#there's six paychecks between now and then

[alagaisia]

This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)

So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?

That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.

"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.

[reiderwriter]

♤ I Can't Help Myself ♤

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.” “If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-” “No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.” You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you. “Okay. I'll stay out of your way.” “Great. Looking forward to it.” “Sure. Me too.”

Synopsis: Just when you think everything is going right for you, Spencer Reid walks into your life and ruins everything. Stealing your job and half of your office, you can manage, but you won't let him steal your heart as well.

Warnings (possible spoilers): Enemies to lovers, academic rivals to lovers, slight age gap, Professor Reader x Professor Spencer, eventual smut, unplanned pregnancy.

A/N: Welcome to my new series! This one specifically is dedicated to the one anon in my inbox that has been asking only for enemies to lovers for like 8 months now, but also to anyone who is a great enemies-with-benefits-to-lovers fan!

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

T A G L I S T

Chapter One - Puppet on a String

Chapter Two - Four In The Velvet Morning

Chapter Three - Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory

Chapter Four - Here Isn't Where I Wanna Be

Chapter Five - In Case I'm Mistaken

Chapter Six - Wished Away Entire Lifetimes

Chapter Seven - The Thrill of the Chase

Chapter Eight - 1/7/24

Chapter Nine - 8/7/24

Chapter Ten - 15/7/24

Epilogue One - 22/7/24

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Night in Vegas- Lando x fem reader

Summary: Y/N had been Lando's PR, it had been messy and she moved to Red Bull, but maybe things were not as bad as she thought.

Warnings: Abusive Max (Sorry someone had to be the bad guy) smutty ending.

Notes: No hate to anyone this story just needed a villain.

___________________________________________

The moment the job offer came from Red Bull you didn't think it twice. You had been Lando's PR for the last 2 years, which was kind of a nightmare. He had the worst cases of verbal diarrhea, not that Max didn't but the paycheck was worth the extra work. Also, the interactions with Lando had always been weird and uncomfortable.

He was so nice and funny around everyone else but you, whenever it was just you two, you could hear the grass grow. In the beginning, you tried to get to know him, create somewhat of a bond so you could understand him better and work around that info, but every time you tried to get him to tell you something about him he would shut you out, keeping his answers short and dry.

And here you were, your first six months as Max PR agent were...interesting, he was a master in driving but thanks to his dad and the people around him, his public image was a challenge, a challenge you loved to work, at least you did until he started showing his real self. It began with small tantrums, mood swings when an interview had been scheduled when he had agreed to go play paddle, or that one time on a bad day when a reporter asked him about his dad's history with the law even when you had precisely warned them not to ask about any of that.

But that was all fun and games until tonight's event for the Vegas GP. Usually, the US GP's parties were a nightmare. Tons and tons of media people and influencers with little idea about F1. Yet they were important to attend because of the amount of rich people the teams craved as their lawful sponsors, so all the drivers were requested to go. This meant an awful fight with Max who hated these events where he had to "prostitute" himself for a couple of millions, it was particularly tricky now that some pictures and supposed messages showing Kelly might have been cheating, surfaced. You promised him to warn everybody that any questions about his personal life were off the table for any of the interviews, but American media cared little about that.

"Are you stupid or something?" His angry voice was so much like his dad's. Dry, hurtful, and insulting even when he wasn't using big curse words.

"Max, I told everyone personal questions were off the table. I sent a memo last week and a reminder this morning" You walked following him closely as he exited the event venue. Your heels making it difficult for you to keep his pace.

"I don't care!" He stopped and turned towards you abruptly, making you crash against his body. "If Christian gives me any shit about not being here I will make sure he knows this was all your fault" His voice loud and angry felt even more intimidating as he was towering over you, his red face so close to yours you could feel the heat radiate from it.

"But-"

"Shut it, I don't want to hear it" He spat.

"Hey, mate, easy" You both turned to look at the curled hair driver approaching at a firm pace.

"Lando, this has nothing to do with you"

"It does when you're talking like that to Y/N" He gently held your arm pulling you back, placing himself between you and Max.

"How did you deal with this shit for two years? she's the worst"

"I disagree, she's the best"

"What? Why are you defending her?" Max looked in shock from Lando's intervention, and to be honest, so were you.

"Because I know the mess you are and you talking to her like that is unacceptable and most likely uncalled for. We should've never let her go, I've begging Zak to get her back and after this, there's no way I'm letting her stay at RB"

"What the fuck? I don't...Wait, did you two ...? She must be a good fuck if you want her back so bad" A bitter laugh left his chest.

There it was, the angry verbal diarrhea.

You wanted to jump in and tell him you had never even crossed two complete phrases with Lando, how the hell were you going to fuck him? But no sound left your body, you were just a passenger in this trainwreck.

"Max, come on, It's not her fault your life's a fucking mess and that you have no idea how to deal with it. And take it from me, mate, you don't need a PR manager, you need a therapist."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Max took a couple of steps forward and faced Lando menacingly. He wasn't much taller than the Brit but seemed angry enough to cause damage.

"This is enough" You finally spoke, your voice shaky as you grabbed Lando's arm trying to pull him back. But he didn't move an inch.

"I'm not afraid of you mate" Lando hissed.

"Ok enough" You said in the most motherly voice ever and stepped in between them. "Lando, thanks but that's enough. You two don't want to do or say anything you'll regret later"

"See you on the track, mate" Said Lando as he took your hand and pulled you toward the parking lot.

You walked with him still in shock from the situation, expecting for him to let go of your hand as soon as you were out of sight from Max, but he kept going until he reached the Valet and gave him his ticket.

"Thanks fo that" You tried breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I think I need to go back there tho, I might not have a job tomorrow, but I don't need them to fire me because of not complying with my duties, Maybe I can find Max and convince him-"

"If they don't fire you, you're quitting" He said as he typed on his phone.

"What?! No, I can't do that, I can't afford to lose my job"

"You'll have a job"His voice was confident as he kept typing.

"Lando, I really-"

"Your car, Mr.Norris" The valet cut you off opening the passenger door for you.

"Get in" Lando walked toward the door to hold it himself.

"Lan-"

"Get in... please" He finally looked at you, something in his eyes telling you to do it. Not wanting to perform another scene now in front of the valet, you got inside the fancy McLaren. Your feet thanked you for the much-needed rest after the little sprint.

He removed his suit jacket, got in the driver's side, and drove off.

"I swear, you're not going to be jobless, you can stop with the bouncy leg" A hint of a laugh in his voice. Of course, he could laugh about it, he was worth millions, if he lost his job that same night, he'd have enough money to live comfortably for two lives.

Your phone started ringing in your bag. Chirstian's face on your screen made your heart beat a thousand miles. You could almost hear him, his calm yet angry voice made your skin crawl.

"Don't answer him, there's no need"

"Lando, you don't get it, it's not that simple"

A ding on his phone and a pop-up notification on his console screen called your attention.

Zak: Fine, I'm ok with it, we can talk details tomorrow.

"See?" He said smiling at the notification. You stared at him confused.

"I promised him I would behave my best for the rest of my contract if they took you back. Welcome back to Mclaren" A big smile on his face. It was odd being on the receiving end of that smile.

"Sadly, you won't be working with me. You will be part of the team's PR, I think that's an even bigger paycheck, tho"

"Ok, stop stop stop" Your voice filled with slight panic. "What the fuck's happening?"

"Wow, your first bad word" He was way too entertained with the situation.

"That you know of" Your facade was off, screw being professional, this moment was a moment for panic.

Christian's number shined on your screen again.

"Hello" You finally answered.

"Y/N, I just got a thousand messages from Max, and from the team at the event, what's going on?"

"Christian, Max lost it after some journalist asked him about Kelly, I had clearly said no questions about that were allowed"

"You should not have left Max to leave the party, we need him back there"

"I tried to stop him but-"

"No buts, Y/n, that's your job"

"No"

"What?"

"No, that's not my job, I'm not a babysitter, I'm a PR agent, I should not be dealing with tantrums and the equivalent of being spit in the face by an angry baby just because he's Max Verstappen"

You took a deep breath as the man on the other side of the phone kept quiet. Netflix would kill to have footage of this situation.

"I quit" You finally said

"What?" His high-pitched voice told you he was as surprised as you by the words leaving your mouth. You turned to look a Lando, he had the biggest smile on his face.

"I quit, Christian. I can stop by to sign my resignation tomorrow."

"But-"

"I'm sorry but I have to go now. I will stop by your office tomorrow to sign whatever is needed and to return my credentials. Have a good night" You hung up with shaky hands. As much as you sounded confident you were screaming inside.

"Nice" Lando's accent so thick.

"Oh my God" You placed your head between your legs and took deep breaths, trying not to faint.

"It's ok, it will all be ok" You felt his hand run softly up and down your back which felt weirdly soothing and calming.

You finally felt calm enough to lift your head, realizing he had pulled over at a truck stop next to the highway.

"What the fuck just happened?" You closed your eyes, the world felt as if it was spinning out of orbit.

"It will be ok, you were amazing"

"I will regret this tomorrow"

"I could help you with that" he said under his breath, you barely catching his words.

"What?"

"Never mind. Listen, you'll be fine, you'll join the team for the next season, and you can take this time as a well-deserved vacation"

"What are you talking about? Maybe Zak only told you that so you would stop bothering him. I can't wait until the next season. Oh my God, I need to call Christian back, if I apologize and explain that I was drunk or something he might not fire me" you said as you fumbled with your phone trying to get your shaky hands to get your calls.

"Stop, no, Y/n" In a swift move, Lando took your phone from your hand.

"Give it back! This is all your fault!"

"What?!"

"If you had stayed out of this I might have convinced Max to go back to the party and none of this had happened" You said as you almost jumped over him to get your phone back as he moved his hand around keeping you away from it.

"Oh c'mon, you wouldn't have lasted two more weeks with his annoying ass, I love Max but he's a pain" He sounded way too entertained by all this.

