3-full

I've been so excited to post this chapter that I actually forgot to post it on time. I'm not surprised anymore! Hope you enjoy! Tw: blood, gore, death, minor character deaths, injuries, inaccurate military and medical terms (I tried to research as best as possible, sorry if they're wrong!)

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

Heavy set boots were all that could be heard around the hangard. Soldiers moving quickly on and around a transport plane, giving a wide berth to a large man with a completely black tactical gear, black skull balaclava and hard white skull mask cover the top half of the face mask: Lieutenant Ghost.

“Wheels up in five.”

Some soldiers rushed faster to get their seats on the plane and double check their gear, but a few remained rooted in their spot, Ghost included.

“Roger.” His gruff voice cut across the radio back to General Shepherd.

“Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeant are leading the way on this.”

Ghost tilted his head, annoyance in his voice lost in the neutral tone.

“Sergeant?”

A 6 foot tall man walked up to Ghost with an enthusiastic step. His hair shaved on the sides with a sort of mohawk down the center of his head, blue eyes sharp and full of excitement.

“Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.T.? Save ya a seat, sir.”

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

Soap fist bumped Ghost’s shoulder before making his way up the transport plane, making eye contact with another soldier walking up to the plane looking oddly out of place.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grumbled.

“Ghost- do you copy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any issues?”

“Negative, Sir.”

“Good. Captain Phantom will also be joining you on this mission. Get it done.”

Just as Shepherd finished his statement, the mystery figure Soap saw previously made their way towards Ghost.

The figure was wearing black tactical cargo pants with multiple knife straps and holsters on the thighs, a black long sleeve with a hooded overlay on top, tac vest full of frags, flashbangs, extra ammo clips and other things in pouches unknown to anyone except the figure wearing it, as well as a short black scarf around their neck and tucked into their vest. They had a balaclava across the lower half of their face with a thick black metal tactical mask over it, grey eyes almost gleaming as they stopped in front of Ghost, and their hair was underneath the scarf and out of view so he couldn’t identify this mystery person. When they stopped in front of Ghost, they had to look up quite a bit; being less than 6' compared to the 6'4" man didn't seem to be a deterrent for them at all.

“Lieutenant Ghost, good to meet you. Captain Phantom.” The figure, the female, stuck her gloved hand out towards him.

Ghost shook her hand briefly, keeping in mind the strong grip each of them had on the other’s before they let go.

“On your move, sir. I’ve been requested by the General and Station Chief Laswell to accompany you and your men as backup on Alpha Team. I’m familiar with the mission and have been read in.” Her voice was deep, partially muffled and grainy from behind both masks, but she didn't seem to mind nor care.

Ghost nodded, turned away from her and walked right up into the transport plane with her at his heels to grab a seat and buckle in just as the door sealed shut for takeoff.

The teams spent a while in the air, not much conversation going on except for Ghost to introduce Phantom to Alpha team briefly.

“Bravo Team offloads here. Alpha Team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.” Ghost's strong voice echoed through the radio in Phantom’s ear as well as directly in front of her.

She watched as Bravo team got ready to unload as the plane landed momentarily, nodding to Ghost as they made eye contact and accepting a first bump from Soap as they got off.

Phantom pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gripped tightly onto her M16 between her legs as the plane took off again to head to their final destination. She kept herself strapped in on instinct, as if something was telling her to brace herself and she was never one to ignore her instincts.

Another minute in the air and it grew more tense as she exchanged glances with her other team members after the plane made a sudden drop on the right side.

“All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we're getting lit! Incoming- Flares! Flares!”

Phantom’s eyes grew wide as one of the soldiers stood up to go help the pilots. She could hear the flares going off outside of their plane as it righted itself once again.

“Shit- that was fucking close.”

She chuckled, agreeing with another soldier in front of her and letting her shoulders relax themselves slightly.

“Second missile!”

Phantom barely had any time to brace herself and her weapon before a loud crash sounded on the right side of the plane, throwing anything or anyone not strapped down off balance. She grappled a soldier about to crumple to the ground, pulling him down onto the seat next to her.

“Razor 1 going down! We're going down!” That was the last thing Phantom heard in her ear before she felt the plane plummet down to the ground, grinding and crunching metal the only thing anyone in the vicinity could hear.

The sound was deafening; a ringing in her ears as she slowly came to. Everything was blurry and she couldn’t make out the garbled voices in her ear before a shrill let off through her radio. With a heavy hand, she ripped the contraption out of her ear before taking a moment to regain her bearings.

Phantom could barely register her own coughing, let alone the one or two soldiers near her as she struggled to unbuckle herself from her seat.

“Alp--immobile. -Critical! Taking effective fire!”

Phantom shook her head a little, running her hand across her head, hissing as she brushed against a gash over her temple; must have hit her head on the headrest or something. The piercing sound of bullets from around them was grounding her enough to be able to open her eyes, finding her gun still hooked around her foot.

“Still alive there, Cap?”

Phantom’s eyes were unfocused as she looked around the voice, jolting when a hand steadied her as she stood up. Her legs almost collapsed from underneath her, but she knew they’d be dead if she didn’t stay upright.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was harsh as she spoke, finally able to get her hands to stop shaking enough to lift her gun up.

Muscle memory started to kick in as her mind caught up with the fact they were in the middle of the battlefield. The man in front of her she didn’t know except his radio callsign.

“Just you and I?”

Alpha 0-2 and Phantom looked around.

“5 KIA, one wounded, you and I standing. Get your gun on that treeline. Gotta hold them off until Bravo team can clear those buildings.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Phantom leaned heavily against the right wall, windows blown out, and raised her gun to help drop as many AQ members as possible.

She could barely hear the other man over the sounds of gunfire and rpg’s going off in the background, but she could tell that he was talking to Bravo team over his radio.

“I don’t have coms! What’s going on?”

There was a lapse in firing, so Phantom took the moment to reload her gun as quickly as possible; easier said than done when her hands were still shaking from adrenaline, but it at least distracted from the headache.

“Bravo team is on their way. Keep your eyes peeled!”

“Copy!” Was her immediate reply as she leaned her back against the metal siding.

Barely 30 seconds had passed before she heard footsteps fast approaching the opened back of the plane. As she turned her sights towards the entrance, she heard a familiar voice hastily calling out to the two of them.

“Blue, blue, blue!”

Her posture relaxed slightly as Ghost and Soap ran into the plane wreckage.

“Damn good to see you both.” Phantom groaned out, repositioning herself against the corner of the window, switching to her rifle and pointing it out as she focused her eyes on the treeline but still listening to the men.

“We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo. Help me move him-”

“No time.” Ghost cut him off, sliding behind Phantom to pat her shoulder and set himself up at the next window. “Get your gun on that treeline.”

Soap set himself up in a crouching position at the plane opening after placing down a few proximity mines a few paces away as a last resort.

Phantom's eyes narrow through her scope, catching Ghost’s attention at the tensing of her posture.

“See anything?” Ghost’s voice was heavier than previously.

Phantom kept her hands steady as she zeroed in on something in the distance.

“Got movement.”

“If you have a shot, take it.”

That was all that she needed to block out any further conversation between her teammates and take initiative: headshot.

A smirk made its way across her lips from under the mask as she set up her next few shots. Phantom wasn’t registering what they were saying around her even though she could hear them until she felt the plane rock back from the force of an RPG. If it wasn't for the quick reaction time of Ghost grabbing onto the back of her vest, she would have been flung backwards from the force.

When the dust settled, she straightened herself back up, switching back to her M16.

“Thanks, L.T.” Phantom nodded to him, switching places with Soap at the opening instead.

“We clear?” Soap kept looking out of his scope, even after Phantom gave him a nod.

Ghost huffed, reloading his gun. “For now.”

#141 x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly tf141 #captain john price x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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loopy777 · 7 months ago

Note

Is Zuko a Gary Stu? A lot more people are becoming anti-Zuko especially after the comics. Thoughts?

Well, it depends how we're defining "Gary Stu." I tend to prefer a strict definition for it and "Mary Sue," that of a self-insert wish-fulfillment character. I also don't personally consider it to necessarily be a negative; one of my favorite fictional characters is George Lucas' Flash Gordon Gary Stu, Luke Skywalker.

But the common internet usages for the term typically translates to "character favored by the narrative and/or storyteller(s) to a degree that harms the story." So I'll address both definitions.

I don't think Zuko is any kind of wish-fulfillment character in the AtLA cartoon, nor do I think the narrative shows him any favoritism. In fact, I'd say the story goes out of its way to make things harder for Zuko than the basic character arc demands. It could've had him switch sides at the end of Book Earth, and I don't think there would have been much complaining. Likewise, the story could have had gAang come around to him a lot sooner in Book Fire, rather than spending entire episodes (and in Sokka's case a two-parter) reconciling him with the gAang one-by-one. I think his character arc is improved and given more impact by the desire to cover this extra rocky ground, although I also think 'The Boiling Rock' didn't need to be a two-parter and all of early Book Fire's filler episodes with the gAang should have been relocated to after Zuko's defection so that they'd have the added interest of showcasing the expanded gAang's new dynamic.

Ah, but then we get to the comics. I'm going to assume we're talking about Gene Yang's comics specifically, since Zuko has not appeared substantially in anything written by anyone else. It's easy to harp on these comics' use and treatment of Zuko, but I want to be clear that they're poorly written on pretty much every level. The dialogue is bad. Major plot threads are abandoned without comment. Everyone is mischaracterized. The humor is more juvenile than anything in the cartoon. What stories are told spin their wheels until they get wrapped up in a rush. There's bad, racist, pro-colonialism messages baked into them all. Etc and so on.

And yes, I do think these comics favor Zuko to their detriment and his. Gene Yang has admitted that Zuko is his favorite character in the cast. But even if he hadn't, we can see in 'The Promise' that the presentation has a lopsided preference for Zuko over Aang, the other main character of the story. Zuko is not portrayed as wrong for pressuring Aang to promise to kill him, despite Aang being uncomfortable with it and the whole idea being against Aang's major beliefs; compare that to the cartoon, where Zuko was portrayed as wrong and bullying in his attitude to try to get Aang to kill Ozai. In the matter of the former Fire Nation colonies, Aang and Zuko have opposing approaches, but rather than the story taking the stance that they need to compromise and mix'n'match their ideas, Zuko gets to utter the line, "I was right all along," while Aang has to be lectured by Katara, admit to being wrong, compromise with the Air Acolytes, and break off his relationship with his ghost mentor.

In 'The Search,' Zuko goes on to find his mother and learn her backstory, something that ends up not troubling or challenging him at all. She gives up her new identity to become his doting mother again and Zuko doesn't have a single doubt about it. He gets an adoring little sister in the form of Kiyi, despite her having a real problem with her mother choosing to become Ursa instead of keeping her familiar form. And his questionable treatment of Azula is not addressed; like Aang in 'The Promise,' she's the one who has to compromise (or in this case refuses to compromise).

You can see the pattern here of Zuko's presentation. This is where we can start to question if Zuko is Gene Yang's self-insert, but to do so, we would have to assume a lot of stuff about Gene Yang. For example, he breaks up Zuko's romance with Mai and then starts hinting at something with him and Suki; does that mean Gene Yang wants to date Suki? Then why bring Mai back so prominently in 'Smoke & Shadow' and then both go easy on her mistakes and break her up from Kei Lo at the end? Maybe Gene Yang wants a harem with both Suki and Mai, but if that's the case, then it's pretty odd that he ends his run on the comics with Zuko dating neither.

We could do the same for other aspects of Zuko's presentation (Does Yang want a tiny powerful Firebender as a little sister? Does he think all colonizers are awesome? Does he advocate denying first-amendment rights in times of danger? Is his favorite food to eat at winter time extra-spicy fire noodles?) But we'd probably run into similar questions we can't answer, leaving us to either assume way too much that would likely be wrong or admit that it doesn't matter.

Which brings us back to the much simpler idea of the character being favored beyond what is warranted. That helps with examining 'Smoke & Shadow,' where Zuko is actually portrayed as making some wrong choices for once in all of Yang's run of comics, like ordering his people's homes invaded and trashed on a vague hope that he'll find some information about Azula- but before that, he's somehow enlightened enough to make rainbow fire, and afterward, he solves everything with a quick apology to his people.

Usually, the narratives ignore Zuko's flaws and twist themselves into weird shapes to justify things. It's like Gene Yang started with the intentions of having Zuko make mistakes and grow over the course of the various stories, but then chickens out, so we're left with themes that feel incomplete or outright harmful. Zuko doesn't need to grow beyond his desire to have a Fire Nation elite (and their pet Earth Kingdom spouses and servants) rule over the former colonies forever, he gets to say, "I was right all along." He starts by locking Azula away in a straight-jacket, but then doesn't find a way to reconcile with her and treat her more humanely, because she goes fully homicidal and then runs away so he doesn't need to deal with her. But in 'Smoke & Shadow,' we get one example where, probably because Yang doesn't see it as that bad in the first, Zuko is allowed to temporarily be wrong before returning to a state of grace.