"Lando, stop it! Give me back my phone!"

"No, you have to calm down"

"No, give it back" you were almost kneeling over the seat.

"Y/n, stop"

"No"

"Y/n!"

"NO, GIVE IT-" Before you could finish your sentence his free hand grabbed you from your neck and pulled you toward him, his lips crashed into yours, finally getting you to stop moving. You even stopped breathing.

After a couple of seconds or hours, you weren't sure anymore, he let go of the fist he had formed around your hair and pulled back. His cheeks flushed as if he had been the one who had gotten kissed out of nowhere.

"Have I been drugged? Am I hallucinating? This has to be a weird trip"

His particular laugh sent chills down your spine.

"C'mon, it wasn't my best job but I'm not used to kissing people as they're having a panic attack, I needed you to calm down"

"And kissing me was the best you could come up with?"

"You're not thinking about your phone or Christian anymore, are you?"

"You're sick"

"Listen, I'm sorry I did it like that, ok? I stepped over a boundary and I apologize, but I know that after this you might hate me for the rest of your life and this seemed like the only moment I was going to be able to do it, so I'm sorry but not really"

"You can't go around kissing people just because"

"I didn't do it just because"

"What?"

"Y/N, I'm fucking in love with you!" He screamed.

"What?" Your voice is barely a whisper

"I'm sorry, I was dumb ok?"

"I'm not getting any of this"

"Ok, I'll explain. It took me about 2 months to fall head over heels for you, ok? You're smart, incredibly beautiful, funny, and so good at your job, it was hard not to fall in love with you. But I know I can be an asshole, so trying to stay away from you and not ruin everything I behaved like an even bigger asshole, pushing you away and into Red Bull's arms. So as an apology, I've been having talks with Zak. this has been going on for months. So no this just didn't come up, Max just made it easier for me to set the plan in motion"

You stared at his proud face in awe.

"Are you breathing?" He asked when not. single sound had left your body for a long time.

"You're in love with me?"

"Um yeah" He blushed and almost looked away but he didn't.

"For the two years we worked together, you were in love with me?"

"Yeah, basically"

"You have a shitty way of showing love"

"Sorry" he laughed under his breath

"You're nuts"

"I know" As soon as he saw you had calmed down he stretched his hand softly caressing your cheek. "I'm nuts for you"

"Ew, don't"

He laughed, the sound making you feel something new.

"I don't know"

"What?"

"What's going on"

"Maybe another kiss might help? I'm actually asking this time"

"Ok" You answered in a low whisper.

"Ok" He softly whispered as he took you by the neck, and pulled you toward him. It was a mutual kiss now, your lips dancing with his. His tongue traced your lips and they parted allowing your tongue to start a fight with his.

The kiss heated up as his other hand grabbed your hips and pulled you over him. Your ass pressed on the horn startling both of you and making you laugh, but quickly you returned to your make-out session.

His hand shily traveled down your spine and stopped over the soft satin fabric covering your ass. You knew exactly what he was trying to test, so you moved yours down his chest, feeling his racing heart, and traveled down all the way to his pants. You could feel his growing bulge and you gave it a squeeze. He moaned deeply and he gave a slap to your ass, making you moan too.

You were about to unbuckle his belt but his hand landed over yours.

"Wait, do you actually want to do this?" he asked out of breath.

"Yes" Your voice shaky from the excitement.

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you or-"

"Lando, I want you to fuck me"

Your words sent an electric shock through his body, you could even feel his dick twitch under your hand.

"I'm all yours" He smiled and moved his lips to your neck, you threw your head back giving him space to explore it and its sensitive areas. He gave soft bites around it, as he stretched to the glove compartment getting a condom out of it.

"You're a manwhore"

"I was just manifesting this"

"Sure" you answered squinting your eyes.

"I promise, You can ask Oscar, I've not had sex for months"

"I don't need to know that"

"Yeah you do, I swear I wasn't going to use this with anyone else, I promise"

He was most likely lying, but you decided to believe him, at least for tonight.

"Fine" You said as you took the condom from his hand and opened it as your lips went back to his.

He helped you by pulling down his pants and his boxers enough for his throbbing cock to spring out and slap his stomach.

"Hello Mr. Norris" You said with a cheeky smile

"Don't act so surprised"

"Sorry"

He now took the hem of your dark blue dress and pulled it over your hips, softly caressing the soft flesh of your thighs and ass. He moaned at the feeling of no underwear under it.

"You're naughty"

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me"

"I love it" He said and bit your lower lip as he placed you over his hard cock. You took the condom and without breaking the kiss you rolled it over his dick, enjoying the feeling of the heat and the veins that ran through it.

He couldn't wait any longer and as soon as he felt the condom in place he lifted his hips entering you in one deep thrust making you moan loudly from the incredible feeling of being so full.

"Fuck, Lando" you said as he started thrusting. A slow yet hard pace made your eyes roll to the back of your head, as he held you one hand by the neck the other one caressing your ass.

"Fuck, you're so fucking perfect" He moaned against your tits that were spilling out your dress.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, pushing you closer to your release.

You had forgotten when was the last time you had sex, but none of your previous experiences could compare to this one. Lando being a manwhore was quite a benefit.

His hips hitting against yours at such a perfect pace was driving you crazy. He could tell by the way you were pulsing around him that you were close. This was probably a record and he was going to savor it.

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and just a couple of circles helped by how wet you were pushed you over the edge, loudly moaning his name in his ear. That sweet sound looped in his brain, making him reach his climax shortly after.

"Fuck" he finally said after you two had reached a decent breathing pace.

"Shit"

"Fourth curse word of the night"

"Shut it" You said as you pushed yourself off his chest and kissed him.

"I'm going to love having you around again"

"Me too"

"Well, Max was right about one thing" A cheeky grin on his face.

"What?"

"You're such a good fuck"

"You're a dick" You slapped his chest as he pulled you back to kiss him.

This was probably going to be a mess, but at least for a couple of months you were unemployed and free to date whoever you wanted, that included F1 drivers who would probably be off limits once your contract started, but that was a problem for your versions of the future.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

[pastorpresent]

When the dust settled of what Wade dubbed their 'super awesome Madonna world saving sacrifice', (don't fucking ask, god knows Logan doesn't) the TVA had offered to hire their services to round up variants that incorrectly stumbled into their universe. With a fucking paycheck.

Logan had been trying (and failing) to find work for a few weeks by that point. It was sort of difficult when he had no tangible work history in this universe, with no references that could actually be called. Or a social security number. Or a bank account. Or any form of ID, really.

Wade had already quickly agreed on both their behalfs, and Logan got the feeling he just needed a valid excuse to put the suit on now and again between his monotonous shifts at the dealership.

The only catch was that they had to undergo a physical and mental health assessment before hand.

He'd passes the physical with flying colours. The mental one... not so much. They'd still 'hired' him, but when he was given a folder with information regarding each fucking problem he had mentally, they'd heavy implied he needed to work on it to keep his job.

His plan had been to chuck it in the trash, or burn the fucker, but it'd slipped his mind to do either by the time they'd gotten home because Wade started trying to cook pasta for dinner and almost set the entire place on fire, somehow.

He left it on the side and Wade, being the nosy fucker he was, had of course read it.

There was a lot of shit Logan expected to find in there - depression, ptsd, alcoholism... stuff he didn't exactly need some fancy fucking doctor to tell him he had. A six year old could probably glance his way and identify that he needed antidepressants.

The one that he'd thought was odd, and the one Wade seemed to latch onto, was 'touch deprivation'.

The thing was, Wade was a shithead. He practically made it his goal whenever he walked into a room to be the most annoying person in that room. Usually successfully.

But he was also... good. He was a good person, despite what people might say to him. He wanted to help him, which was... sweet, he supposed.

A lot of the stuff in there was a bit tricky to 'fix', probably requiring some sort of medication or therapy (Logan point blank refused both) but a couple of things, Wade seemed hellbent on helping him with.

There was never any liquor in their apartment, for starters. Whenever Logan would buy any, it would go mysteriously missing the following day. Al didn't even know it had been there, and Wade was a shit liar with his innocent little shrug when Logan would ask.

Ar first it pissed him off but, well, Wade was just trying to help, and he was - helping, that is. Logan was actually sober more than he was drunk these days - which hasn't happened in at least a decade.

The 'touch deprivation' was another Wade seemed hell bent on helping with.

The merc was already tactile with his friends. Logan had seen him drape an arm over their shoulder, side hug them as they walked somewhere, hug them goodbye.

It seemed he dialled it up to a thousand with him, though.

If they both happened to be in the kitchen, Wade was brushing up against him every few seconds, murmuring apologies as he all but pressed against him under the guise of trying to move somewhere or reach something.

When they were out, Wade would let their arms and hands brush up against each other. If Logan was pushing the cart in the store, Wade would 'accidently' rest his hand over his on the handle bar.

It was little stuff, things that somebody on the outside of them would probably not even notice, until one night on the couch.

They'd been running around for the TVA all day, and Logan was irritable and exhausted. He felt about ready to claw his own skin off out of general frustration, built up from a day of shitty, all over the place missions.

They'd both showered and were sat watching gossip girl, but he just couldn't settle. He was switching position every few seconds, growling under his breath every time his discomfort returned, and he must've been annoying the fuck out of Wade, he thought.

After maybe an hour - and Logan wasn't going to cry, but he damn sure felt like it, Wade sighed next to him.

Logan immediately found himself growing defensive, ready to argue that it wasn't his fucking fault his skin felt all tingly and wrong, and that the couch was too soft, or that there was a dumb ache in his chest that he didn't understand.

Wade didn't start arguing though. Instead, he lifted an arm in invitation.

Logan stared at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. How many hits to the head had he taken today? Could his regenerative abilities repair concussion or should Logan be taking him to a fucking hospital?

"Come on, peanut. Let me help," Wade said, which only confused Logan more. He didn't even know what was wrong- so how did Wade reckon he could fix it?

"I'm fine," he gritted out with a glare, trying to keep still to prove his point but fuck, his skin felt painful and tight.

"Alright," Wade held his hands up in surrender before letting them drop, turning back to the TV.

Logan watched him for a few seconds, then scoffed loudly, moving to lay a bit more on the arm rest.

It felt like it was digging into his ribs. He scratched his arm, barely resisting the urge to unsheathe his claws. He adjusted to lie back into the cushions. He sunk in too much, and the soft cushions felt like sandpaper against his on-fire skin.

Something dangerously close to a whimper escaped his lips, and he had to blink back a dampness building in his vision. Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Lo," he thought Wade had went back to focusing on the show, but apparently he'd been wrong, because the merc was staring at him with soft, concerned eyes, and Logan wanted to scream.

"What?" Logan snipped, but it was missing any of the intended edge.

"Let me try and help. No one else is here, it's just us - and if you don't like it, you can just sit back up," Wade lifted an arm again, an invitation for Logan to curl up against him and... it pissed him off how nice that sounded.

He hesitated for a few moments longer. Too long, really, and he expected Wade to rescind the offer entirely out of impatience.

He didn't. He just adjusted himself to be more sprawled back against the couch cushions, parting his legs a little and keeping his arm raised.

Logan made a defeated noise in the back of his throat, crawling closer. He hovered awkwardly between Wade's legs, unsure how to proceed, and Wade just gently pushed on his shoulders to get him to lie down, his head and upper torso covering Wade's chest and lower body.

He worried he'd be too heavy for Wade, but the younger man didn't seem bothered whatsoever. Perks of him being built pretty indestructible, probably.

"Good boy," he praised quietly, running his hand through Logan's hair. Essentially petting him, really, and Logan couldn't explain it but it's like everything in his head and everything with his body quietened down. He could breathe again, and he found himself going boneless against the younger man.

He wrapped his arms around Wade's torso, nuzzling into his stomach with a content sound, his eyes slipping shut as Wade continued to play with his hair, stroke over his back, brush fingers over his neck, calming the burn of his skin wherever they went.

It became a regular occurrence after that. Every night when they settled down to watch TV, Wade would wordlessly lift an arm, and Logan would wordlessly crawl over to lie against him. Sometimes they reversed it, because Logan discovered that having Wade lying atop of him felt incredibly grounding. Usually though, he'd be the one pressed up against the merc, tangled around him like some sort of extra clingy and extra heavy octopus. Wade would always 'pet' him, mumbling occasional praise as he ran gentle fingers over his body, scratching his scalp or dragging blunt nails over his back and arms.

Logan didn't realise how desperately he needed the touch until it was gone.

They'd been arguing all day. It was all stupid shit, really - moreso driven by the fact they hadn't had a mission in a while. Wade grew antsy if he'd been out of commission too long, and if he had to work so many back to back shifts at the dealership. And Logan grew irritable being stuck in the tiny apartment with no real purpose all day.

He'd went to the store and bought himself a bottle of whiskey to occupy his mind, to stop the thoughts of his old found family dead on the ground from a fight he could've aided in leaking into his brain.

Wade, as usual, had poured it down the drain. Something that, ordinarily, Logan would've been pissed about but let drop fairly quickly- because despite what others may think of him, his sort of almost sobriety did matter to him. It mattered to Wade too, which is why Logan never usually got all that mad at him for pouring perfectly good alcohol down the drain.

Maybe it was because of the irritation already brewing within them both, or maybe it was because Logan had really been relying on loosing himself in that bottle, but the argument quickly spiralled out of hand.

"You can't just pour out my shit, Wade!" Logan yelled, gesturing to the now empty bottle.

"Yeah, I'm being totally unreasonable. Next time I'll let you drink yourself into a stupor, pinky fucking promise!" Wade yelled back.

"You had no fucking right!"

"Do you think I want to, huh?! You think I just love having to control your alcohol intake like your some sixteen year old girl who discovered fucking smirnoff for the first time?!"

"Then fucking don't! I don't need you to do anything for me! I managed by myself for two hundred fucking years, I don't fucking need you, and I certainly don't fucking want you!" Logan shouted, probably loud enough that they'd get complaints from the neighbours later.

The ensuing silence felt even louder.

He regretted it immediately. He didn't mean it, and he knew that as soon as he'd said it. Because yeah, he might be able to survive by himself- but that's all it ever was. Fucking survival.

Wade showed him how to live.

He was still too angry to take any of it back, though. To admit he'd crossed a line.

"Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want, Logan," and Wade left, their bedroom door slamming echoing throughout the whole apartment.

They avoided each other for days. Even when they were together, there was silence. Wade didn't crack any of his usual jokes. They ate in silence. They stopped waking up tangled up in one another, and Wade no longer opened an arm in invitation when they were sharing the couch alone. No hand over hand on the cart, or arms brushing in the street, none of it.

Logan didn't give a shit, obviously. He bought ridiculous amounts of alcohol and drank until he passed out on their kitchen floor, waking up a few hours later cover in his own vomit and Mary Puppins peering at him curiously. Even the fucking dog was judging him.

It was the week mark, and Logan actually hadn't had a drink that day. Only because he had ran dry on money to buy any, and he'd considered stealing some but thought it wouldn't be worth losing his job with the TVA. He did maybe try drinking some of Al's nail polish remover, but he was halfway into the bottle when he realised she used the type that was fucking alcohol free.

Not his proudest moment.

His body already felt weary from the slight pulls of withdrawal when he sat on his end of the couch, purposefully not glancing Wade's way. It was very much like how he'd felt when he stopped drinking so much in this universe. The tiredness that ate down to his bones, the cravings niggling his brain constantly.

He already didn't feel great - but then the itching started, and it got intense fast.

His efforts to keep still were futile. It was so much worse than the first time around, and worse still because he knew what was missing, and it was his own fault he didn't have it anymore.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? 'Hey I know I said I didn't need you and to stop treating me like a child, but if you don't cuddle me right now I might fucking explode'.

No. He couldn't do that.

Everything hurt. He couldn't draw a breath in properly, and even the feeling of his clothes against his skin felt fucking wrong. Like it was too... light.

The final straw was when one of those tears welling in his eyes actually escaped, rolling down his cheek. He wiped at it harshly, and got up without another word, heading straight for their bedroom.

He couldn't let Wade see him like this. He was fucking pathetic.

He stripped down to his boxers, needing the stupid fabric to stop touching him, and got onto their bed. The covers felt scratchy, and he kicked them away with a growl. In the process of his aggressive attempts to find a comfortable position, he got a whiff of a familiar scent.

Wades. Wade's pillow smelt exactly like him.

It was the first time since the itching feeling started that he felt some sembelence of calm. His skin still burnt, but he could sort of zone it out for a moment.

He tried to turn away. To ignore it, because it was fucking stupid, but he didn't last long before he was grabbing the pillow and pulling it towards him, pressing his face into it and inhaling deeply.

He didn't remember when he started crying, but the pillow was soon wet with tears. He was so fucking stupid. Utterly fucking ridiculous - a grown ass man crying into a pillow because, what? He didn't have someone playing with his fucking hair?

He was so, so beyond furious at himself. At how ridiculous he was, and at how massively he'd managed to mess everything up.

Wade was good. He was bad. He should've known from the get go that he'd fuck it all up.

"Jesus, Logan," the soft gasp startled him from his thoughts abruptly, and he panicked. He sat up, shoving the pillow aside despite the fact Wade had seen exactly what he was doing.

Maybe he'd get lucky and one of those stupid ring portals would appear beneath him and send him elsewhere. Anywhere, really- he didn't care, it would be better than this.

"What?"

The biting tone wasn't all that effective when he had to scrub at his eyes to get rid of the tears.

It didn't even work anyway. They wouldn't fucking stop now that he'd let them start, and the fact Wade had caught him sitting there breathing in dredges of his scent while fucking crying - maybe part of it was just the utter humiliation of it all.

"Oh, Lo. It's alright," Wade murmured, and then he was shutting the door and crossing the room, climbing onto the bed.

He reached out, but seemed to hesitate, his arm dropping, "can I touch you?"

Logan only cried harder, his body practically vibrating, as if it was attempting to force him to move closer even unconsciously. He gave a jerky nod, "please."

Wade was on him in an instant, pulling him in so tight that to anyone without super strength and regenerating abilities, it would probably hurt.

Logan didn't care. He needed more. The fire was tamed, but it was still there, the embers tickling his body and threatening to overtake him again.

His hands tugged at the hem of Wade's shirt, seeking permission. He needed the stupid itchy fabric gone. The press of it was too soft and gentle. He needed skin. Needed something solid. Needed Wade, now.

"Shirt off?" Wade clarified, and Logan nodded where his head was tucked into the crook of his neck.

He hadn't accounted for the fact that they'd have to break their embrace to do it.

Wade tried to pull back, but Logan gasped, digging his nails in and keeping himself plastered to Wade's front.

"I'm not going anywhere, peanut. I'm just taking my clothes off, alright? I'm not leaving you, I swear," Wade put both hands on the side of his face, lifting it so he could look into his eyes as he spoke, the pad of his thumb wiping away his tears.

Logan reluctantly let go, shivering violently when everything hit him again.

Wade made quick work of stripping off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. He lay down, and opened his arm.

Logan could've started crying again in relief. He all but dove at the younger man, burying his face away in his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him. Wade held him tightly, pulling him in enough so their bodies were pressed together solidly.

He lifted a hand and started stroking his hair, shushing him softly and rocking their bodies a little.

"I'm sorry. 'M so sorry, I didn't mean any of it," and ordinarily he might very been reluctant to say it, never being all that good at swallowing down his perceived pride, but it felt too important not to say.

Because despite everything, Wade had came in here to check on him. He could've just continued to watch TV. He could've so easily made fun of him for what he'd walked into, mocking how fucking stupid he was, and walked straight back out. He could've and should've done all of that, but he didn't. Because he was Wade, and he was good, and Logan would never fully understand what positivity he put out into the world to earn him.