I think Gene Yang is trying to tell good Avatar stories. But, among his (many, many, many) mistakes, I think he's letting his favor for Zuko influence the stories he's trying to tell. He's trying to give his favorite character juicy dramatic material that lets him grow into an even more awesome character- but then he shies away from depicting his favorite in too harsh a light, ruining the whole thing.

The stories don't feel like they're going anywhere with him, despite him being a main character.

So if that fits with your definition of "Gary Stu," then yes, Zuko has become one in the comics. But he didn't start as one in the cartoon, and I don't think Gene Yang writes stories out of a desire for his favorite to marry Suki because Sword Girlfriend > Knife Wife.

Perhaps that's why he never got Maiko back together; he likes Mai too much to make her the one in the wrong, but then that would mean Zuko needs to learn and grow, and that can't be right. ;)

#anonymous #avatar comics critical #atla comics critical #comics critical

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 11 months ago

Text

Matthew | There Is Something Behind Your Eyes | Platonic

Requested: Yes

Matthew is convinced that the stranger at his booth must be an angel.

One, two, three.

Matthew turns his key three times.

Maybe a fourth time for good measure? No, he decides against it. After all, he has to catch the cart driver lest he arrive too late and has to walk all the way to the other side of the village. He cannot risk it.

He gulps in disgust as a few rats scurry barely past his feet. Pressing the rag clutched in his hand against his nose, he tries to block out the smell.

Everything inside of him has been on edge lately. He cannot put any words nor reason to the odd and unfamiliar feeling, but it is there, and he is not sure what to make of it. For now, he blames it on the current dynamic within the fishing village of Capernaum. Things are tense and uneasy, as if something massive is about to go down.

Matthew remembers the riot around here about a year ago, and hopes that this time around it will be extinguished before it can break loose. After all, he left the last revolt against the Romans unscathed, but this time around, he cannot be so certain.

“You there, public-anus!” The man with the cart Matthew has made an arrangement with already stands waiting for him just outside the street near his house. Attempting to not retch at the stench of sheep dung, Matthew approaches him slowly, trying to keep his sandals clean to his best ability. “Hurry up and get in!”

Matthew does not correct the wrong pronunciation of his professional title, instead hops inside the cart with uncharacteristic haste. He does not want to risk being seen, even if it means potentially getting his expensive garment stuck on any rusty nails in the process. He pulls over the cover, laying down inside the hay that the salesman transports in spite of its dampness. Once down, Matthew feels the cart shift into motion. Neither of them speak to one another whilst the tax-collector watches the street underneath him through a gap between the planks on the bottom, the sound of squeaking wheels filling his ears.

Perhaps he could ask Gaius to become his daily escort, Matthew wonders. If his calculations are correct, people wouldn’t even try to bother him while he is on his way to work, then.

Suddenly, the cart halts - halfway through the journey, Matthew knows - right before the market square. “Get out!” the merchant hisses at him, “I can’t be seen with you. I need to drop off my goods here and I cannot take the risk!”

Matthew is momentarily blinded by the sunlight as the man lifts up the cover. “Out, taxman!”

“I-If you want to take risk into consideration, I’d say that there would be more of a risk of you being caught if I were to get out here rather than if you were to bring me directly to the booth–”

“I don’t want to hear it! Out!”

Apprehensively, Matthew exits the wagon and pulls up his shoulders, making himself as invisible as he can. His cream-coloured tunic makes it difficult to miss him. He stands out like a sore thumb. If the tax-collector wanted to remain unseen, he should have picked a different outfit.

An impatient palm appears in his field of vision, and Matthew fishes a leather pouch of money from the satchel on his hip. He pulls it open and counts the money inside, taking out a few denarii, then counting on his fingers, eyes lifted up in thought.

“What are you doing?” the merchant queries.

“Counting how much I owe you. Technically, you brought me about halfway through the village, so that is half the amount agreed upon. However, when taking into consideration the liability that I will now have to undergo due to me having to travel further on foot, I will have to withhold about twenty percent of the amount owed–”

“Just give it to me!” the man snaps, grabbing the pouch of money from his hand before Matthew can realise it, “You’re costing me money as you speak. Consider the extra as collateral due to the risk of being seen with you.”

Matthew opens his mouth to protest, but he is not intimidating enough for the merchant to not just walk away with his cart. Knowing that fighting it will make things even worse, Matthew sighs and lets it go, thinking about the safest route to take through the city in order to be exposed to the public eye as briefly as possible.

Once the transaction has been made, the man grunts and walks off with his cart, muttering under his breath that this was the final time they’ve done business. Matthew tilts his head slightly and calculates the best direction to go into to avoid conflict before starting his trek towards the booth.

He ignores the scornful glares sent his way; after all, he is so used to it at this point that he’d be more taken aback by actual kindness. Gaius is already waiting for him, his usual scowl on his face, as if he doesn’t want to be here. Perhaps that the Primi Ordines doesn’t necessarily like guard duty in a place of such regular unrest.

Matthew greets him with a short mumble and enters his booth, laying out his necessary tools in front of him. Everything has its own place, and he enjoys the feeling of a tidy desk. It’s one of the few things he can control at all times, and Matthew takes great pride in keeping it clean.

The morning goes on as usual, with occasional displeasure from tax-payers as well as tears streaming down pockmarked, hollow faces, but Matthew stoically goes through with it. The sun is past its highest point when it becomes a little more bearable in the booth, and Gaius leans against the wall, sighing as he eats an apple. Matthew vaguely remembers the Primi mentioning that the change of guard was coming up soon, but the publicanus wasn’t sure how long ago he had said it.

The amount of customers is declining as the day carries on, most people heading to their homes to prepare for Shabbat instead. It gives Matthew a rare moment of peace and quiet in his booth, and he takes some time to sort out his ledger, checking for any errors in the calculations and–

“Shalom.”

Matthew startles a bit at the sudden voice and looks up. A young woman about his own age stands in front of the booth, a kind smile on her face. Her (e/c) eyes slightly glitter as she watches him curiously.

“Sh-Shalom.” Matthew stutters, putting his current chore aside. “How may I help you?” He doesn’t recognise you from around here.

“Just here to have a chat.”

Matthew grabs his ledger. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).” you introduce yourself, and tell him where you are from. “So no, I don’t have any open debts to pay you.”

The way you’re looking up at him is not very familiar to him. There is a gentle expression on your face, and he isn’t sure what to make of it.

“Then what do you want?” Matthew wants to know.

“You’re Jewish, right?” you query.

Matthew nods, looking at Gaius from the corner of his eye. The Primi doesn’t seem to mind your presence, instead gazing out over the empty streets, unbothered by the conversation going on right beside him.

“I am.”

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask.

There is no accusation nor malice in your voice, a tone regarding his profession that is quite new to Matthew.

“My-My job.” he mutters, “If I can’t help you with your taxes, I’d like to wish you a good day.”

You let out a hum and watch him curiously. “Shouldn’t you be home, preparing for Shabbat? It’s almost sundown…”

“I… Don’t. I-I think you should go, though… Otherwise, you won’t be home in time, either.”

Your smile is soft. “Don’t you worry about me, now. You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“That’s not important–”

“Matthew–” Gaius pipes up, “Can you get her to hurry? That change of guard is apparently not happening and I am really in need of a break, so I want to close up this booth for a while.”

Matthew sighs and you hum. “Matthew, huh? Don’t worry, Primi, I’ll be here just for another minute or so.” You turn back to the tax-collector.

“Listen, Matthew, I know a lot of people loathe you and shame you for the work you do. You chose to work for the Romans, so part of their indignation is justified. However, I crossed past your booth and was overcome with the conviction to share something with you today. A word.”

“A word?” Matthew looks at you a bit puzzled.

You hum in agreement. “I’m with this group of people. With a Rabbi. I think you’ve heard about Him, too, haven’t you? I can feel that you have.”

Matthew feels his throat run dry - yes, now he faintly recognises you walking alongside the followers of this infamous Rabbi. He had indeed heard about Him causing quite the stir, but he had never investigated it.

“What about it?” He tries to sound indifferent, but something wavers in his voice. You give him a kind smile and reach out through the gap in the booth. You do not touch him, but lay your hand close to him. Gaius eyes you a bit suspiciously, but when Matthew does not display any sign that you’re assaulting him in any way, he looks away again.

“I think Jesus is going to call you out of the darkness and into the light.” you whisper. “That is His name, by the way. The name of my Rabbi.”

For a few moments, Matthew rapidly blinks, staring at you dumbfounded. “What do you mean by that?”

“Because whenever we pass by this booth while in town, I get this feeling inside my heart to come over and talk to you. One of the other followers always hisses something under his breath about you, but I think it’s not totally justified. Sure, you’ve chosen this profession and thus betrayed our people by working for our oppressors, but…” your smile grows a bit, “I think you’re more than that.”

Matthew feels his face heat up slightly with a hint of shame. Why are you being so kind to him without even knowing who he is? Even though the sole thing you know about him is that he betrayed your people?

“I think you feel that sentiment towards me just because you’re not from around here. I suggest you leave me alone and go to pay your taxes in your own county.” Matthew moves away, but you lean a little closer.

“Matthew,” you pipe up, “Why do you think I’m meeting you here minutes before Shabbat? I am here for a reason, and I need you to know this. If… If you choose to follow Him one day, because I am convinced that He will call you one day or another… You will need a friend, someone to stick up for you. Know that I’ll be that person.”

Abashed, he shakes his head. “I don’t have friends and I don’t need them, either.”

The smile that grows on your face is nothing short of angelic.

“And yet, the offer still stands. Just had to let you know, okay?” You look at the sky, thinking for a long moment. “If I want to be at my friend Mary’s place before sundown, I’ll have to go now. Shalom shalom, Matthew. I have a feeling we’ll see one another soon.”

At a loss for words, Matthew replies a soft “Shalom,” as you give him a friendly nod and walk off, and he leans closer to the iron bars to keep watching you until you disappear behind the corner.

“Well,” Gaius huffs, “Believe it or not, I think that’s the nicest way I’ve ever seen someone talk to you.”

Matthew does not reply, instead stands in silence, his mind racing with questions.

A few weeks later, Matthew is standing in his booth, going about his day, when a familiar group of people enters his field of vision as they pass by. A few wisps of (h/c) hair draw his attention and you look over your shoulder, making eye-contact with him.

As soon as Jesus halts, a smile forms over your lips. Matthew tears his gaze away from you to settle it on the Rabbi, Who looks at him with a determined look on His face.

“Matthew, son of Alphaeus.”

Matthew blinks, wondering for a second if there is another person with the exact same name standing right behind him, and he leans closer. Your eyes glitter as you gaze at Jesus, and then back at the tax-collector in the booth.

“Yes?” he breathes.

“Follow Me.”

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #the chosen matthew #the chosen matthew x reader #matthew x reader

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aboutcustardcreams · 9 months ago

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Can't hide you the truth

Wilhemina Venable x reader

I've got no warnings for this os, it's essentially fluff and a bit silly. I wrote it down using these two prompts "Please, stay on the phone with me." & "Stop telling me you're fine." I've been watching a lot of Modern Family recently, so it's not exactly angsty as one would expect. I hope it's decent anyway. Lemme know <3

It was the third time that I tried to reach out to her, but no answer. I know I shouldn't worry, but it wasn't like her to avoid my calls, especially if insistent. I start thinking about every little scenarios, from the worst to the least worst, with my mind focusing on the first ones obviously. What if she isn't feeling well? Maybe I did something bad without noticing? Could be? I quickly check the date on my phone, think a couple of seconds and no, it wasn't neither our anniversary nor any other special date worth remembering. I squint my eyes in thought. What was happening, then?

I tighten my grip on the wheel and let out a long sigh. On top of all of this, I'm stuck in the traffic, and visibility is partially limited due to the light haze covering the surroundings. I groan, after waiting a couple of extra minutes, "Siri, call Mina, again." I'd have tried to reach out to her on and on if I had to. I silently beg that she answers me, counting each second passing inside my head. In the meantime, I turn on the heating, because my fingers are getting cold due to their stillness on the wheel.

Finally, she answers. When I hear her voice, murmuring a soft "hi, little one", I let out a long breath, I didn't know I was holding. "Mina, hi! I've tried calling you for a while, is everything okay?", I wonder aloud, "Also, I'm stuck in traffic, " I make a face, "I go at a snail's pace if you're wondering and-", I stop a moment, realizing that, as per usual, I'm speaking on and on without giving my girlfriend the opportunity to answer any of my questions. I hear a faint chuckle from her part, when I mutter a faint, "Sorry."

"I was taking a shower, sweetheart, that's why I didn't answer," I frown at the sound of her voice, that appears to be a bit off, tired maybe... but also, kind of restrained. Normally she would tease me, use one of her sarcastic jokes to tell me how silly I am, but none today. "Are you sure it's just that?" It's not that I don't believe her. On the contrary, it's essentially because I do, that I believe there is more to it she isn't saying. Plus, she normally waits for me to take a shower, because it's our thing. One of the moments we share to enjoy the intimacy of one another. Each and every time she reminds me how much she loves to lather and rinse my hair, occasionally leaving sloppy kisses here and there on my skin. Her hands make my stomach flip and my head fly into outer space.

I avert my gaze from the street ahead of me to the phone, tempted to activate the camera, when she hums without giving me a verbal response. "Wilhemina...", I insist, in a sing song tone. She knows that when I use her full name, I'm either concerned or mad. I hope she knows it's not the latter. "Y/n...", she mimics my tone, probably wriggling her eyebrows too. I can't immediately tell if it's an attempt to take the edge off or not. Truth is, she gets particularly annoyed when I insist on asking her how she feels. I've learned to know that the last thing she wants is to feel a burden to me. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her she could never be, that my asking is simply a way to show her I love her. Yet it still doesn't stick in that stubborn head of hers for some reason.

"We have been on the phone for ten minutes and you haven't made any sexual innuendo yet," I point out. I start worrying for real, when she doesn't even chuckle at that. Perhaps, she has a bad back pain? Or maybe those dickheads at work did something bad to her? I need answers or I'll go crazy, "Little one, how many times do I have to tell you I'm fine to make you believe it?", I can tell she is trying to use a more cheerful tone, but it breaks my heart that after all this time she still tries to hide from me. I sigh tiredly, as i slowly massage the root of my nose, "we can continue for all the time you want, or you can just tell me the truth," considering I move at the pace of an ant carrying ten thousand times its weight, I let my guard down and rest my chin over my arm.

I don't hear her tapping her cane, so I suppose she is sitting somewhere, or maybe she is lying down. She normally would have after an answer like that, but purposefully avoids what I just said, to ask, "Are you still long away? Where are you precisely?", her voice seems to crack a bit when she pronounces her second question. Or maybe it's only my imagination considering she insists on saying she is fine. I blink softly, still taking a mental note on that. "Uhm," I look around me, before answering, "I'm pretty close. If it wasn't for this traffic, I'd be there in five minutes at max. I just passed the florist on the 14th street, " I inform her and she hums. I can almost hear her breathing through the phone. It's like she is clinging to it, keeping it super close to her ear. I can almost see her frowning, her slow blinking.

If the camera was on, I'm sure I'd recognize it in a split second. "Mina...", I voice out softly, "are you in pain, love?", she takes a while to respond, giving me the further proof I didn't need. Yet, she decides to keep lying to me. "No, of course not, why would you think that?"she says flatly. As she speaks I shake my head in slow motion, without beliving a single word that is coming out of her. "Babe...", a bitter smile cracks my lips. I'm hurt honestly, but I push past that pain to focus on hers, "I told you, I'm-", "Stop telling me you're fine." I interrupt her, my voice laced with urgency and deep care. I'm pretty sure she's just rolled her eyes at me now, which puts a brief smile on my face. Wilhemina can be the most stubborn woman in the whole world, when she tries.

I lost count of all the times I reminded her that hiding, lying, pretending serve no good in a committed relationship like ours. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to be in pain and tell your girlfriend about it. There is no shame in it, but Wilhemina is still so proud to let go to such vulnerabilities without a little fight. "Do you want me to lie to you?", I scoff and say, "You're already doing that, that's why I'd like you to stop," I grin softly, when I hear her groan on the other side of the phone.

Without noticing the car before me has come to an halt. I almost bump into it, but I manage to help it by hitting the brake by force the very last minute. My car boings off a bit and as consequence I bounce on the seat, "Woah, shit!", I curse under my breath, but loud enough for Wilhemina to hear. "Y/n? What happened?", she questions, her voice an octave higher, "Are you alright?", I can't help but melt at her caring tone, "Yeah, all good, still alive unluckily for ya, " a hint of a smile graces upon my lips, when she scoffs and calls me imprudent for getting distracted while driving.

I know how much she hates it when I multitask while on the road, but in my defense, she is giving me enough reason to worry about her with all those unnecessary mysteries. "You should keep your eyes on the street, little one. We can talk once-" I don't let her finish, letting out a loud and urgent, "No!", instead. I sigh and move my finger over my smartphone to activate the camera. When she can see me but in return I'm still facing a black screen, I snort again, "I mean it- I will not let you change the topic, Mina," nothing changes yet. "Can I see my girlfriend or should I speak to a black screen?", I pout and she hums in thought, "Come on!", I insist.

"I'd very much prefer you focused on driving, little one," she says as I hear her sigh, and slowly shift position. Something tells me she was lying down by the sound of the sheets moving underneath her. Now she is sitting up, I'm sure, "Please, stay on the phone with me," I whine, displaying my infallible, fine as hell, pickle lips. I hear a faint chuckle from her. She is probably shaking her head too. I'm dying to kiss that face once I'm back home, "Besides, I can multitask," I add to prove my point. I hear her click her tongue in response, a clear sign she doesn't agree with me, "Like that time you tried to make french toasts and record the episodes of 'Orange is the new Black'?", she teases and I gasp in shock. Each and every time, she uses that story against me to prove a point. "Stop using that story! It's as old as the birth of Rome!"

She chuckles, "It doesn't make it less efficient, though," she retorts making me snort, "If you don't turn on the camera right now I'll scream," I'm playing all the cards at my disposal now, and this one beyond my wild expectations works, "Fine! I wouldn't want to arrange your funeral for bumping into a car that goes about eight miles per hour," I squint my eyes towards her and fake a chuckle. When I finally see her, a sense of guilt rushes over me. She looks... exhausted. Her soft red locks, loose on the shoulders, are still partially damp from the shower. Her eyes looks weary, not fully open either, probably because they carry a mild headache along with the back pain. Her lips, however, are stretched in a placid smile. It feels like she is trying to force some vibrancy out of her. But she doesn't have to, especially when she isn't in the mood. I wish she knew.

"It's the back, isn't it?", I say tentatively and she simply gives me a nod of her head. "m' sorry. I'm almost there, alright?", she cracks a smile, ready to diminish her pain, but I hear none of that, "I'll take care of dinner when I come back. Lie down on the left side, I remember it's the position that is most comfortable to you, then uhm— medicine's in my bedside drawer," I continue, remembering to having put a tin of pills there. She raises an eyebrow at that, "Should I run to the drugstore to get you anything else?", if it wasn't for Wilhemina, I'd probably never stop rambling, especially when it comes to her, "Y/n, for the love of God, just relax," there is some strictness in her tone, that makes me obey like a puppy to her owner.

"I'm a big girl. I don't need a babysitter doing things for me," I know she doesn't mean to be harsh with me. It's the pain speaking for her. Instead of answering to the provocation, I simply smile at her, "Oh I know, you certainly don't need a babysitter, but I do, look--" I point out at the greenish spot on my once white and immaculate blouse, "I stained it with the avocado cream," I feel like coming back to life when her eyes soften and she lets out a quiet, low chuckle, while shaking her head, "Why am I not surprised?", she hums amusedly, and I stick my tongue out at her in response. "Have you been working like that all day long?", she wonders in disbelief, while I nod solemnly, "Yep, ma'am," I say, popping the "p" childishly, "Add the laundry to the list of things you have to do once you come back," she teases and I giggle softly, "Fist things first," I say, with a wink.

"Oh, I wonder what those would be?", I pretend to think a couple of seconds, before saying, "Kissing my girlfriend for a start, brushing her hair, giving her a massage, make her some tea, kissing her again--", Mina hardly stifles a laugh and says, "Alright, fine, I got it. Get your ass over here, I've waited long enough," I nibble on my bottom lip as I recognize the familiar twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, my, my, looks like I've arrived," I chant and before we know it I find myself stopping the car right in front of our house. She smiles and a light blush comes coloring her cheeks, "At last," she mutters, looking at me with nothing but pure love in the eyes.

#american horror story #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #writing prompts #sarah paulson images #wilhemina venable #cute and fluffy #wlw

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professional-benaddict · 9 months ago

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next part of the omegaverse au 🤍🤍 link to previous part. everything will be up on AO3 as well, so keep an eye out for that😌😌 @winterspiderpurrs

A month has passed, and Tony has not gotten better. He hasn’t gotten worse either, which Peter sees as a bonus.

The Alpha is still overly aggressive due to his high testosterone levels, and the doctors they have been consulting do not have any straights answers. The only thing they can offer is that Tony takes some pills, in the hopes of it slowing the testosterone production and thus helping Tony’s overall health.

But, Tony has not been consistent when it comes to taking the pills. And since they are dealing with hormones, it will be weeks or months before the medication will work properly. It is hard to stay focused and motivated to take them.

Besides, the Alpha is too busy tending to his Omega and his family.

Peter has been scheduled for surgery to have his ovarian tubes tied, which will leave him sterile. It will be done laprascopically, so he will only get a few small scars on his belly. The recovery time is drastically shorter than if he were to have his entire uterus removed.

Peter is happy with his choice. Tony and Peter are more than ready to settle for the three kids they have. Besides, Peter’s body could not handle another pregnancy. Nor does it seem like Tony can handle the extra pressure of another child.

Tony takes time off from work for Peter’s surgery, and for the week after. Ben and Harley do not have classes on Peter’s surgery day, and they both said they wanted to come with to support their dad. The boys also promise to visit often to help out, but they do have some classes they cannot miss later in the week. Morgan will be staying with Pepper and Happy again, at least for a few days.

Everything is settled and ready, and Peter, Tony and the two boys head to the hospital.

The Omega gets checked in and soon enough he has his own room to wait in. Tony helps him get changed into the gown.

“You nervous?” Peter asks his Alpha.

Harley and Ben went to get some snacks, so they have a moment to themselves.

“No. I mean, yes, but you’re the one going under the knife. Aren’t you nervous?”

“No, not really. It’s just a few snips, they said. And I’m excited to have one less thing to worry about, you know?”

“Yeah.” Tony sighs, leaning down to smell at Peter’s neck. The Omega leans into the touch and rubs at his Alpha’s neck. “I just want this over. So we can be okay.”

“We will be okay. We’ll get you fixed too.”

Peter feels Tony stiffen and pull away. But, before he can ask about it, the boys return with snacks. And a short moment later, a nurse arrives saying she will take Peter to get prepped.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here, so say your goodbyes. Just for now.” The nurse smiles gently.

Tony, Ben and Harley all kiss and hug Peter.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry!” Peter smiles brightly.

Harley, Ben and Tony remain behind, watching as Peter is wheeled out on his bed and away from them. Ben gives his younger brother a pat on the back, then looks over at their father.

“Papa, he will be okay. Yeah?” Ben says.

But, Tony’s not listening. The blood rushing in his ears is too loud.

#omegaverse au #my fics #baby purrs #starker #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark #peter parker

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villainsview · 1 month ago

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Chapter 4

It Takes Guts

This better be worth it.

Mike Tracy was significantly heavier now that he was dead. Did Miss Thorne really have to kill him on the second floor? I carefully dragged his lifeless body down the stairs, trying not to get his blood on my clothes just yet. Hopefully the parking lot was still abandoned and no one would spot me dragging a corpse towards my van.

I didn’t have time to be super careful, or I would lose the window to get some good value out of his organs, if he even had any decent working ones. If not, Miss Thorne had put her number in my phone, saying she owed me a bonus one way or another. Her half-smoked cigarette was tucked behind my ear for later, having extinguished it first of course.

Finally I reached my van, dropping the body on the ground for now as I opened the side door. Erick was sitting quietly in his corner, exactly where and how I had left him.

“Close your eyes,” I said, not having the time nor the patience to blindfold him for this next part.

The teen shot me a questioning look, but one glare in his direction was enough to get him to obey. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling in suspense.

“And keep them closed, until I tell you otherwise,” I ordered, bending over to drag Tracy into the van.

I just about caught the teen nodding whilst keeping his eyes closed. Good enough. I shoved all of Tracy and his limbs into the van before closing the door again and getting behind the wheel. Before driving off, I pulled out my phone to call another contact, but Thorne’s page was still open. Keira Thorne…either she used a fake name, or she was incredibly confident. I doubt she was any kind of stupid.

I closed her page and scrolled through my contacts, finding the right name and pressed call and speaker, tossing my phone in the passenger’s seat before driving off. It rang a while before my contact finally picked up.

“Fetcher? It’s the middle of the fucking night.”

“Since when do you sleep at night?” I replied.

“....fuck you! What do you want?”