"I know, me neither. Just calm down, Lo. It's all good now, I've got you," Wade assured, squeezing tighter, and Logan made a small satisfied sound, nosing at Wade's chest and then his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and body wash.

The itching had ceased, but he still felt like he needed more, like it wasn't enough until he sliced Wade open and crawled inside of him, curled up contently next to his beating heart, burrowed beneathe his ribs.

He didn't verbalise it, but Wade seemed to understand, as usual.

"On your back, baby," he directed, and Logan did so without complaint.

Wade moved with him, lying on top of him completely, tangling their legs together, a solid weight pressing him into the mattress, and ironically enough he finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good boy. You're so good, peanut," Wade hummed, running fingers over his shoulders. Logan disagreed, but he was too out of it to really argue. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, hovering out of his body.

He didn't realise he was biting until Wade let out a soft sound above him, and the metallic taste filled his mouth.

"Fuck, sorry I... I didn't realise," he tried to move away, eyes wide, but Wade shushed him again, his expression something fond.

"Does it help?" Wade asked simply, and Logan swallowed. It did. It was... it was like Wade felt closer to him, somehow.

"Mhm, but don't wanna hurt you," he felt almost drunk, his words slurring a little as he watched the small wound on Wade's shoulder close up.

"I'll heal, angel. Have at it," Wade tilted his head in invitation, and Logan nosed at his neck for a moment, still not entirely sure, before sticking out the tip of his tongue and licking experimentally. He moaned softly at the taste of Wade on his taste buds, pressing his nose against his adams apple simultaneously to breathe him in. He let his teeth sink in lightly, nibbling at the sensitive area.

Wade groaned atop of him, and Logan went to pull away, but the merc held him there by the back of his head, "keep going. Please, Lo," and he sounded breathless and needy, and it made Logan growl with animalistic possessiveness, biting down a bit harder, blood running to the surface, which he quickly lapped up.

He couldn't really tell who connected lips first, he was fairly certain it was him, but it didn't really matter ultimately. They were high off one another, Wade grinding down while Logan rutted up, both of them rock solid against each other.

Logan bit at his lip, drawing blood before licking it away filthily, dragging his nails all over every surface of Wade he could reach. He needed him. He needed him so fucking badly. He wanted to worship every square inch of him then crawl beneathe his skin and make a home there.

He reached between them, wrapping a hand around Wade's length, but the merc caught his wrist, using the other hand to grip Logan's jaw and direct their eyes to meet.

"Logan," he knew vaguely that Wade wanted him to listen, but he was too busy whining beneathe him, pushing his hips up trying to chase the friction that every cell in his body was fucking screaming for. He didn't want to stop, and he didn't get why Wade was making him.

"Logan. Hey, eyes on me, peanut," Wade ordered firmly, and Logan finally reluctantly ceased his movements, blinking Wade's face into his focus.

"How are you feeling?"

And Logan huffed, glaring a little, because did Wade really stop what they were doing just to ask him that? Seriously?

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, trying to go for Wade's mouth again, but found himself held down by a hand against his bare chest.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that before we go any further, peanut. Especially with how upset you were just twenty minutes ago," Wade was stroking a hand through his hair again, and the calmness that filled his body from the touch was enough to get him to settle down just a little, sinking into the bed and giving up his valiant mission of jerking off against Wade's solid form.

"I just need to know you're okay, and I need to know you're doing this because you want it, not just because you feel like you need it."

"I want it. I want it a lot," he said after a few seconds, looking up at Wade. It was the most vulnerable he'd felt in forever, and all he could do was hope that Wade took that and handled it carefully.

Wade smiled, kissing Logan firmly. Logan gasped into it, letting his mouth open wider, inviting Wade in to explore as he pleased.

Wade pulled away suddenly, and Logan very almost ripped his head off of his shoulders in order to keep him close.

"Easy, boy. I'm just trying to sort you out," Wade explained with fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers.

It was ridiculous, but he wasn't certain he could handle the younger man's body weight leaving him. That press, being able to feel every inch of Wade against him, it was the only thing keeping him tethered in reality. He couldn't handle his skin setting alight again. Especially not when he had went a whole week without Wade's touch.

"Baby," and something about Wade calling him that made him want to crumble. Want to get onto his knees and suck him off and worship him like he deserved, because he must be a God- that's the only explanation as to how he can breathe a single word and make Logan unravel. Because he'd never been that. He'd never been anyone's 'baby', because no one ever bothered to be tender with him before. He was The Wolverine. He was supposed to be rough, and rugged, and maybe 'handsome', but never 'pretty'. Never 'baby'.

And yet everytime it rolled off of Wade's tongue it was so genuine, so sweet and caring, and it was almost like a permission slip for Logan to let the gruff exterior drop just for a minute, and be somebody's 'baby'. Be Wade's 'baby'.

"You don't want me to leave, peanut? You want me to stay on top of you?" Wade asked, because he was genuinely bothered by the idea of Logan not being one million percent happy with this experience.

Logan found his mouth and kissed him again. This one was gentle. So, so gentle. No blood or biting or back and forth - just a barely there press of lips. A thank you, sealed away in a kiss.

"Please," he answered quietly, speaking it into Wade's parted mouth, "I just... I need to know you're here, I think. I need to..." he trailed off, unsure how to finish.

How could he verbalise that he needed to feel him so completely, that he needed Wade everywhere all over him, all at once? How could he say that without scaring him away entirely?

Maybe that would be for the best, in all honesty. He couldn't be so damn reliant - not when Wade had a fucking life to live. A future to build. Why should he put that on hold just because Logan crash landed into his reality?

He should be going on dates with Vanessa right now, trying to fix things. Or hanging out with his actual friends. He should be doing a lot of things- but trying to fix something in Logan that had been irreparably smashed to pieces years ago was not one of them.

"I need- we need to stop," he spoke, even as every cell in his body was screaming no, fuck no.

Wade frowned, the hand that had been tracing over his arms pausing.

"What?"

"I can't. I can't do it. I can't."

He couldn't drag Wade down into the fucking abyss. He couldn't force him to live out his eternity like this.

"Okay, that's okay peanut. You want me to get off of you?" Wade offered, and Logan nodded.

It killed him, but he nodded.

Wade lifted up, manoeuvring onto the edge of the bed.

Logan wanted to throw up, that cold and empty feeling returning to his gut, spreading through all of his limbs like poison. 'This is good, Wade is good, you are bad' was like a mantra in his head, growing louder and louder until all Logan could hear was the rapid thumping of his own heart and those words, screamed, being etched across his organs like a warning.

Maybe the repeated frying of his brain was finally catching up to him.

"Logan, what's wrong?"

Logan wanted to tear his own fucking skin off.

"Did- was it too much? Did I go too far? I'm sorry, I just thought it's what you wanted," Wade was apologising, he was fucking apologising, and Logan was barely holding it the fuck together, his chest tightening.

"No. No, it's... I need to be alone," he choked on the last word, as if his body was physically fighting him from saying it.

Wade was looking at him with a small frown, reaching out for his hand resting on the mattress which Logan quickly moved away.

He'd never forget the look of hurt etched onto the others face. He might very well of tried to hide it, but he caught the flash of upset that filled Wade's features so intensely for just a moment.

"Of course. Yeah, sorry. I'll just," Wade gestured vaguely to the bedroom door before all but racing out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Logan sighed shakily, curling up on himself and trying in vain to stop the tears coming.

Part 2 up now

[sinofwriting]

Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

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A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.” “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

[lovebugism]

Can u plz do something with Stevie x shy!reader and the reader obsessed with birds? I've never seen it done yet 🥲

i know very very little about birds so i tried my best haha hope u like it! — steve tells you he loves you for the very first time at six in the morning on his back porch swing (shy!r, fluff, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve didn’t know being your boyfriend meant going on dates that preceded sunrise. He was only ever a morning person when the paycheck called for it, in truth. But he sits with you still, as warm and close as the bundle of fresh laundry he left in the drier, while the sky turns slowly pink. 

There’s no one else he’d want to be awake at 6 a.m. with.

He can’t tell if you’re sleeping or not, but you’re leaning heavy on his shoulder like you are. Maybe it’s the porch swing forcing this proximity, or the way you’ve got yourself curled on it. Either way, the weight of you is a comforting one. It makes the twilight between times feel much less bitter.

Then, the late late night gives way to an early early morning. The buzzing of nocturnal nightlife turns into the sudden chirping of faraway birds.

“What’s that one?” Steve asks with his cheek smushed into your hair.

“Mourning Dove,” you answer immediately, though he thought you half-asleep. He hadn’t had to ask you which one it was, either. It’s a deeper coo compared to the high-pitched chirping, slower and more sorrowful.

“How can you tell?”

“‘Cause the three part-call. With the highest in the middle,” you explain distantly, more focused on getting comfortable next to the warm body beside you. You worm both arms around one of Steve’s and bury your nose into his sweatshirt-clad bicep, sinking further into the shared blanket draped over you. “I think it’s a male looking for a mate.”

Steve pushes you back and forth on the swing with one foot. “I hope he knows you’re taken,” he jokes.

Your tired eyes peek open to shoot him a heavy-lidded, monotoned stare.

He licks his lips. “Not my best, huh?”

“You’ve had better,” you tease and settle back into him again.

“Also, I was, like, one hundred percent sure that was an owl, by the way.”

“I think all the owls are asleep now.”

“Ah,” Steve hums with a slow nod, golden hands curled around the warming mug of coffee between them. “That’s why they call ‘em night owls, huh?”

You smile wide to yourself, not bothering to hide it because he can’t see how big you’re beaming from this angle. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Harrington?”

He scoffs. “Alright, smartmouth— tell me which bird that one is?” It’s louder than all the rest of them, probably coming from somewhere close. It’s a prettier sound, too. A lot higher than the one before it — a harsh humming, then rapid little chirps, followed by a high-pitched trilling.

“A Lark. Maybe a Lark Sparrow, ‘cause of the buzzing.”

Steve huffs. 

You amaze him, sometimes, with how smart you are. Other times, he’s jealous because he doesn’t have a whole filing cabinet of knowledge in his brain about a very particular topic of interest. Not about birds. Not about anything. 

If he had to give an on-the-spot presentation about anything in the whole wide world, he’d only be able to come up with the time he won the basketball championship his sophomore year of high school. Which not only makes him sound like a complete meathead, but also makes him sound totally lame.

“The amount of information in your head is alarming, you know that?”

He feels your cheek squish against his arm when you smile. “I thought you liked that about me?”

“I do like that about you,” he laughs. “I love that about you.”

You lift your head to blink over at him, eyes still glassy with leftover sleep. Your gaze is wide and filled with something glittering — hope, maybe. “You love me?” you murmur after a few moments.

Steve bounces a shoulder and tries to be cool about the sparkling in his chest. “‘Course I do,” he answers like it’s obvious. He flashes you a crooked smile and two eyes more honied than the early morning sunrise. “Why else would I be out here at 6 a.m.?”

“’Cause you really like birds?” you joke in a tiny voice.

The boy nods, meeting your quiet smile with a more obvious grin. “I’m crazy about ‘em, actually,” he confesses, scrunching the bridge of his chiseled nose.

He’s not talking about birds this time.

[purplephantomwolf]

Love in Motion

Chapter Six

Synopsis: You are a normal college student until you get a wrong number text.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Previous chapter: Chapter Five

Masterlist

May 7, 2022

      You slam your hand down on your phone as your alarm wakes you up. “I don’t want to go to school,” you mumble, half asleep. You sit up and look around, realizing that you’re not in your room. It takes you another second to remember that you’re in Miami and now officially work for Red Bull. “Holy shit,” you jump out of bed, rushing around the room to get ready. You’re so excited to get to work. You head down to the breakfast area, grabbing a bagel to eat. You look around the room, trying to find a place to sit among the AlphaTauri and Red Bull employees. 

     “Y/n, over here,” Jane calls, waving a hand in the air so you can spot her. You make your way to her, weaving between the tables. 

     “Good morning,” you greet the table, sitting down between Amber and Jane. You get a chorus of good mornings from the three photographers. 

     “Did you go over your contract last night?” Jane turns to you. You nod your head taking a bite of your breakfast. “Are there any questions you have?” She asks. 

     “Yes, this moving stipend that’s mentioned, will that come before or after I move?” You ask. 

     “Before. It’ll just be a total sum we pay you, and then you use that to help you move,” Jane explains. You let out a sigh of relief, nodding. The stipend is enough for you to pay to move your things across the world and to get you to your first paycheck for rent. 

     “Perfect, thank you,” you smile at her. You finish up breakfast before heading into the hotel lobby with the group. 

     “Since your start date isn’t for another month and a half, you can just watch the race from the garage with us, Y/n. We’ll be leaving in about an hour for the track,” Jane tells you as you wait for the elevator. 

     “Sounds good, thank you,” you say, climbing into the elevator. Taking the elevator up, you head inside your room. Finishing up getting ready, you sit on your bed to wait. 

     While you wait, you text Luke. 

You: Hey, how’s your morning going?

Luke: Good! Getting ready for an event today. 

You: Oh nice! Good luck!

Luke: Thank you! Since it’s been a month of us talking, would you possibly want to meet up after the race? I’d love to finally meet you face to face.

You: I’d love to do that. We can meet up in the paddock after the race?

Luke: How about we meet behind the McLaren motorhomes? That way we have some privacy?

You: Okay! Sounds good to me!

Luke: I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. 

You: Me too. Good luck with your event today!

Luke: Thank you!

     There’s a knock at your door and you glance at the clock. It’s about time that you leave. You open the door to Jane standing there. “Time to go?” You ask her, grabbing your purse and camera. 

     “Yes! Excited for qualifying today?” Jane asks, as you step out of your room. 

     “Definitely, hoping Max does good today,” you say, strolling towards the elevator.

     “We all are,” Jane says, trailing after you. 

     You ride the elevator down to the lobby and take a cab to the track. You stroll around the paddock, taking pictures. 

************************************************************************

May 8, 2022

     You gasp and your hands fly to your mouth as Lando and Pierre come into contact with each other. Lando’s tire rolls across the track and you internally pout for Lando. Lando wasn’t in the points, but not finishing the race is never fun. You just know he’s disappointed with himself. 

     After five laps under the safety car, racing starts again. You cheer as Max holds the lead. You continue cheering as he holds the lead for the rest of the race. 

     The garage lets out a loud cheer as he crosses the finish line. The mechanics are hugging and high-fiving each other. You get some good shots of the celebrations, excited to be included in these celebrations soon. 

     Jane drags you along with her to the parc ferme, as Max is parking his car. Max gets out of his car and hugs his mechanics. You capture a picture of Max laughing, being lifted by his mechanics. It’s your favourite photo you’ve taken this weekend. 

     Max heads to the podium ceremony, and you wait for him under the podiums. You take pictures of him as he heads out onto the podium. He shakes the champagne and blasts everyone else that’s on the podium. You laugh as the champagne rains down. 

     After the podium ceremony, you head to the office with the other photographers. You spend some time going through your photos and uploading them to the social media folder. 

     By the time you’re done, the others have left. You check your phone to see a text from Luke. 

Luke: Want to meet in 15 minutes?

     This message was sent 10 minutes ago. 

You: Yes. I’ll see you in 5 minutes.

     You quickly rush to the bathroom to check your outfit and hair. Everything looks good, so you head for the McLaren motorhomes. 

     You walk slowly, hoping you take five minutes to get there, but you arrive a minute early. You anxiously wait, nervous about being in a place you’re probably supposed to not be. 

     “Excuse me, what are you doing here?” You turn around and see Zac Brown. 

     “Oh, I’m, uh, meeting someone from McLaren named Luke here,” you squeak out. 

     He looks you up and down. “There’s no one at McLaren named Luke that I know of, and I know everyone.” You blush and mutter apologies. 

     “She’s here for me, I’m assuming!” You turn around and spot Lando Norris rushing towards you. 

     Your eyebrows knit in confusion. “No, I’m here for -” 

     “Luke. I’m Luke,” Lando interrupts you. 

     You’re even more confused now. You see Zac slip away. “What do you mean you’re Luke?” You turn to him. 

     “I wanted to get to know you for you. And I wanted you to get to know me for me, not Lando Norris. So I lied about who I was before I even thought about it. I’m sorry, I know it was wrong of me, and I shouldn’t have done it. I was in too deep before I could back out of the lie.” Lando rushes out. 

     You’re shocked when you hear the truth. “I’m angry at you for lying, I’m hurt.” 

     “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before now. But I screwed it up,” Lando says, looking apologetic.

     You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “Okay. I’m mad at you, and you’re going to have to make it up to me.” You smile softly. 

     “How about a date to make it up to you?” Lando suggests, smiling at you. 

     You just know Lando can see the shock on your face. “A date? You want to go on a date with me?” You stutter out.

     Lando nods, “I do.”

     “I think that’s a good way to make it up to me,” you laugh slightly. 

     “Sounds good. Text me your hotel and I’ll pick you up at 6:30,” Lando tells you. You nod and grab your phone, quickly texting him the location of your hotel. 

     “I’ll see you at 6:30 then,” you say. You walk away, stewing on the fact that you’re about to go on a date with Lando Norris.

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

Taglist:

@sol3chu

@faithshouseofchaos

@freyathehuntress

@hadids-world

@doofenshmirtzevil-inc

@delululeclerc

@anotherapollokid

@neferaskingdom

@a-beaverhausen

[aha-chuu]

We the hsr community are really missing out by ignoring the aventio dynamic that is canon and funny.

Because okay. Let's be fr: Ratio has however many degrees, multiple PhDs inside that. He has a job now, obviously, but he also spent a fat while trying and failing to get Nous and the Genius Society to notice him. He's renowned and super smart and has a bunch of achievements and credentials, but that student loan debt,,, fml. And we know from Herta and Asta's dynamic that scientific endeavours aren't just automatically funded.

So for some period of time before the IPC/Intelligentsia Guild snatched him up, I imagine Ratio was bobbing along like those rubber ducks he likes so much. Not broke, exactly, but certainly in the midst of six different projects at any given time and also canonically doing TA work as well like. Relatable king.

Dr Ratio has eaten a pot noodle in his life is what I'm saying.

But that's like,,, regular financial strain. Aventurine's situation is so far removed that to talk about it in just a monetary way would be insane. His net worth was *how much he was sold for*. But you know. He didn't have rent? Aventurine wouldn't have had any concept of what was "normal" between his downtrodden upbringing and horrific early adulthood.

So what I'm saying on that unhappy note is that when Aventurine got with the IPC, it's no wonder he seems most cavalier about dishing out credits. What do they even mean to him?? Money is important and he understands its value obviously - like it's part of his job and he's smart - but his personal experience is at odds with what he knows logically.

(and in some ways, after having been assigned a monetary value himself... I don't think Aventurine can conceive of any amount of money that is worth a person's life. He'll use people as "chips" but that's different)

Anyway. When Ratio was a fresh faced IPC collaborator and stuck with Aventurine as his partner, their first mission must have been insane. Like Aventurine only knows top level IPC people's financial situations so when Ratio is just a reasonably normal guy Aventurine must have been ???? He's still new at this too, you know, does Ratio need bailing out of all this debt? (it's very regular and he's responsibly paying it off ASAP), should Aventurine get on his good side with an extravagant purchase on his own fairly new IPC issued credit card? (he chooses not to because that might flaunt it).

Ratio notices. Obviously. But the biggest issue for him is Aventurine comparative cluelessness more than actual offense. Also like Ratio is certainly NOT poor I'm sure that first IPC paycheck will polish off the student loans entirely.