“Got an unexpected haul,” I said, glancing at my passengers through the rear-view mirror, “can you meet me at the usual place?”

“Why are you being so fucking cryptic? Do you mean the farm?”

“Cause I got extra ears in here,” I said, “but yeah, the farm.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll bring the coolers, call my contacts for any buyers…I’ll see ya in a couple hours.”

“Don’t be late, this haul won’t be fresh long,” I said.

“I know, I know,” my contact replied, before hanging up.

I rolled my eyes. Jack Garland was an annoying little sleazebag, but he was my best bet in finding buyers for mysteriously procured organs before they would expire for a transplant, and he usually handled all the boring stuff, so I only had to focus on preparing and removing organs while he would pay me when picking them up and I didn’t have to worry about anything else after. Well, anything related to a dead man’s organs at least.

I glanced through the rear-view mirror again, just about able to see the blond teen’s face, his eyes still squeezed shut. A turn had rolled Tracy’s lifeless body closer to him. A thought crossed my mind and I tried not to grin like a maniac too much as I spoke up again.

“You can open them now,” I said, already turning the radio up to drown out the inevitable muffled scream of horror, followed by the rattling from the chain as the teen futilely tried to put some distance between the corpse and himself. The fear…it was music to my ears. Almost better than my favourite jazz albums. Almost.

After about an hour, maybe an hour and a half of driving, I’d left the city behind me and cruised through a more rural area. The asphalt made way for dirt roads and street lights became a luxury rather than a necessity, because why would anyone drive here regardless, right?

I turned into a road that had a rusty and overgrown ‘dead end’ sign as it led towards private property. Some sort of farm that had been abandoned long ago since these weren’t exactly fertile grounds.

The house at the end of the overgrown driveway doomed up a bit suddenly in the darkness, my tires slipping a bit in the dirt as I pulled to a stop. Fortunately nobody got injured; nobody important at least.

Judging from the muffled grunt from the back, Erick had fallen over. And sure enough, when I got out and opened the side door, he was struggling frantically to sit back up, lying a little too close for comfort to Tracy’s motionless body. I shook my head a bit, pulling Tracy aside so I could undo the chain again, holding the loose end in one hand, while helping the teen climb over the corpse with the other.

“Easy,” I said, not bothering to catch him as he tripped and fell on the ground.

There was something satisfying about seeing him squirm with his face in the dirt, but I didn’t have time to admire the pathetic sight, so I pulled him to his feet and approached the dark building, snatching a flashlight from my bag as there wasn’t any power currently.

With the small light, I managed to find the key to the front door in it’s usual spot underneath a barren flower pot on the porch. I shared the property with a couple other associates of Allard. Or rather, Allard owned the property and let almost anyone use it.

I wasn’t too fond of the house, knowing what it was usually used for, but the shed had a very useful space. Still, since no one seemed to be using it now, it would be a good place to stay for the rest of the teen’s captivity. I pulled him inside, finding my way to the living room and pushing the teen onto the dusty couch.

“Sit,” I said, not giving him much of a choice.

Some dust flew up as the teen plopped down, coughing a bit behind his tape gag. I rolled my eyes and pulled it off, making sure it would sting.

“You stay right here,” I ordered, pulling out my pocket knife to cut his hands free, “I’ll see if I can turn the lights on in this place, and some other stuff. I won’t be gone for long.”

With that I revealed the D-ring bolted to the wall, which I padlocked the chain to. I gave him a last warning look, but he just took a few shaky breaths while rubbing his wrists.

I headed down into the basement to find the breaker box, swiping some spiders off before opening it. A quick look showed all the switches had been flipped off since this place was last used, so I slowly flipped them on, to which the lights flickered to life in most rooms.

Satisfied, I pocketed the flashlight and headed back upstairs, throwing a last look in Erick’s direction before heading outside. Now that the porch lights were working, I could see the shed a little further down on the land. Not wanting to drag Tracy that whole way, I parked my van closer, before entering the shed to check the storm shelter built underneath.

I opened the heavy hatch, needing my flashlight again to safely make my way down the rusty spiral staircase, the iron steps creaking ominously under my weight. At the bottom, I found the light switch on the wall, flicking it on. The fluorescent lights buzzed loudly before flickering to life as well, lighting up the surprisingly sterile space.

The floor was a little dusty and grimy, but the important surfaces and shelving were covered with plastic. It would have to do. I headed back to retrieve the corpse, pulling the plastic sheet off the table so I could lay him on it, before uncovering the cabinet with tools, finding a pair of shears and beginning to remove the man’s clothing.

Everything was exactly where I left it; knives, scalpels, clamps, forceps, you name it. Even the radio, still tuned to the correct station so it started playing as soon as I plugged it in. Smooth jazz echoed through the tiled bunker, along with the snap of the rubber gloves I pulled over my hands, before getting to work…

It was nice to work without any interruptions or distractions. So much so that I lost track of time a little. I didn’t realise it was that late until I checked my phone to see if the lungs and heart would still be viable — they weren’t. And I hadn’t seen or heard anything of Jack yet.

With a sigh, I covered the body with a paper sheet, heading back up the rusty spiral stairs. As soon as I stepped outside the shed, I could already spot Jack’s car. An old barrel with a ridiculous amount of bumper stickers. He’d probably gone inside the house. Where I’d left Erick. Alone. With Jack. In that cursed house.

“Oh he better not,” I grumbled to nobody in particular as I quickened my pace, listening for anything suspicious as I opened the front door and headed inside.

I recognised Jack’s voice, coming from the living room, so I tried to move quietly so I could catch part of their conversation.

“Come on, why would anyone leave you alone just like that~?” Jack asked.

“H-he said he wouldn’t be long…” Erick said, still sounding wary.

Good, so he didn’t trust Jack either. I stepped into the living room, seeing Erick standing in the opposite corner from the door, while Jack was standing by the couch. The chain was pulled taut because he was standing on it, preventing the teen from going too far away from him. Jack hadn’t noticed me, until Erick looked in my direction, paling several shades. The sleazebag turned, his grin making way for a less suspicious smile.

“Fetch! There you are. What are we looking at?” he glanced back at Erick.

“Not him,” I said, “I’d already started. Just give me a second.”

I walked over to Erick who seemed too scared and confused to really struggle as I unlocked the shackle around his ankle, though I grabbed a hold of his arm just to be sure.

“Why don’t you dust off the coffee machine while I get this one settled somewhere he can’t overhear us,” I said, ignoring Jack’s amused chuckle as I began to drag Erick towards the basement.

“D-did I do something wrong? S-sir!” the teen sputtered, stumbling down the stairs into the basement.

“No,” I said, looking around before finding some dusty coils of rope, “it’s just better if you know less— Stop squirming!”

I pushed him against the wall, roughly pulling his hands behind his back so I could latch them together with the old rope. It was rough, but it would only be temporary. He was already bruised on his wrists anyway.

“Now be quiet, I’ll give you some food after he leaves,” I said, helping him slide down so he could sit on the floor, “don’t move from that spot!” I added, as I hadn’t checked the basement for anything dangerous yet.

Couldn’t risk him escaping while I was in the bunker with Jack. After accepting an anxious ‘yes sir!’ I left the teen in the basement and headed back up, surprised to find Jack had actually made coffee. We carried our cups outside towards the shed and descended the spiral stairs down into the bunker.

“So, what’ve you got for me?” Jack asked, curiously looking over the body.

“Heart was useless,” I said, pulling the sheets off, “lungs won’t make a transport, kidneys and liver are decent, tissues maybe, can’t make any promises though.”

“And his blood type?” Jack asked.

“You’ll have to crack that one,” I said, “name’s Mike Tracy. Keira Thorne took him down for Allard.”

“Ah, I’m sure I can figure it out,” Jack said, “hang on I’ll grab my things so we can get started while the kidneys are still fresh~”

“What about my payment?” I asked.

“You get half now, the other half if we manage to sell these babies,” Jack said, “you know how it is.”

“Deal,” I said, grabbing a new pair of gloves while Jack headed back upstairs to grab his things from his car.

#villain's view #VV #writeblr #whumpblr #whump writing #oc whump #cafekitsune #<-banner credit

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randomshyperson · 2 years ago

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New Romantics - Chapter Four - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 6.843k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Chapter Four - About Lunches, Equations, and True Feelings

Downtown, Sunday 10:25 am

America Chavez's smiling face greeted you as soon as you stumbled into the kitchen.

"Good morning?" Your response was confused, but soon you yawned, and pushed sleep away, your brain slowly waking up. Neither America nor the girls drinking coffee cared much, knowing you were slow in the morning. Nat smiled, handing you a mug of coffee she just poured before grabbing another for herself.

"America ran out of eggs. And bacon, and coffee." Yelena teased, messing up the girl's hair beside her. You chuckled, scratching your eyes.

"Children aren't allowed to drink coffee." You commented, earning a roll of the eyes from the smaller girl.

"I'm already 14!" She defended herself, making you all laugh. You imitated Yelena's gesture, before going to the fridge to get some jam.

Breakfast was quiet for a few minutes. Yelena left first, saying that she was going to her girlfriend's house, and when you finished commenting about going to the capital to buy paint, America asked to come with you.

You raise an eyebrow at her. "It's kind of boring, kiddo, I'll spend some time picking out the right color."

She shrugged. "Please, I don't mind." She commented. "Kamala went to the mosque and Bruno has today's shift. I'm so bored. Please? We can go to the city park afterward too."

You chuckled, exchanging a quick glance with Natasha who was practically begging you to accept. Not that you had the heart not to do it anyway. You both knew that alone at home, America missed her mothers more and had a tendency to get into trouble.

"Okay, kiddo, I'll take you." You say, receiving the girl's celebration with a smile. "But you promise to behave, okay?"

"Scout's Promise!" She assures by raising her fingers at chest height. Natasha laughs.

"You were never a Girl Scout, Chavez." She retorts, but America shrugs her shoulders.

"Irrelevant." She mutters, making you laugh.

Many minutes later, when you have finished the coffee dishes, and have taken a quick shower to accompany America downtown, Natasha brings a small shopping list and some notes for you.

"Will you get those things for me, please?" She asks, and you read the list quickly, smiling at the extra amount of macaroni.

"Of course, Nat. Doesn't Yelena want anything?"

"I'll text you if she says something." Assures the redhead and you nod, offering a wink in farewell before grabbing a jeans jacket hanging next to the door and heading out.

Novi Grad, Sunday 11:15 am

The shopping cart America was pushing was partially full, and she was trying to balance on the wheels while you sorted potatoes and tried to remember Natasha's list mentally.

Finishing with the potatoes, you put them in the cart and were going after the macaroni when someone called your name - a voice that warmed your cheeks all at once.

"Wanda, hi." You greeted in surprise, a little more shy than usual at seeing the girl so casual and comfortable in a place other than school or a party. Wanda just smiled, shifting the weight of her feet.

"Hi, Y/N. Cool to bump into you. How are you doing?"

But you didn't get a chance to mumble more than 'Good'; America gave you a gentle nudge, looking at the brunette curiously.

"Sorry, this is my neighbor, America-"

"Hey, it's the girl from your painting, Y/N! Wow, she's even prettier in person." Declared the teenager genuinely excited.

You didn't know whether to kill America or dig a hole in the ground.

Wanda laughed confused. "Painting?" She retorted, raising a provocative eyebrow at you.

With your face burning, you scratched at the back of your neck. "It's no big deal. I just paint sometimes. You know, whatever I think is pretty..." You murmur, and Wanda gives a shy little laugh, looking at you in a way that doesn't help the butterflies in your stomach calm down. "I could show you sometime if you want."

"I'd love to." She grins and looks as if she wants to say something more, but an older man approaches, and his elegant coat makes you tuck in your worn jacket slightly. But his gaze is as gentle as Wanda's.

"Honey, I picked up the cheese for the Käsespätzle." He says placing the item in their cart before smiling at you and America. "Hi. Are you friends of Wanda's from school?"

"Yes, papa. That's Y/N, from my literature class. And her neighbor, America." Wanda introduces you both, and you nod half-heartedly at meeting Wanda's father so suddenly.

"It's a pleasure, I'm Erik." He greets. "I try to meet all my kids' friends, you two must be new. Maybe we could have lunch like today with them sometime, darling."

Wanda looks a little uncomfortable suddenly - She notices the way curiosity grows on your face. Lunch with whom?

"Sure, papa, I'll take care of it. Have you got everything? Can you wait in line for me?"

Erik doesn't insist, taking his daughter's hint, and waves goodbye. You clear your throat, ready to say goodbye, but Wanda is clarifying with a look studying your face.

"Vision is meeting dad today." She says and you force a smile, it's almost painful, so you look away to the floor.

"Cool." You mumble. "Well, I shouldn't keep you, right? I hope everything works out at lunch, Wanda. See you at school."

You've already turned and pushed the cart away when she mutters back, waving to the confused America who hurriedly follows you.