It's that cluelessness that would them trigger him to try and figure out Why this clearly competent Stoneheart who is obviously very good with money would be so out of his element when faced with a normal financial situation. And Ratio is blunt so he says those words out loud but without any of those complimentary parts. Aventurine is still reeling from someone seeing through his façade.

This isn't going anywhere except Aventurine trying to be a sugar daddy for maybe four days before he clocks onto the situation properly. And Ratio isn't about to say no to paying off that student loan debt a bit faster. And eventually they're both so well compensated by the IPC that when Aventurine casually transfers everyone else 100000 credits just for being in the room, he has to come up with some insane and creative way to shock Ratio. Maybe that's where the gun light cone came from: "if I can't impress you with my shiny new wealth I will certainly do it with my luck 🤗 why are you dialling a crisis line rn"

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 9 all chapters

Thank you @treedaddymcpuffpuff for curating this beautiful pic!!!! 🖤🖤🖤

TW: sexual harassment, (not john!)

-The next day, you find that diabolical pain in your shoulder is actually gone. You’ve lived with it for a good six months at least. He actually fixed you. It’s such a relief you could cry. You take his advice, and start doing stretches in the morning and after work, so as not to squander his gift. Though, the thought of receiving another massage from those oh-so-capable hands keeps you up at night sometimes.

You wonder if something will change between you at the shop after your little birthday adventure together, but Mr. Wick doesn’t press his advantage, or act overly familiar. In fact, it’s almost like it never happened at all, and you are torn between relief at maintaining the comfortable status quo, or disappointment because…well.

And just what would that look like? you chide yourself. He’s at least twenty years your elder, capable, interesting, handsome as the devil and rich to boot. Do you think he would just sweep you off your feet and let you live in that beautiful cabin of his up on the mountain with him, away from it all?

What would you have to offer a man like that?

The answer, at least in your estimation, is not much, so you concentrate on not pining for him like a lovesick little fool.

Besides, you tell yourself. You’re going to Italy soon. Maybe you’ll meet someone on your travels to take your mind off the Byronically-broody older man who occupies the corner in your shop, and an unfair amount of space in your thoughts.

It doesn’t seem likely, but a girl can hope.

-You start to have a problem at work with your new shift manager. He just can’t seem to fucking restrain himself from making lewd comments at you. He says them jokingly, but it’s not funny, at all. You made the mistake of laughing along awkwardly the first time because you were so shocked and didn’t know what to do. Now he thinks he has carte blanche with you, or worse, that you’re flirting back.

Unfortunately, he’s the owner’s ne’er do well son. It was totally a pity hire, even though you’ve been there longer and are way more qualified for his job. You guess your habit of disappearing for a month to travel probably knocked you out of the running.

Since you’ll be leaving soon for Italy anyway, you feel emboldened to sit down for a second across from Mister Wick when he comes in. He looks at you inquisitively, but not like he’s annoyed you’re intruding.

“I don’t think I’m coming back after my trip,” you feel obligated to tell him, for some reason.

“You can’t leave.” He says it so quickly, and maybe there’s even a note of panic in it. There’s something a little fragile about this imposing man. You feel like maybe only you see it, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

“I just don’t think I can do this anymore. My boss is a creep.” You used to look forward to your job, but now you’ve started dreading coming into work when he’s on the schedule with you. You’re filled with anxiety all the time now, and it’s cut into your sleep because you keep having nightmares about it too.

Mr. Wick’s eyes narrow, and suddenly you are reminded of a wolf. “Is he bothering you?”

You make a face. “He just says gross stuff all the time. It’s wearing. But he’s the owner’s son, so I’m kinda fucked.” The fact that you’re cursing in front of a customer shows how worn down you are.

You’d tried to talk to the owner, Mark, and had been completely blown off about it with the usual tired excuses. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just joking.

Well, ha ha fucking ha.

It was a small indie shop, there was no HR. Your only real recourse, as far as you could tell, was to quit, but you wouldn’t have time to find another job before your trip, and you were counting on your next few paychecks to make ends meet.  

 “That shouldn’t matter,” Mr. Wick insists.

You sigh, because that is the world a Tall White Male occupies, versus your own situation.

The next day after the morning rush you are cleaning up your station when Kyle creeps up, making a gross comment about how he’s jealous of the way you’re “jacking off” the steamer wand as you wipe it down.

“Could you not say stuff like that to me?” you finally snap, exasperated.

“Come on, I was just joking,” he says with a leer, like it’s your fault that you’re uncomfortable.

“You will never speak to her like that again.”  

The voice from behind the two of you is cold as Siberian winter. Neither of you heard Mr. Wick approach. In fact, you didn’t even know he was in the shop. The look he is giving Kyle is pure murder. It’s not even directed at you, and you feel the chill to the marrow of your bones.

“S—sorry, sir. I was just—”

“No, you weren’t. Stop it.”

“Yeah. Ok, sorry.”

Kyle flees for the back, mumbling about having some paperwork to do. You breathe a sigh of relief, and there is some annoying moisture welling in the corner of your eyes.

“Thanks,” you sigh, and you are sorely tempted to leap over the counter and hug this man. He just nods sharply, and goes back to his table. Once again, you can’t help but feel like you have a guardian angel watching over you from the corner. If Kyle is smart enough to take the hint, it will all be fine.

But then you start to think about what just happened a little more.

You start to get an uneasy feeling, and you get Cassie to cover the register while you dare to seek out your dark savior outside as he’s making to leave in his Range Rover. “Mr. Wick?” you ask in hushed tones as he opens his door.

He cants his head in answer, turning to you.

“Please, don’t…light his car on fire or anything?”

He steps in close enough to you that you feel you are engulfed amidst the breadth of his chest and his downturned head. You can smell the warm, masculine spice of his cologne, and maybe you are a little idiot, knowing what you’re pretty sure you know about this man…but it takes every iota of your self-control not to lean into him.  

“I don’t know what you mean?” he says pointedly in a low voice.

“Just…” You make a fist of all the words you want to say, but can’t. You don’t know where you get the cheek to pound his chest with it in your frustration, even if very lightly. It’s like a stone wall beneath your hand, and for some reason that ties something low in your abdomen up in knots.

Maybe you wouldn’t be mad if Kyle lost his dick in an unfortunate petting zoo accident, but...you don’t want him dead. You feel a responsibility in this matter you didn’t with the predators in the van. “Please?”

He engulfs your small hand with his, holding it over his heart.

“I'm just going to go talk to the owner,” he assures you.

“That’s Kyle’s dad,” you inform him, again.

“I’m aware. I’ve dealt with situations like this before.” He smirks a little, and you don’t understand the joke. “If you don't push back on assholes like that, they think they run the world.” 

Wasn’t that the truth.

“Ok.” Then you realize, he might mean he’s going now. “Wait, it's his day off. He hates being disturbed at home.” 

The owner is kind of a big deal in your small town. His own father has been a local business owner and the mayor off and on for a long as you can remember. Their family is connected. You guess that’s why Kyle feels so free to act the way he does.

Must be nice.  

“That's too bad,” says John with a lift of eyebrow like he absolutely doesn't give a shit.

“Wait…how do you know where he lives?”

This seems to amuse him. “This isn't exactly a big place. And...that's kind of what I do. Or used to, anyway.” 

It's the most he's outright told you about his past. It gives you a little chill, and you wonder how much longer you’ll let yourself play dumb. He’s the kind of man who isn’t afraid to take the law into his own hands. He’s missing a finger, and though they’re long healed, you’ve noticed the faint scars on his gorgeous face. He’s gruff and forbidding with a body that could be chiseled from some kind of physicalwork, and eyes that are sharp as a falcon’s, and oh god you hope he doesn’t do anything drastic to persuade Mark to see things his way.

For you, a little voice in the back of your head reminds you. You are half afraid of what’s to come, and half…in love, maybe, if you’re being honest with yourself.   

“I'm so getting fired,” you sing-song under your breath.

“Then…you’ll just have to come work for me.” 

There is a breathtaking sparkle in his dark eyes he says this. It sends a delicious thrill shooting through you, and in a ditch effort to hide how thirsty you are for this man you narrow your eyes at him.

“There better not be an ulterior motive to this caper,” you grouse with no real venom. Then, curiosity gets the better of you. “What would I even do?” 

“I’ve been thinking…I might need a governess for Dog. All he does is eat and lay around all day. He needs some culture.”

You roll your eyes at this. 

“Oh, and pray what does the position of Governess to Master Dog pull?” you play along.  

“What sounds fair? 50 thousand per annum?”

If you were really committed to the bit, you would have swooned into his arms. It was all too tempting. The thought of going to Mr. Wick's beautiful home to play with Dog, as a job that paid a livable wage, sounds like a dream. With the added bonus of...him, at home, all to yourself. Just the thought makes a red-hot flush bloom from your neck to your cheeks.

John smirks down at you, but is kind enough not to call you out on it.

You can’t help but notice he is still holding your hand.  

It dawns on you that this is the first time he's ever been this playful with you. Does the thought of going into a confrontation excite him? It probably does, you realize. If he’d done the kind of work you expect he might have…life in Clear Forks must seem pretty boring, after a while.

You probably seem pretty boring too.

“Very funny, Mr. Wick. And a little mean, dangling that in front of me.”

“Who's being funny?”

But he says it with such a devilish smile, and you just can’t chance taking him seriously. It’s too…much.

You try to disguise your shuddering sigh, and fail, badly. You try to take back your hand, but he holds on, and you are unable to budge him. You can feel his heart beating against your fist. Steady, but fast.

He’s enjoying this as much as you are.

 “I'm probably not supposed to ask you this, but...were you a spy?”

This question sobers him a little, and he levels you with that look. You know it’s meant to be stern, but god. All it does is make you ache.

“You'd better get back inside, Miss y/n. But if fuckhead bothers you again, you tell me. Immediately.”

He says the words, but it still takes him a few seconds more to release you, those dark eyes boring down into yours.

“Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He nods before getting in his Rover.

You’re sorrier than usual to see him go.

As the day goes on and you remain unmolested, most of the tension in your shoulders lifts, and you almost feel normal again. You believe that everything will be fine, one way or another.

Of course, later, Fuckhead makes a point to tell you, as you're leaving at the end of your shift, that he's not scared of your old man. 

Easy to say, once Mr. Wick is far out of ear shot. 

However, in a week's time, Kyle is a no show. Suddenly he's decided to leave town—on a day he was supposed to open the shop, leaving his dad high and dry. Mark is livid and swears Kyle is disowned, and you get your little life back at the Clear Forks Coffee Co.

[anxietycheesecake]

There's something so "performative" about the finale, not sure how to articulate it. I mean, it's been like that for a while, but there were still sincere moments every now and then (probably from the cast putting all their actussy into it). It wanted to make a statement so bad, regardless of whether you think they were mocking us or not. "I'm not a normal sitcom, I'm a cool sitcom, like Seinfield. I don't fit in and I don't want to fit in. Have you ever seen my characters evolve? Oh... Oh... No, you haven't! I artificially took that back every single time! That's cool."

They wanted to remove the sense of a plot and a purpose that season 3 and partially season 4 gave it so hard it's like they couldn't think of anything else. It's funny because it's pointless and unsatisfying, even though we have managed to balance raunchy comedy and emotional scenes just fine before. It's easier this way and it get us Reddit praise. But here's the thing, it wasn't even that funny. Season 1 was just sitcom shenanigans and dark comedy and it was hilarious. Like, when was the last time you physically bent over in laughter while watching this show and are you sure it wasn't because the actors were making a funny voice or a funny face that absolutely wasn't scripted?

But I mean, all that aside, I think it's just cringe. It's giving "how you doing, fellow kids?" It's overdone and so eager to be disruptive it ends up being anticlimatic. "That's the point! We were trying to be anticlimatic!" Ok, bro, you're either a shit writer because you couldn't come up with an actual conclusion or because you genuinely thought that'd make good tv.

Comparing wwdits to Seinfield is like when wannabe great American novelist says he's writing the next Great Gatsby. No you're not. And I don't mean this as "wwdits isn't worth shit compared to actual high art sitcoms such as Seinfield" (I actually liked it better when it wasn't trying to become Seinfield); it's just... There's already a Seinfield. And there was already a wwdits that had found its footing and its voice and was doing a near perfect balancing act between comedy and drama, while keeping it humor-focused at all times. Your story is yours but when my book was starting to sound a lot like The Girls by Emma Cline minus the ABSOLUTE LITERATURE of it (arguably the best thing about The Girls), my mom was like "this not you, girl, what are you doing?" And that was MY MOM, not some random people on the Internet who are a small portion of the people who put food on my table (hopefully, heh -pay writers better, bitches >:(-). Like, dude, you're in your 40s, how can you be this petty?

At the end of the day, it was just petty. It read like fanfiction a troll would write. And they can try to gaslight us into buying it was actually such a smart move and amazing writing, but we know the truth. "We've thought about six possible endings for Guillermo's arc and haven't decided on one", "We kind of just come up with things that might be funny and work them into an episode"; things being said about a show one its fourth and fifth season. Absolutely valid, of course, but you can just admit you bit more than you could chew and wanted an easy way out. We get it, it's your job, do whatever you need to get that (far too small) paycheck, but don't put a "subversive" label on it and call it a perfect ending.

And if you're so willing to disrespect your fanbase or convince them they were watching a completely different show mere three years ago, for fuck's sake, commit to the bit and at least make it entertaining. Characters just spelling out things that are going to annoy the fans or prove to them it was silly to care about the shit and fart show for half and hour? THREE TIMES? Dude, you can be more subtle, media litecary's been dead for a while now. It's not unfunny in the sense that it's offensive; rather it was offensive how deeply unfunny it was. How can you manage to be this dishonest while doing everything in your power to make yourself seem even more dishonest??? smh

[stellar-solar-flare]

A Cornucopia for You!

Steve Rogers; friends to lovers, idiots in love, competency; fluff

🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕

You lucked out having a friend as good as Steve. After all, he’d been by your side for as long as you could remember, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that he jumped to fix your car when you complained to him about how expensive everything was going to be, especially since you’d finally just gotten your own place that was shaping up to take a nice chunk of change from your paychecks.

What you couldn’t remember, though, after years of friendship, was the moment where spending time with Steve started giving you butterflies in your stomach. When movie nights with your best friend shifted to you hoping he would reach out for your hand, or make some type of move. Surely, if he was bold enough to get into fights before his body had grown into the hulking stature with its head under of the hood of your car currently, he’d be bold enough to act accordingly if he shared your feelings. So you assumed he didn’t and tried to shove yours down, quite unsuccessfully.

It was made so much worse by your view right now, as you swung your feet while sitting on the end of his work bench after hours in the mechanic shop. The muscles of Steve’s back rippled as he tightened… something, explaining what he was doing using a bunch of jargon that you couldn’t care less about, but you loved watching how good he was at fixing things. Plus, you were just happy to spend time with him, and you’d take it in whatever form you could get.

And then he turned around, and the view was even more enrapturing. Blond strands, a little sweaty in the best way, flopped over his forehead, and old white tee stretched taut across his firm chest, exposed by his folded-down cover-alls. You were millimeters away from drooling, watching his pink lips moving, and yet you couldn’t hear a thing until…

“Muffin? Muffin. You good?”

You shook your head to regain consciousness, swallowing the lump you didn’t realize had formed in your throat. Steve was approaching you. Gosh, even the way he walked was so sexy. Your heart picked up and his hand reached out towards yours, just for it to grab a beer on the table next to you: your payment to him for fixing your car tonight—a six pack to share between the two of you. Even as he sipped, he kept his eyes on you, expectant for an answer. The one your body gave was an instinctual squeeze of your thighs together.

Your voice was strained as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and responded to him.

“Y-yeah. I’m good.”

He raised a brow as he set his bottle back down. “You sure?”

All you could do was nod, and be glad Steve didn’t push it farther. He held out a hand and flashed that beautiful smile at you, and you placed your palm in his to get down from the bench.

“Good, like I was saying, I have something I want to show you.”

He led you over to the car, putting a wrench in your hand and gesturing to something you couldn’t make out. This was foreign territory to you.

“Now, any time you get in trouble, of course you can call me, but if you’re in a real jam, you’ve gotta tighten this.”

You still had no idea what ‘this’ was referring to, and in your stillness, you felt Steve come up behind you to grab your wrist, guiding you where to put the wrench and helping you tighten it, causing you to almost go stiff. But again, all you could focus on was the way his body was pressed up against yours. So hard, yet so, so soft in the best way, making your breath hitch. If this was how nights were gonna go, you couldn’t hold it in much longer.

“Steve, I can’t do this.”

He stopped his movements, his grip that was guiding your hand loosening, “Do what? Fix your car? I was just trying to give you some small tips.”

You turned around, suddenly even more affected by the way he caged you in against the vehicle and shook your head. “No. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t drive me crazy when you’re pressed up against me like this. When you take care of me like this. The fact that I want it all to mean more than being friends but you don’t fe-“

Suddenly you were cut off by his lips against yours, Steve wanted to pull your hips against his so badly, but he didn’t want to get the grease from his hands on your clothes. So instead, they clung to your car, his mouth dancing with yours while his mind swirled, making him dizzy as he wondered how he had never noticed that you were pining after him as much as he was for you. Because the fact was, he offered car repairs, something he’d hardly done off the clock for even Bucky, just for a little more time by your side, happy if that was all he could get since he thought you’d only think of him as a friend. And boy was he wrong.

@bigtreefest Essie you are the absolute bestestest ever!! Thank you so much for this.

First of all, I am so sorry that me responding to this beautiful thing took me over a week! Holiday insanity + other stuff going on, and I wanted to give this the attention and the brain space it deserves, as it is made for me and I am so grateful.

Also the THINGS this did to me, my goodness gracious me. (fans self). I am an absolute sucker for a man that can do traditionally manly stuff like fix things. It just gets my cavewoman brain going like 'Mmmm, he takes care of me...' so this was an absolute treat.

What you couldn’t remember, though, after years of friendship, was the moment where spending time with Steve started giving you butterflies in your stomach.

This seems so natural to me, as they have been friends for a long time. And LOL, I mean, Steve IS a bold man but he's also a dumbass in some ways, and I feel like a part of him never forgot how his attempts at dating were shot down when he was still pre-serum (or pre-growth spurt here) Steve.

The muscles of Steve’s back rippled as he tightened… something, explaining what he was doing using a bunch of jargon that you couldn’t care less about, but you loved watching how good he was at fixing things.

This is a straight-up murder of a thirst trap, and I'm not even mad about it. Honest to god, the back and shoulders are the most attractive part of a man. And the rest of his descrpition! I'm not blaming her for drooling.

He held out a hand and flashed that beautiful smile at you, and you placed your palm in his to get down from the bench.

We love a gentleman, oh yes we do. This is like a modern version of him helping her out of a carriage, and I am swooning.

The dam break! It is absolutely beautiful, and I love all sorts of 'yes we are doing an activity but my god are we not focusing on anything but how we're TOUCHING' scenes, and this was a beautiful edition. The tension was really there, and I could feel everything she was feeling too. You wrote their interactions very well; it was so easy to see and hear and feel.

So instead, they clung to your car, his mouth dancing with yours while his mind swirled, making him dizzy as he wondered how he had never noticed that you were pining after him as much as he was for you.

What a lovely, lovely piece of idiots in love. And LOL, I can just imagine Bucky being all grumpy about "Well, if you're just friends with her, then you can fix my car for free too?"

My goodness, this gave me the most wonderful fuzzy feelings and filled my stomach with butterflies. Thank you SO MUCH for writing this for me, you are amazing.