"What is Vision? Some kind of slang between you guys?" America asks as soon as you are alone, and you giggle helplessly despite the bitter feeling in your chest.

"It's her boyfriend."

The girl grimaces. "You like a girl who has a boyfriend?"

It's your turn to frown. "What? Who says I like her?"

"Your face."

You look away indignantly. "I don't know what you're talking about." You mutter stubbornly. "Besides, how did you know about the painting? Are you snooping around my gallery again?"

America rolls her eyes. "No, snooping is a strong word. I had a look while you were in the shower. Nat said you wouldn't mind."

"I don't, but you also didn't have to tell Wanda that I had been painting her." You insist embarrassed, and America giggles.

"Sorry I snitched on you, stalker." She teases, quickly escaping the pinch you try to give her ribs with a giggle. "Don't get so grumpy, she seemed to like hearing that you paint her. It's like Jack and Rose from Titanic, right?"

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "How do you even know that reference, you weren't even a fetus when that movie came out."

"Shut up." America retorted laughing, walking you to the macaroon aisle.

Downtown, Sunday 14:21 am

Your morning with America was almost pleasant enough for you to forget the encounter with Wanda. Almost.

As soon as the smaller girl left your apartment after lunch for how she so politely invited herself - you and Nat didn't mind - your friend took advantage of the moment you were in the living room tidying up some of the mess to comment on how strangely down you'd been since returning from the market.

"What's got you so glum, lyubimyy?" Nat asked gathering some magazines to help you. You smile at the nickname.

"Let me think about this one, does it mean... beloved?" You try, but she shakes her head.

"Almost. It means 'Darling' as love one because sometimes you forget how loved you are."

You blush. "Wow, aren't you so sweet today, huh? Come here, Nat." You hug her quickly, making her laugh. You kiss the top of her head before pulling away, but she holds your forearm, looking at you curiously.

"So? What happened?"

You sigh. "I bumped into Wanda at the market."

Nat frowns softly in confusion. "And that's a bad thing?"

You give a sad smile. "Not usually, I adore her. But she told me her boyfriend is meeting her dad today, and I know it's silly to be upset about that when we've never been anything more than friends but that's how I felt immediately upon hearing it. I don't know, maybe this idea of being friends with her was stupid. I'm definitely catching feelings, and worst of all, for a girl who's already taken."

Natasha twitches her nose. "I'm sorry, but I...okay, I'll be honest with you. I think she has to break up with that jerk. And give you a chance."

You chuckle weakly, shrugging. "I try not to get my hopes up, or it'll hurt more." You mutter, turning away to go back to tidying up the room.

Nat hesitates for a moment, and then comments, "I have a little mischief to confess." She says, and you look at her with confusion. "At the game on Friday. I may have made it sound like I had no idea how you managed to convince Jean to split the sales with us."

You chuckle confusedly. "But you know, she needed help with the artwork for the mid-year party..."

"Yeah, but Wanda didn't know I knew that." Natasha continues shifting the weight of her feet. "And when I suggested that maybe something was going on between you and Jean, she seemed pretty bothered."

You gasp nervously. "What? Nat, no!" you exclaim, but the redhead twiddles her fingers anxiously.

"Sorry, but I wanted to confirm if she likes you, and I really think she does, Y/N! Not considering the lovesick puppy-dog looks, she was quite uncomfortable at the mention of Jean-"

"It's not about me!" You quickly clarify. "They have some kind of feud, Nat. I don't know what happened. When I first met Wanda, Jean was treating her badly. And now you've made it seem like I don't care about that, which isn't true."

"Oh, I didn't know..."

"Yeah, I know." You sigh in defeat and annoyance, tossing your hair back.

Nat takes a hesitant step in front of you. "Hey, Y/N, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, you didn't know. I just need a moment, okay? And please stop meddling. I'll handle this on my own." You tell her, not meeting her gaze before marching out of the room.

Novi Grad, Monday 08:45 am

“The Politics Club invites you all to the Debate Contest in the auditorium at 3:30 pm”

You lay your head on the open Geography book with the announcement of your classmate Tony Stark, so often confident about the smallest things. He had a gold brooch with the club symbol on his backpack, and although he was in your class, he didn't stay in the room. He was responsible for announcing the invitation to all the others classes and left right away.

The professor went back to the lesson, but you were strangely bitter today. Everything seemed to remind you of Wanda and her stupid boyfriend. The golden boy from the political club, with his golden brooch and his bank account full of dollars.

Vision walked past you with a group of friends in the hallway, one of them so rudely bumped into your shoulder, muttering an apology with more contempt than anything else. You didn't mind, moving on to your next class with a tired sigh. Just a few more hours and you would be back home.

Whatever idiotic debate the staff would be having today was not in your interest at all. But Wanda sent you a meme - Casual cell phone conversations between you have become more common and frequent since the H incent - and then commented that she wish she had an excuse to skip the debate.

You stupidly offered to keep her company.

"Please kill me." That's what you said to Natasha as soon as you found her in the Chemistry lab. The redhead laughed confused.

"What did you do?" and when you told her, she laughed again, but hugged you, stroking your hair. "My poor friend, a complete gay disaster."

You chuckled weakly, wishing you could run away from school. The chemistry teacher walked in next, and you had to split up. You didn't absorb much of the lesson because you were wondering how to make things not awkward with Wanda in the auditorium watching her boyfriend.

Novi Grad, Monday 03:35 pm

The auditorium was not at all full - the School shared your lack of interest in the Politics club - and this unfortunately made it possible for you to see Wanda and Vision clearly. The way he grabbed her waist, practically kissing her by force, and how the girl almost shoved his shoulders before giving in.

Your stomach dropped, and you wanted to leave the auditorium, but as fast as the moment happened, it ended. Wanda retorted something almost angry to her boyfriend - you could tell by her expression - and turned away, her face lighting up the moment she met your gaze. She waved, and you forced a smile, nodding your head to the seat you were going to take in the last row.

She didn't even say goodbye to Vision before she started walking toward you.

The debate looked like it was going to start soon; the crowd was getting organized. You were busier greeting the girl who came to sit next to you.

"Thank you so much for being here, I don't think I could have handled this alone." She says, looking at you in such a grateful and tender way that you can only shyly chuckle.

"Debates can't be that bad, right? Worst case scenario, we'll sneak out." You tell her, making her smile.

In fact, debates could be very tedious. The topic was interesting, but the kids were annoyingly arrogant.

Wanda managed to make you laugh with a few sarcastic jokes whispered, but you were too nervous about the proximity to really relax.

When it was Vision's turn to participate, the girl next to you became strangely tense and impatient. The jokes stopped, but her indignant sighs did not.

You absorbed little of the speeches, but the bit you picked up surprised you.

"I didn't know Vision was so... progressive." You mutter half uncertainly, stealing glances at the girl next to you. "You don't agree with him?"

She chuckled wryly, her attention on the stage. "I agree with the speech, but not with him." She says, looking at you then. "Vision is nothing like what he gives speeches about. He's just a great politician. He has learned to say exactly what Professor T'Challa wants to hear, or what the audience wants. He always gets the best grades, does the best papers, not because he believes what he's saying, but because he's saying what those who are evaluating him do."

You look at the panel of jurors, all gleaming-eyed and nodding in agreement to the short progressive, anti-capitalist monologues of the tall kid who has on a pair of fancy clothes that must cost more than six months of your rent.

"That's kind of sick, don't you think?" You let it slip, and immediately regret it as you remember who you are talking about. And when Wanda looks away, you quickly mutter, "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

She chuckles weakly. "You shouldn't apologize for what you think or feel. Isn't that what you say?" she teases, looking at you.

"Yeah, we can always be honest with each other." You retort, returning the intense look she is offering you.

Maybe it's the darkness of the last row or your artistic inclination, but you could paint Wanda right now - how absurdly beautiful she looks, the way the green of her pupils darkens as she stares at you, how she seems to lean-

Wait what?

You pull back, clearing your throat and shaking your head, aware of the burning in your cheeks. The auditorium light was turned on again, which snapped you back to sanity and made you pull away. Wanda sighs deeply beside you, closing her eyes for a moment and you don't have the courage to look at her.

"I have to..." She mutters half hoarsely, about the end of the event and how Vision is coming down from the stage being congratulated and probably wishes his girlfriend was one of those people.

You nod, swallowing dryly. And you risk looking into her eyes again. She hesitates before bringing a hand to your cheek, and just like Friday, she reaches up and kisses your skin, this time too close to your mouth, enough for your breath to catch.

Your hand squeezes the hold of the chair firmly, and your eyes close instinctively, and you use all the control in your body not to turn your face to her and end this urge all at once.

It all lasts less than two seconds, yet even when you have left the auditorium, you can still feel Wanda's lips on your skin, her floral scent or her hand on your cheek, or hear her 'thank you for being here' hoarse and affected in your ear.

You can't tell if you enjoyed the debate, but it sure meant something for both of you.

Novi Grad, Tuesday 10:28 am

The classroom was quite hectic with the delivery of the revised assignments, and Frigga had a good time with the jokes and begging about a higher grade from some pairs.

The paper with the A+ drawn at the top made you and Wanda exchange smiles. Wanda let no reaction show for you having adjusted closer, one arm behind her chair as you teased:

"Looks like we make quite a pair." You were smiling and also didn't let on how much your heart had sped up when she chuckled in return, turning her face toward you and increasing the closeness even more.

"Looks like it." She retorted. "Any chance you could be my double in all subjects? I'm in need of some A's."

It was a joke, but you really loved the suggestion. Your expression was one of a new idea and Wanda smiled curiously. "How about you come over to the house and study?"

Terrible idea, honestly. Especially since if Frigga hadn't interrupted the moment by asking the class for silence, you're fairly certain you would have leaned over and kissed Wanda and her pretty face. The chances of you not trying to do that alone with her in your room were almost non-existent.

But as soon as Frigga was distracted again, she smiled at you.

"I love the idea, how about today after school? If you can of course." Wanda asked lowly, a shy smile playing on her lips.

You figured telling her you were available for her any time of the day was going to sound pretty desperate, so you just mumbled that it sounded perfect. You two did a poor job of hiding your excitement for the rest of the day. Which it was exactly why Natasha, Yelena, Kate, and Carol invited themselves to the study session after neither you nor Wanda shut up about it.

Downtown, Tuesday 03:45 pm

You entered your apartment last, giggling about some Danvers joke and struggling to get your jackets and shoes off in the tight space in the doorway with all the girls.

If you had a mini seizure when Wanda put a hand on your waist when she lost her balance trying to take off her boots, you didn't show anything so that the other girls wouldn't notice.

The afternoon passed very pleasantly between you all. You sat down at the kitchen table before giving up because of the cramped space and you and Nat pushed the sofas aside so that you could all sit on cushions on the floor, books, and notebooks scattered around.

The girls seemed to be doing well in their study session, but you noticed Wanda scribbling down other questions for the tenth time in less than five minutes. Natasha noticed it too, but it was because she was checking how you both tried to pretend you weren't more focused on each other than on the homework.

"Everything okay there Maximoff?" Asked the redhead before you had the courage. Wanda sighed in defeat.

"Nie (no), I suck at physics." She mutters looking down. Natasha smiles.

"Well, lucky for you I don't." She jokes, pulling out Wanda's notebook to take a look at the exercises. You offer the brunette a quick look of reassurance, and after Nat murmurs to herself for a few minutes, she hands the notebook back to the smaller girl. "See, you're switching the order of the equation. I wrote it up here for you to remember, but you'll need to memorize it for the tests."

Wanda gives a sad laugh. "Thanks, but I doubt I'll remember that many numbers and letters together."

Natasha assumes a thoughtful expression, but it is you who speaks first. "Wanda, tell me something you like."

She chuckles confusedly, but replies, " Hmm… Poetry?"

You smile, tilting your head. "Lovely, but I can't work with this one. Tell me something about music."

She twitches her nose in a cute, pensive way for a few moments. "I like a little bit of everything, but I listen to rock and metal most often. I really like Acid rock to relax, and I learned to play bass just to be able to perform like it."

You let out an excited exclamation. "Now that's good news!" You declare standing up. Natasha, who already understands your idea, giggles at the confusion and curiosity of the others. You leave the room and return with Yelena's guitar, who lets out a soft complaint. "Don't be selfish, Belova, I borrowed it for a good cause. Let's help Wanda study."

"I don't get it." Kate comments, and you approach Maximoff to hand her the guitar.

"It's pretty simple." You say. "Wanda, you can play it right? You just need to find a melody and memorize the equations as if they were notes or song lyrics. Let's try."

It took at least forty minutes to come up with something really innovative, but it was working.

Wanda managed to finish a whole page of exercises without consulting, just by muttering the melody to herself. You didn't leave her side, and nobody commented on the exchange of smiles every time she got something right, or when you switched the topic and she kissed your cheek in thanks for the idea.

Downtown, Tuesday 06:10 pm

After studying for so long, Kate and Yelena simply put down their books and stood up hand in hand with the sincere justification of "we're gonna make out" that made Natasha throw a pillow in her sister's face, and you, Wanda, and Carol burst out laughing.

But the study session didn't last long after this. Carol grew bored, insisting that she was starving, and you and Wanda were quite distracted by the proximity.

Natasha had a teasing little smile when she declared that she was going to get some beers and hamburgers to eat. Carol's celebration turned into a confused exclamation when she was pulled by the hand.

"Do you think I'm your maid, Danvers? I'm going to buy your food, the least you should do is drive me there."

"But they will also eat..." The blonde tried, but Nat ignored her completely, pushing her out of the room.

Alone with Wanda, you almost hyperventilated at the way she used the excuse that she was adjusting herself on the rug to rest her hand on your thigh.

You gasped with fright, and jumped away, startling the girl slightly. But you just offered her a half-hearted laugh, grabbing the guitar.

"I-I should give this back to Lena. Before I scratch it." You declared, running away before Wanda had a chance to remind you what Yelena was doing in her room.

You walked in without knocking - Mistake number one.

You walked in with your eyes open - Mistake number two.

Kate closed her legs so hard she nearly broke her girlfriend's neck - You stumbled backward in horror, covering your face with your hands and dropping your guitar on your own foot, which hurt you as hell before it bounced and fell to the floor.

Your apology turned into a grunt of pain, and you limped out of the room while Yelena complained about privacy and the instrument.

Wanda stood up in confusion and was pressing her lips together to keep from bursting into laughter.

You sat down in the first armchair you could reach, massaging your thumb with a crying face. "I need an ambulance." You dramatized, and Wanda started laughing.

Yelena left the room angrily half a minute later, her hair messed up and her clothes too. She raised her guitar in the air at you.

"Look what you've done! I told you to be careful, Y/N!" She accused over the scratch marks in the paint from the fall.

"Yelena I am dying, look how red my finger is."

"I don't care about your foot! You know it was my father who sent this guitar from Russia to me, it's autographed by Don McLean and now it's scratched and-"

"I can fix it." Wanda steps forward, twiddling her fingers. "Pietro used to scratch my instruments all the time. If you have the tools, maybe some paint, I can help."

"Oh, I must have something like that in the studio." You mutter giving your thumb one last squeeze. Yelena hesitates, but then sighs, handing the guitar to Wanda before turning her face to you and pointing a finger in warning.

"Next time, knock on the door, suka." She retorts before making her way to her bedroom.

You and Wanda exchange small giggles when you are alone again.

Downtown, Tuesday 06:55 pm

Wanda sat for a good few minutes at the wooden table, working on repairing Yelena's guitar with the tools you got for her. You had the paints, but you had to go to America to borrow the small tools, and she also didn't miss the opportunity to tease you about the 'pretty girl from the supermarket who had a ‘boyfriend'. You threatened to call her mothers.

Your only distraction for the next few minutes was drawing. You brought out your notebook with the excuse that you were going to continue studying, but having Wanda in your studio, working with her hands drew your attention completely. Your history notebook now had three pages filled with doodles of the girl in front of you.

When she began to play, you knew she was done.

"Do you have any requests?" She asked with her back to you, sitting in her chair. You smiled, readying your pencil as she adjusted herself to be with her body facing your direction.

"Assuming your song repertoire consists almost one hundred percent of Evanescence, I'd say play something that makes you happy." Your teasingly affectionate response makes her laugh. She tests a few notes, thoughtful for a moment.

"Actually, whenever I need to cheer myself up a bit, I listen to something quite different." She murmurs, and you raise a curious eyebrow.

"Oh, really? Surprise me, Maximoff."

She chuckles and adjusts herself. You had some expectations, but you didn't anticipate Justin Bieber. You start laughing immediately, and Wanda has a hard time controlling her own laughter and keeps singing 'Baby'.

"Stop it, you're distracting me." She retorts between giggles, trying to continue the notes.

You laugh. "God, Wanda, that's so cheesy, I love it." You say, catching the way her cheeks blush.

She finishes 'Baby' and also plays a bit of 'As Long as you Love Me', the last of which she struggles a bit to remember the notes correctly.

Meanwhile, you draw her. Discourteously, so Wanda blames you for the difficulty in playing with the attention. When you have a decent doodle of the figure with the guitar and you are finishing the rings, she stops playing.

"Can I see it?" She asks, and you smile.

"Sure, want to switch?" You retort about the guitar, and she laughs lightly.

"Can you play?"

You shrug. "Not as well as you, I'm afraid. And most of the songs I know are Brazilian, but I think I can do a decent job with Jason Mraz." You reply, leaning over to hand her the notebook and pick up the guitar. Wanda smiles.

"Play me something Brazilian."

You hold up the guitar, a smile playing on your lips. "But you don't speak Portuguese."

"It doesn't matter. I just like your voice."

You chuckle shyly, sliding your fingers over the strings. "That's because you haven't heard me sing yet." You joke, making her giggle.

Wanda pays close attention to the beginning of the notes but has no idea what you are singing. You let the words of 'Dengo' by a singing duo slide off your tongue, carrying their meaning in your heart even though the girl in front of you didn't know it.

In the second verse, Wanda diverts her attention to the notebook in her hands because you are looking at the guitar, trying not to miss the notes. You smile as you turn your attention back to her, still singing quietly while she looks at the drawings.

You change the song next, and were halfway through 'Idiota' by Jão when Wanda interrupts you.

"My rings were the only things you painted with the pencil." She comments, sliding her finger across one of the drawings. You finish a note and she lifts her face to you, a small smile on her lips. "You like them?"

You smile back, nodding your head. "They're pretty, and you wear them all the time. It's hard not to pay special attention to it."

She looks at you in an intense way, before turning her attention back to the notebook, but it's only to close it and put it back on the table. "You can have one." She declares, getting up and you look at her in surprise.

"You don't have to, Wanda, they're yours..."

"Don't be silly, I want you to have it." She insists, standing in front of you. "Choose the one you like best." She asks, extending her hands at guitar height.

You don't think much about it, a little nervous at the sudden closeness, and end up choosing a yellow one. She gives a mischievous giggle. "What is it? Did I make the wrong choice?"

She smiles, denying with her head and retracting her hands to remove the ring. "I got those six in a witch's tent."

You raise your eyebrow. "A real one?

She laughs. "That I can neither affirm nor deny." She teases, sliding the yellow-looking ring out. "But she told me that each stone is an aspect of existence."

"What a philosophical witch." You half-heartedly joke, trying not to focus so much on the girl's gesture. Wanda laughs. "What does the golden one represent?

"The mind." She retorts. "And I find it a coincidence since you are helping me study and are my partner in literature."

You smile, nodding in agreement. You extend your hand but Wanda holds it out instead of handing over the ring.

"May I?" She asks in a whisper about putting the ring on, and you swallow dryly before agreeing, feeling your face burn over her gaze and with each movement. Once the ring is secure on your finger, she has a mischievous smile on her lips. "Does that mean you accept marrying me?"

It is clearly a joke, but it makes you look at her in such an adoring way that Wanda wishes she had said it for real.

You give her an affected laugh. "You have to take me on a date first."

Wanda pant softly, and is leaning in before you can think about it. You startle, and your free hand tightens on the strings, the sound breaking her trance and making her come to her senses. Her forehead falls on yours, and she takes a deep breath before pulling away.

"I should go, it’s late." She declares taking steps away. You swallow dryly, placing the guitar on the couch and getting up as well.

"Wanda, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

She shakes her head, hugging her body and moving further away. But at that, she catches a glimpse of the half-hidden painting across the room. Your apology is interrupted by her surprised exclamation, and she is stepping away to see the painting up close.

"Is that...?" She doesn't need verbal confirmation. She pulls the cloth covering the painting and exposes the finished painting to the gallery. You hesitate, cringing in anticipation of the evaluation. "Y/N, that looks lovely."

You laugh shyly. "Thank you, Wanda." But she doesn't look at you, her gaze focused on the painting.

"You paint me like... I'm beautiful."

With a confused laugh, you retort, "You are beautiful."

But she shakes her head. "I mean... with love. You paint me as you look at me-"

"Wanda." You interrupt with hesitation, heart racing.

But she turns to you tears in her eyes, and you swallow dry. She smiles, "You paint me as someone in love. It's as if I can feel your adoration in every brushstroke."

It is your turn to embrace your own body, trying to hide your own vulnerability. Wanda steps forward, excited, but you step back.

"Don't mock me." You say, and she frowns.

"I wasn't." She assures you seriously. "I liked the painting, I liked it as much as I-"

"I'm not talking about the painting." You interrupt her upset. "Don't talk about my... feelings. Not when you still have a boyfriend."

Wanda gasps softly, her eyes wide in your direction. For a moment, she looks completely unresponsive at the return of this fact, but then you sidestep her to cover the frame and she reacts.

"Do you want me to leave him?" it is small, whispered more like a secret. You freeze before taking a deep breath.

"What the hell are you talking about, Wanda? Didn't you just have him introduce to your father the other day?"

She shakes her head. "He never showed up, made up some dumb excuse as usual. And I get the impression... well, I have no proof, but I think he's cheating on me. So, maybe, I just need a reason."

She invades your personal space, supplicant, but you gasp as you pull away again. "Jesus, Wanda, isn't all this enough of a reason for you?" you accuse worriedly, aware of the tears in both of your eyes. "I can't make that decision for you. I can't make any decision for you."

"Why not?" She retorts. "Vision does, and before him, Dad and Pietro." She confesses tearfully, reaching up again to grab the collar of your shirt. "Tell me to leave him. Tell me to be with you instead." She pleads, near your face.

"No."

She sobs, not resisting the gentle tug you give her to let you go. But you sigh and bring your hands to her cheeks. "Don't be kind, I don't deserve it."

"Kindness is all you deserve, sweet girl." You insist, wiping away her tears. "But the decision of whom to love has to be entirely yours, Wanda. I'm sorry."

"I don't know how to leave him." She confesses tearfully, drawing the air from your lungs. "What I did to have him... I don't...it's not fair that it was for nothing. I don't know how-"

"Wanda, hey, breathe." You try to calm her, letting her cry against your neck as you stroke her hair. "It's okay, we'll figure it out together okay?"

"You don't understand." She mumbled between one sob and another, and you silenced her gently, holding her closer.

"It's okay, you can explain it to me." You murmur, and she hugs you tighter.

It took her a few more minutes to calm down, but once she did, you moved the guitar out of the way to sit with her on the couch, hand in hand.

"Talk to me." You asked gently, caressing her skin. Wanda swallowed dryly and didn't meet your gaze as she began to tell.

"My history with Vision doesn't even begin with him exactly. When my mother died, we moved in the middle of the year to Novi Grad. I was in fourth grade, and I didn't know anyone here, and I barely spoke English, since almost everyone speaks only Sokovian in the north. But when I started school, Jean Grey welcomed me into her group without hesitation. She was so nice. She used to come to my house every day after school to teach me how to speak English properly, and we grew so close that Dad once joked about adopting her." Wanda says with a sad laugh, "Then high school started, and our group of friends changed a bit. We still had Eve, and Anna, but some girls moved away. I met the Starks at our first party. Vision didn't even get to talk to me that first night, he was completely charmed by Eve. And I, well, I didn't mind just being his friend. But they started dating after that, and he became closer to us, started going to our parties, our houses." She continues, twiddling her fingers. "In the second year, we started meeting secretly."

Wanda searches your gaze with her confession, wanting to see your reaction to this but only finds curiosity about the story. The lack of judgment allows her to breathe lighter.

"Did you fall in love with him or was it just sex?" You find yourself asking, and she gives a sad laugh.

"I wouldn't have hurt Eve over sex." She assures you. "I fell in love with him, truly. He was my first love, and I thought if I didn't have him, it would be the end of the world. And when she found out, it really was." She retorts sniffling. "They all turned their backs on me, but Jean was the one who got the angriest. She attacked me about everything she did for me, and started making my life a living hell, tormenting me daily at school. Until things got physical in the yard and guidance needed to intervene."

"God, Wanda."

"It's okay, I didn't hold a grudge about it." She assures only worrying you more. "She was right to be angry, I fucked up. She left me alone after that, the school didn't, at least not for a few months. Then everyone moved on to the next rumor." She continues. "With the new year, I thought maybe Jean could put all that behind her too and forgive me. But you saw how she treated me when I tried to approach her at that party."

You let go of her hand, and Wanda feels her stomach sink. But all the color returns to her face when your hand comes up to caress her cheek. "You were what, Wanda? Fifteen years old? And Jean is acting like you murdered the pope. Stop defending the way she is treating you, that girl has some serious problem that has nothing to do with you. Same for your asshole boyfriend."

She breaks into a nasal laugh, leaning into your touch. "I shouldn't have cheated on my friends."

"You didn't." You insist. "You just fell in love, and you made a mistake. The only person who cheated was the one who was committed when he hooked up with you."

"B-but Vision-"

"I don't care what manipulation bullshit he told you." You interrupt seriously. "He definitely took advantage of your feelings, enjoying himself so he could have two girls and be able to brag to his friends. He's quite the type. You have to learn to forgive yourself for all of this."

Wanda sighs in some relief, moving closer to rest her forehead on yours. You smile, and instead of closing the distance, you widen it.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know. Neither are my feelings." You confess in a whisper. "I can wait until you put an end to the story with him, but I'll also still be here if you just want to put this behind the two of you and forgive him. I said your friendship was enough and I didn't lie about that."

She denies it with her head. "I don't want to be your friend." She assures in a whisper, her eyes darkening like in the auditorium that day. "I really want to kiss you."

She must be about to do it, really, with the way she sighs heavily against your lips, but someone clears their throat behind you, and you two break apart with a jump.

Yelena has a mischievous little smile on her lips, arms crossed. "God, karma works fast..." She teases, and you offer her an angry expression, grabbing one of the pillows to hit her while Wanda grunts in displeasure and hides her face between her hands. Yelena laughs as she deflects the item, running to grab the guitar from the couch. "Don't hate me, I knocked!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Just like you!"

Wanda laughed as you ran out after Yelena in a rage.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #new romantics #elizabeth olsen x reader #skamverse collection #alt er love series

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sillystappen · 2 months ago

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Come On Over And Ruin My Life aka The one where I write chemaxiel. That's it. That's the fic. Word Count: 5175. Read on AO3 here!

There are several instances where Checo has wondered what his life has come to. For example, when he won in 2020 for the first time after 190 races, when he became a Red Bull driver, when he won in Monaco last year, and quite depressingly now, as he watches Max and Daniel flirt with each other.

Don't get Checo wrong he isn't jealous, he just feels a little left out, like he's a constant third wheel now that Daniel has rejoined Red Bull. It's kind of an open secret in the paddock that those two are dating, and have been since 2019, though Max has mentioned that they were hooking up since a certain crash the year prior. And Checo gets it, they click well and look really good together, especially when they laugh. So no, he is not jealous of their relationship.

The feeling of being left out does confuse him though. He had thought about it in the privacy of his hotel room after a day of recording and has come to the conclusion that he doesn't want neither Daniel nor Max to be less themselves, but he wants to be included in it. This then throws him through another loop because he ends up imagining all three of them laughing at something or being huddled together in some corner of the paddock as they gossip about whatever stupid strategy Ferrari tried that day. An even scarier thought is the picture his mind paints of the three of them cuddled onto one sofa watching some bullshit telenovela with English captions, Daniel's head in his lap and Max leaning into his side.

He can't, no he won't, dwell on it. He refuses to. He's friends, teammates, with them. He's not looking to insert himself into their relationship. He just wants to feel a tiny bit more included when they have to do media events or are at the factory. He doesn't need to be taken to their dates only to be walking behind them on the pavement.

Besides, are 3 people relationships even a thing? Can you even want more than 1 person at the same time? Is that allowed? He has no problem with being queer (he is bisexual after all) but falling for two men simultaneously has Checo all sorts of extra confused.

"Checo!" Max shakes him out of his thoughts, "wanna grab dinner after the race with Daniel and I?"

Checo shakes his head, "I don't wanna intrude, it's okay. I have things I could be doing anyway." He really doesn't want to see Daniel and Max share inside jokes the whole night while he pokes at some overpriced pasta.

Max nods slowly, "ah... alright. Just- You know that- nevermind." Checo watches as Max leaves, Daniel latching onto his arm before he finishes turning the corner.

Checo sighs to himself. He really needs to sort himself out before this spirals...

And spiral it does. It has gotten to a point where Daniel and Max are in his dreams. His dreams! Checo is no blushing virgin either so he has woken up to several wet dreams where he has either been fucked by Max or had his cock sucked by Daniel, the other one always watching and running their hands along his body, providing another source of stimulation. Rather embarrassingly, he ends up rutting against the mattress or into his hand until he comes after he wakes up.

He walks into Red Bull's facilities trying not to think about it as Daniel slings an arm over his shoulder and starts talking about a bird he saw last night. Checo, drawn to the warmth of Daniel, can't find it in himself to move away. He listens and adds in the occasional "yeah?" to keep Daniel talking and giggles (?!) at some of the lame jokes he makes.

What's worse is that he doesn't let go when he spots Max, he just drags him over and only moves his arm so his fingers can play with Checo's curls on the back of his neck which has his cheeks turning every shade of red. Max doesn't seem to mind, and just continues chatting to them as if this is totally normal.

How? How can they be so relaxed about this and not... he doesn't know, jealous? annoyed? Daniel is being clingy with him and not his boyfriend! Shouldn't Max be glaring holes in to his skull by now?

And Checo? Checo is too selfish to push himself away. This is what he wants after all, to be included in their interactions and not be standing off to the side and it feels so good to be standing there, talking mindlessly with the two of them. When he talks he can feel the attention of both of them like they value and treasure every word. It's addicting to have the one thing he craved all season.

"Dan, look at him. He's turned in to a tomato," Max chuckles, noticing Checo's blush.

Daniel's fingers still as he looks over Checo's face, "oops! But Maxy, it's a lovely colour on him."

Max hums and smiles, "it goes well with his freckles."

Checo blinks, his brain not connecting to his mouth - unable to form any response. It's like he bluescreened under their attention. Oh God, he is failing miserably to be normal.

Daniel's phone pings. "Ah shucks, I have to leave. Media just can't get enough of this handsome face." He detaches himself from Checo, pecks Max on the lips as Max rolls his eyes fondly. Then, he takes Checo's hand, pressing his lips to the back of it before saying "later gentlemen," and jogging off.

Checo remains frozen in place, completely floored by the last 5 minutes. He waits to see if Max get's angry or annoyed by whatever happened but... nothing. Max just smiles at him, and wraps his hand gently around his wrist as he pulls him over to their garage.

Which... what the fuck?

"Aren't you mad?" he eventually gets out as they loiter around Max's car and look at datasheets.

Max turns around and tilts his head, "mad about what? The car is doing brilliantly and we're getting podiums and wins. What's there to be mad about?"

"I meant Daniel when he... y'know." Checo vaguely gestures to his hand.

"Oh, no." Max says before he goes back to what he was doing.

Checo furrows his brows, not understanding. He doesn't say anything else and goes over to his own car and try not to think about it.

Later, he sits with his lunch, picking at the crust of his sandwich while he thinks about Daniel and Max, who take up more and more of his thoughts. They're including him more, and have been over the last few weeks since Max invited him to dinner. This is all nice and he feels a lot better generally speaking. However, he can't seem to understand what Max and Daniel want from him. The goal was not to intrude on their relationship but they seem insistent on dragging him into it.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone and googles (in an incognito tab obviously) 'can 3 people be in one relationship?'

The answer pops up on his screen and Checo doesn't know what to think.

Polyamory, or consensual nonmonogamy, is the practice of having multiple intimate relationships, whether sexual or just romantic, with the full knowledge and consent of all parties involved. Polyamory is generally not gender-specific; anyone can have multiple partners of any gender.

So, yes, it totally is a thing. He could feasibly date both Max and Daniel without any of them cheating on each other. He continues scrolling, going through reddit and other sites of similar natures where people recount how they fell in love with multiple people at the same time and enjoy being romantically (and sexually) involved with more than one person at once. Some of the stories are really heart-warming actually. Could he have that?

He turns his phone off and bites the corner of his sandwich. Do Daniel and Max even want him? He thinks they do, but there's this lingering doubt that they couldn't possibly. After all, what are the chances that both of them like him too? They've been going strong for 4 years, why change that now?

"Checo," Max sits opposite him with his own food, "I've been looking for you."

"Where else would I be?" Checo replies rhetorically.

Max lets out an amused huff, "good point."

"So," he says after swallowing another bite of sandwich, "what did you wanna find me for?"

Max nods to himself and pushes his food to the side so he can lean forward a bit. "Look, I know the first time you said no so we decided to keep it more lowkey this time. Do you want to come and watch some trashy Netflix movie Daniel picks out in his hotel room tonight? Just us three, and probably some popcorn that will have our trainers annoyed at us. Totally chill, and neither of us will take offence if you say no but we do want you there and-"

"Yes."

"Huh?"

Checo clears his throat and looks directly at Max. "I said yes. I mean, I third wheel all the time but I enjoy hanging out with you guys." He picks up his tray and stands, "text me the time and room number, yeah?"

He barely catches Max's "okay," as he leaves. He makes it back to his driver's room and locks the door, leaning back against it as he sighs. Why on God's green earth did he say yes? He's just going to be sat on the edge of a sofa awkwardly with a bowl of popcorn as Max and Daniel cuddle up together.

However, he remembers the image his brain conjured of the three of them together, and the revelation that he most likely (read: definitely) has a crush on the both of them deludes him in to thinking that it won't be like that at all. That all of the recent interactions mean something. Please, let them mean something because Checo doesn't know what to do if it doesn't.

At 8pm that night, Checo is standing outside room 411 checking and double checking his phone to ensure that he has the right information. He knows Max didn't make a mistake, he's just nervous and has to force himself out of it so he can at least pretend to be somewhat normal. He's in his thirties for fucks sake and yet he's acting like he's a teenager who's experiencing his first crush.

Still, he knocks on the door. Daniel swings it open and looks absolutely thrilled to see him, which is nice.

"Checo! Glad you actually rocked up. Maxy was worrying you would bail."

"Hey no!" Max protests in the background.

Daniel doesn't pay any attention to him, "you look good! Now come in and sit your pretty ass on the sofa and pick a movie."

Checo nods, not trusting his mouth to not say something like 'would rather sit my pretty ass on you' because he is only here to be a friend. He plops on the sofa, noticing a folded blanket resting on one arm. He runs his fingers over the fabric, enjoying the soft feel of it when Max comes in.

Max plucks the TV remote from somewhere out of Checo's view and hands it to him, sitting to his left. "I don't have high standards just as long as it's something better than Daniel's 80s flicks. He claims that they're 'classics' even though they're really cringe."

"You say that as if you weren't humming grease lightning for a week." Daniel says, holding the biggest bowl of popcorn Checo has ever seen. Of course, Daniel notices his expression and shrugs, setting the popcorn down and sitting on Checo's right, "we do this often."

"I see..." Checo acknowledges. He starts flicking through Netflix, ignoring Daniel going "pick this!" and Max replying with "do not pick that."

It got tiring after a while and Checo had enough. "Both of you just stop talking right now. We're watching Lego Batman, end of discussion." There was no reason why Lego Batman was chosen other than it happened to be the one the remote cursor was on. Besides, both Max and Daniel seem satisfied.

The movie starts and Daniel almost immediately dives for the popcorn bowl. Max grabs the blanket and unfolds it, then throws one end over towards Daniel so it stretches across the three of them. The thing is, the sofa is not designed for three grown men, so everything is a tight fit. Meaning, Checo can feel Max's thigh against his own and Daniel's arm against his. It's so warm, but not stifling nor uncomfortable. It's warm in a way that he gets a swooping sensation in his stomach and the heat rises into his cheeks.

Daniel holds the bowl out to him and Max, and Max takes a handful, leaning closer to Checo in the process before easing up a little. They both seem so comfortable around him, which is good obviously, but he feels like he's in the middle of their relationship, physically too. Though, they don't say anything and just watch the movie quietly, shifting around occasionally (this is mostly Daniel) while Checo is internally screaming 'what do you want from me?'

Because this isn't third wheeling. No, rather he feels that he is equal with them. It feels like a date or some domestic scene that could easily happen in one of their apartments. And Checo cannot bring himself to melt into the moment or even enjoy the movie he picked as the dreaded question of 'what is this?' is on the tip of his tongue the whole time.

The movie itself is fun, and nice and just the right amount of simple where you didn't have to focus too hard to understand what is going on, which is good because Daniel drops his head on Checo's shoulder, pulling his end of the blanket up to the base of his neck.

"This ok?" Daniel whispers.

"Yeah..." is all Checo can think of saying. Daniel then settles and molds himself into Checo's side, one of his hands resting on his thigh. Checo can feel every point of contact like it burns through his clothes and onto his skin. He looks at Max expecting to see annoyance or hurt at the fact his boyfriend his being so cuddly and Checo isn't making any move to stop it, but Max looks fond, like the two of them being like this is - in his words - simply lovely.

Perhaps there is no harm in just taking this for granted. If he doesn't think about it too much, it is really nice to be hugged by Daniel. Checo slowly wraps his arm around Daniel's waist to hold him against his side and Daniel hums contentedly, pleased with the development.

'Just for now,' Checo thinks, 'then I have to do something about this.' Of course, Max choses that exact moment to shift and prop his legs on Checo's lap and lean his back over the arm of the sofa and close his eyes. Daniel feels Checo tense and rubs small circles into his thigh in an attempt to calm him. It works a bit but not enough to stop him from asking "what are we doing?"

"Chilling, cuddling, watching Batman," Max says, stating the obvious.

"No, no, that doesn't help, that's not-" Checo sighs, agitated, before pushing the blanket off him and standing, effectively shoving Max and Daniel off of him. He turns around to face them and takes in their confused expressions. Good, now they know how he feels.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asks, sitting up properly.

Checo laughs wryly, "what's wrong? What's wrong?! Mierda, I can't even begin to describe what the fuck is going on because I have no clue!" His voices raises in frustration but he can't bring himself to care, pacing and gesturing wildly as everything comes pouring out at once.

"I used to feel like such a third wheel with you two but then you started dragging me in to your relationship which is so weird? I initially just wanted to be your friend but this got me feeling all sorts of things that I shouldn't and you refuse to elaborate on it! You just do these things instead of communicating what it is you want from me and now I don't know where I stand or what I should do with you two. It makes me want to kick myself because despite all of that I've caught feelings for the both of you and can't bring myself to hate you at all for any of it. And now? Now you're looking at me as if I'm the one who doesn't make any sense. ¡No los entiendo a ustedes dos y me está destrozando! Y no puedo permitirme el lujo de ser algo en lo que estás interesado brevemente antes de pasar a la siguiente. ¡No seré una conexión para ustedes dos! Me merezco más que eso."

Checo breathes, re-centering himself after accidentally slipping back in to Spanish, before looking and Max and Daniel, who appear less confused and more guilty. "You have no right," Checo finishes in English, "to play with my feelings."

He doesn't waste much time after that and heads for the door, not bothering to hear them out.

Max gets up first. "Checo, wait-"

"Just... stop." He twists the doorhandle and leaves.

He doesn't go back to his hotel room. He can't bring himself to just lie in bed and wallow (and maybe cry). Besides, that would be the first place Max and Daniel look if they chase after him, and right now he doesn't want to see them.

He ends up leaving the hotel and wandering around until he finds a park and sits down on a bench, looking up at the night sky. He couldn't see any stars despite the lack of clouds. That really is just the cherry on top of this disaster cake.

"Checo?"

He lowers his gaze and looks around, the voice lacking a Dutch or Australian twang. He ends up locking eyes with Alex Albon.

"Alex? What are you doing here?" he asks.

Alex chuckles, "could ask you the same thing." He gestures to the empty spot on the bench, "can I?"

Checo nods and for a while neither of them say anything. Just two drivers sat in the middle of a park at night, totally normal. Though, as sarcastic as that sentiment may be, it is probably one of the most normal things that have happened in the past few weeks.

"Why are you here?" Alex says eventually. "Don't get me wrong, I am not judging your choices but something seems to be bothering you. If you want to share that, you can."

"It's... complicated."

"I can do complicated. Lily says that I'm a good listener. Might be nice to get it off your chest."

Checo looks at Alex and sighs, "where do I start? It's Max and Daniel."

"Oh boy. I am far to familiar with those two than I'd like to be."

"How so?"

Alex winces, as if the memory is slightly painful. "Of course, I was Max's teammate before you. I have caught them fucking on almost every surface in the garage and hospitalities."

"Even the car?"

"On multiple occasions," Alex grimaces. "Heck, I'm pretty sure I only saw half the story. I don't wanna know what the poor Renault staff have seen. Though, I suppose it's worse for you now that Daniel is back at the factory too."

"It's not that bad for me actually. I think someone had a word with them when Daniel resigned, though when Daniel was at McLaren I did hear them. But honestly," Checo admits, "that isn't even the problem. I think I'm the problem."

"How so?"

"I... fuck, I fell for them."

"Like, in love with both of them? At the same time?"

"Yes, exactly that."

Alex doesn't look too shocked, but still relatively surprised. His face then settles into a look of contemplation. "That must be tricky. I didn't even know you liked men."

"I'm bisexual. Anyway, these past few weeks have been weird because I like both of them and I can't tell what they want from me. They just suddenly tried to put me in their relationship or at least want to hook up or something and yet they make no move to explain any of it. They didn't even talk to me. They just are very... physical? I mean touchy, and also they have just invited me on their dates and... yeah."

Alex nods, processing it all, then says, "I assume something happened tonight?"

"I snapped," Checo admits before telling Alex every detail. Alex doesn't judge, just sits and listens. When Checo is done, it feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest and he can finally breathe again. It still stings though, but is less crushing and the relief of it all makes tears spring in his eyes.

"Oh mate," Alex says and slings an arm around Checo's shoulders, pulling him into his side. Checo relaxes into the comfort given. His shoulders sag, a few tears eventually falling and he just feels so, so tired.

They stay like that for a while before Alex says, "they're idiots, you know."

"Hmm?"

"Max and Daniel," Alex says. "They clearly do like you the way you like them but are trying to get together with you the same way they did, which is fucking stupid. They should've just talked with you properly, but you also need to not put yourself down as much. You're a great person and you deserve respect and clarity, so don't feel bad about snapping at them. They had it coming."

"Thank you," is all Checo can reply with, because Alex has really been an amazing friend tonight.

They end up hanging out for a while, turns out Alex just can't sleep and got bored, before Checo finds his way back to his hotel room. He collapses back in his bed absolutely exhausted and welcomes sleep easily.

The next day, with a formed plan in mind, Checo immediately walks up to both of them and simply tells them "room 443, after all this." He doesn't linger, and goes back to discussing strategies and car development with his engineers. He can feels their eyes on him throughout the day, and sometimes he stares back as if he's daring them to do something. They never do. Instead, they flush red, like they're a naughty kid having an extra cookie, and look in any and all directions par at Checo. It's kind of cute.

Not even 15 minutes after Checo makes it back to his hotel room, he hears a rapid knocking. He opens the door to see Max and Daniel. Daniel is pulling on the edges on his hoodie and Max is indiscreetly holding flowers behind his back.

"Come in," Checo says, careful to make voice even. He closes the door and Max hands him the flowers.

"We're-" Max starts.

"Thank you for these, they're very pretty." Checo interrupts before gently placing them down on a side table. "You two are now going to sit down and have one chance to explain everything. No arguments. Only then will I decide what happens next."

Max and Daniel sit down without complaint and Checo stands before them, hands on his hips as he waits for them to start.

They look at each other before Daniel speaks up, "we are so sorry for hurting you."

Max nods, "yeah, we are. We didn't intentionally mean to confuse you. We just wanted you."

Checo raises and eyebrow and looks between both of them, silently telling them to continue.

"It's gonna sound a bit crazy but we both want a relationship with you," Daniel continues, "Max and I still love each other, but we also really like you. We thought if we just slowly integrate you into our dynamic it won't be as weird?"

"Yeah, and do things like how me and Daniel originally got together," Max adds.

Holy shit, Alex hit the nail on the head. They do like him, and they were just being stupid about it.

"And we were a bit scared of asking you about it," Max finishes.

"Fuck, yeah, I mean what are the odds that not only do Max and I like you but that you also like both of us?" Daniel asks in a way that he tries to pass as a rhetoric joke but Checo can hear the sincerity in it. They don't think they're affections are returned, especially now they aren't in Checo's good books.

But, oh, how wrong they are. Checo's heart leaps now he knows that that they like him in all the same ways.

"Pretty high, probably at about 100%" Checo smiles at them.

Max's gaze snaps up from his lap and Daniel looks like Checo just told him the answer to life's biggest mystery.

"Now, I am still a little mad that you guys decided it was smarter to play with my feelings than just straight up tell me," Checo clarifies. Daniel and Max frown. "But," Checo continues, walking around and toward the bedroom, "I think there's a way you can make it up to me." He winks then chuckles upon seeing Max and Daniel quickly scramble towards him.

Checo sits in the middle of the bed, "come here and kiss me then I will forgive you."

Max doesn't waste much time, immediately going over to hold Checo's face and kiss him. Max kisses how he drives: determined and passionate. It makes Checo's body flush with warmth, especially when Max's tongue touches his lips. Checo opens them and softly gasps at the feeling of Max's tongue in his mouth. Eventually, he gently pushes Max off and beckons Daniel over.

Checo moves to sit in Daniel's lap and kiss him instead. Daniel kisses him with a lot more gentleness than Max, but with equal passion. He can feel Max watching them and hears him shift closer, putting his arms around Checo's chest and start kissing down the side his neck, sucking lightly where his neck meets his shoulder, causing Checo to moan into Daniel's mouth and shift his hips a little which earns him a soft groan in response.

The feeling of both of them on him, kissing, touching, loving, is just addictive. He wants more and can feel from where he’s sat on Daniel’s lap and how Max has slinked a hand under his shirt, running his fingers up his torso and down again, that they are all in the same boat on this.

"Can we..." Max says against his skin, fingers travelling down to slightly dip under his waistband.

Checo gets the message, disconnecting his lips from Daniels to reply with more desperation than he'd like to admit, "fuck me."

It takes a bit to figure out their dynamics and learn what everyone likes but it ends with Daniel's fingers up Checo's ass before Max fucks him, and Checo sucking Daniel's cock as Max thrusts in to him. They were probably loud, and Checo definitely has a collection of hickeys covering the base of his throat and down over his pecs, but Checo cannot bring himself to care. He falls asleep just as Max cleans him and Daniel up.

The next morning when they’re all awake, naked and cuddled together on Checo’s hotel bed, Max asks, “Do you forgive us?”

Checo smiles up at Max from where he lies on Max’s chest and presses a chaste kiss to Max’s jaw then takes Daniel’s hand and places a kiss to his palm. “Mis amores, I forgive you, did a long while ago, and I want you. This wasn’t a one time thing for me.”

“It’s not for us,” Daniel says from the other side of Max, looking right into Checo's eyes, “never has been.”

“I’m glad.” Checo sighs and cuddles closer to the two of them.

He sees Alex in the paddock that morning. Alex waves at him and makes his way over. "You alright mate?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty great. You were right by the way."

Alex grins, "told you so." He looks at something on Checo's neck and waggles his eyebrows teasingly, "looks like you had fun last night."

Checo chuckles and adjusts the collar of his Red Bull polo, better covering what he knows is a hickey. "I did. We had a talk before we left about what we are and what we wanted out of all this," Checo looks around for any boom mics or cameras - he's clear, "they're my boyfriends."

"That's awesome mate, I'm happy for you. You guys are gonna be the best trio Red Bull have seen!" Alex claps him on the back.

"Thank you," Checo smiles.

Alex nods, "see you on track!" Checo watches him go back to Williams.

An arm slings over his shoulder and Checo grins, immediately knowing who it is.

"All good?" Daniel asks. Checo's chest floods with warmth and love. They haven't said 'I love you', not yet. It's still fresh for the three of them, but Checo has no doubt that eventually they will get there.

Checo nudges him with the side of his hip, "perfect, you?"

"Never better, love. Now come on, let's find Maxy. Can't wait to see you kill it on track," Daniel says, guiding him back over to Red Bull where Max is leaning against a wall, race suit already on and talking to a mechanic.

"Special delivery of one driver!" Daniel announces dramatically, gesturing to Checo.

Max's face lights up, quickly finishing up his conversation and manoeuvring through the garage to see them. "You doing okay? I mean it might not have been our smartest idea to... before a race."

"You mean how I will have to sit in a car for two hours with a sore ass?" Checo smirks, not even bothering to lower his tone around the mechanics.

"Oh my god..." Daniel groans quietly.

"Yes that," Max mumbles, cheeks flushed all red.

Checo giggles, "I will be fine."

"That's great then, love," Daniel smiles, "now go suit up. Don't want Marko to come after you."

Checo nods and makes his way back to his drivers room, hands brushing his boyfriends' as a subtle romantic goodbye.

He can't be too obvious, that much is a given, but given how Max and Daniel had established themselves as being very touchy-feely 'friends' so perhaps he could find out what he could get away with in the future.

And wow, to think about them in the future makes his heart flutter. This is real. This is the start of something solid. He knows it won't be easy for a multitude of reasons but those seem like future obstacles that he believes they should be able to overcome. He feels lighter, more than he has in a while and something tells him 2023 will be good year.

#literally nobody asked for this but #chemaxiel #i have an agenda #alex albon my beloved is also here #if i write a part two it will be the missing smut scene #the only reason i didn't write it now is because i lowkey want this to be done #that may be why the ending is rushed #sorry not sorry #f1 rpf #maxiel #chestappen #checciardo

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