[honeydixonn]

Back to Friends, Myung-Gi

one, salesman

2042 words

summary

Ha Nari had always believed that the night she spent with Myung-Gi wasn't just a moment between friends. It felt like something deeper—an unspoken connection, an act of longing and love. In her heart, she thought that they might become something more. But when Myung-Gi disappeared without a word after his crypto investment failed and he lost everything, that hope shattered. Every text she sent, every call she made, every letter she wrote—none were answered. It was as if he had vanished off the face of the earth, leaving nothing but silence in his wake. She was left to wonder if it had all been a figment of her imagination.

She needed answers. Why had he left without an explanation? Was it because of what happened between them? Had it all been a mistake from the beginning? The questions haunted her, gnawing at her every waking moment.

As the months passed, Nari's situation worsened. The money she had left after her failed attempt to follow him into the world of crypto ran out. Her debts piled up, and with no way to move forward, she grew desperate. She used the last of her savings in a futile attempt to find him, following every lead, every whisper, hoping to understand what had driven him to abandon her and everything they had shared.

But hope seemed like a distant memory, and as the weight of her mounting debt crushed her spirit, she was ready to give up. That was when a salesman appeared at her feet, offering her the chance to play a game. He promised it would change everything—an opportunity to win enough money to replace the life she had lost, to fix what had been broken. What she didn't know was that this game would lead her straight back to Myung-Gi, to the man who had disappeared without a trace, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Unknowingly, she was about to step into a world of uncertainty, where the past would collide with the present and force her to confront the man who had haunted her thoughts for so long.

The bold, red negative number glared at her from the screen, the phone's glow casting harsh light on her tear-streaked face. Nari stared at the figure: negative two million won. Her hands trembled as the reality set in. Her bank account was empty—no, worse than empty. The endless automatic bill payments had drained every last won she had.

Her credit score? She didn't even dare check.

Tears welled up in her eyes as her breath hitched, each gasp echoing the ache in her chest. All of this—this suffocating debt and misery—was because of someone who hadn't even had the decency to say goodbye. Myung-Gi. The man she once trusted had vanished without a trace, leaving her to clean up the mess he'd made.

And then came the others. The ones Myung-Gi had swindled with his flashy promises and bogus cryptocurrency scheme, Dalmatian Crypto. Broke and bitter, they had come for her.

Nari didn't understand how they knew about her connection to him, but they knew. Three men had shown up at her door, demanding restitution for their losses from MG Coin. And when she explained she didn't have the money, they gave her no choice.

For six agonizing months, they bled her dry. Every paycheck, every tip, every single won she managed to scrape together went to them. If she didn't deliver the payment on time, their threats would escalate, forcing her to give up even the small savings she set aside for food.

Her life was no longer her own. She lived in constant fear, moving from couch to couch, staying with anyone kind enough to take her in for a night or two. The weight of it all crushed her, and yet, if someone asked her if she hated Myung-Gi for abandoning her, her answer would sting even more than the debt.

Because, despite everything, she still loved him.

Every sleepless night, she worried. Was he dead in some back alley, taken out by the same men who now tormented her? Was he hiding, suffering, just like she was? All she wanted was one last conversation. An explanation. A chance to forgive him face-to-face.

But forgiveness wouldn't erase the 83 million won she now owed. And it wouldn't change the fact that she was sitting alone on a cold bench in a crowded metro station, trying to disappear in plain sight.

The station was her only refuge tonight—too public for the men to find her, let alone hurt her. She sighed, holding the power button on her phone until the screen went black, the glow disappearing from her face. Her head fell back against the wall as the distant murmur of footsteps and chatter filled her ears.

Then came a soft tap on her shoulder.

Nari's eyes snapped open, meeting the warm smile of a man dressed in a sleek gray suit. His polished briefcase rested by his side.

"Hello, miss. May I have a word with you?"

She blinked, her exhaustion clear. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any money," she replied sincerely, assuming he was trying to sell her something.

His smile didn't falter. "Oh, I'm not here to sell anything. I was wondering if you'd like to play a quick game of ddakji."

Nari frowned. Ddakji?

The man opened his briefcase, revealing stacks of neatly folded red and blue squares of paper alongside bundles of cash.

"Each time you win," he said, "I'll pay you 100,000 won. " He grinned back at her.

He watched the way her eyes flickered between him and the money, how her lip was taken between her teeth as she traveled into thought.

He noticed the short black dress she wore that complimented her makeup well. If she wasn't a client he might've asked her to accompany him at dinner.

"So, you would pay me... to flip your ddakji?" He chuckled at her expression, pulling 10,000 won from the briefcase.

"Hard to believe, but yes. I'll even give you 10,000 won to start. Sound fair?" Nari nodded her head as she gently took the money from his hand, bowing her head in thanks as she put it in her hand wallet.

"Shall we?" The salesman stood, extending his callused hand out to her with a gentle smile.

She placed her hand on his standing from the bench as she straightened herself out. "How about you play first, darling? Pick the color you'd like." Nari took the blue ddakji from his hands and followed him a few steps away so they could play.

She hesitated, her gaze darting between the paper squares and the crisp bills. Her lips parted, her teeth catching her lower lip in thought. It was absurd. And yet, 100,000 won was more than she'd seen in months.

"I'll have you know I'm fairly well at ddakji," she said finally, her voice laced with playful curiosity. The two moved from the bench, a more spacious area for the children's game.

What began as a harmless game soon spiraled into something darker.

At first, the man kept his promises, handing her money each time she successfully flipped his ddakji. But when he won a round, his demeanor shifted.

"If I win," he said with a sly grin, "you'll pay with your body."

Nari froze, her breath hitching as her smile vanished. "Excuse m—"

Her protest was cut short by the sharp sting of his hand striking her cheek.

"I don't play for free," he said casually, as if the slap were just part of the game.

She stared at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Every fiber of her being urged her to walk away, but the crushing weight of her empty wallet and overwhelming debt rooted her to the spot. Desperation had a way of drowning out reason.

As she began to bend down to pick up the ddakji, his hand gently stopped her. "You're wearing a dress. Allow me—I'm still a gentleman, miss." He offered her a polite smile, crouching down to retrieve the blue ddakji. With care, he dusted it off before holding it out to her.

By the time their game ended, Nari had earned 510,000 won—but at the cost of her dignity and a cheek burning red with humiliation.

As she sat on the bench, attempting to conceal the marks with her makeup, the man leaned in closer.

"You know," he began, "there are bigger games you can play. Games where you could make far more than this."

"I'm not sure..." The salesman stood from his seat looking down at her with false sincereness in his eyes. "Miss. Ha. You are currently paying back debts that aren't yours. Your name is Ha Nari." Her eyes widened as his name was spoken from his lips.

Had they found her again?

Before she could speak he continued telling her information.

"You're twenty-seven years old. You studied at Ewha Womans University. You currently work at Jungsik Seoul as a hostess. You're paying back the debts of a few men who lost money from following MG Coin, a channel by a friend of yours. You work day to day to pay the men off with nothing left for you."

Nari shakily stood from the bench staring him in his eyes as she stepped back from his reach. "How do y- Who are you?" He smiled back at her as if the situation was humorous for him.

The man pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her. It was tan with black lettering, marked only by a triangle, square, and circle.

"There's an opportunity waiting for you," he said. "Think it over."

Before she could question him further, he walked away, leaving her with nothing but the cryptic card and a gnawing sense of unease.

Later that night, as she walked back to the place she was staying, her mind raced. The card burned in her wallet like a secret too heavy to carry.

She pulled out her phone, staring at the wallpaper—a photo of her and Myung-Gi during happier times. Her throat tightened, tears threatening to spill again.

"I'll fix this," she whispered, dialing the number printed on the back of the card.

173-333.

The dialing tone rang in her ear as she placed the phone against her cheek. "Hello, who's calling?" A man's voice filled her ear, yet it wasn't the same as the salesman from earlier.

"Oh, is this the man from the metro?" She waited for an answer yet she was provided with instructions instead. "Do you wish to participate in the game? If you'd like to participate, please state your name and date of birth."

Nari took a sharp breath before clearing her throat. "Ha Nari, April 24th, 1993." She heard breathing on the other end of the phone as it filled the silence.

"Details have been sent to your phone. Follow the instructions. Say the password upon arrival."

When the call ended, her phone buzzed with a message containing the location.

Twenty-five minutes later, she stood trembling on a desolate street corner. A silver van pulled up beside her, its window rolling down to reveal a masked figure in a pink suit.

"Ha Nari?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"Password?"

"Red Light, Green Light," she whispered.

The van door slid open, and she climbed inside and into the back away from the man, the sharp hiss of gas filling the air before darkness consumed her.

She should have never made the call.

[mybeautifulwifegojo]

*bursts through the door, sweating and shaking* y'all Goodnight Moon on youtube uploaded her third sapphic vampire video and it gave me All The Vampy Romance Feels

Yuji is a tired 20yo who used to be a star athlete but around high school he lost interest, and then his grandfather died, and he had to drop out and work to support himself

he moves to Tokyo and starts working nights at this club, The Shrine, that only caters to a very select portion of the wealthy of Japan. he's just a busboy at first, but then one day the bouncer just doesn't show up for work, and some asshole clearly on drugs tries to start shit with the bartender, and Yuji likes his coworkers thank you very much so he just beats the shit out of the guy and throws him out

Yuji does not think anything of this until the next night, when he's called in by the owner of the club: Ryomen Sukuna, who just wants to have a chat as to how the hell he did that.

he's thrown because Sukuna looks like a meaner, more buff version of his dad, but surely that's a coincidence. His boss and his father aren't related, surely.

(they are. Sukuna did not devour his twin in utero in this world; instead, after becoming a vampire, he took to guarding his twin's line, and Yuji is the last of their family. Sukuna is. hmm. conflicted.)

('cause see, on the one hand, this boy is the last drop of his own brother's line. on the other, he's a disrespectful little brat with no fear, who just the previous night defeated an elder vampire in a fistfight. that shouldn't be possible, and yet it happened.)

Yuji is very confused when his boss, who clearly hates him, decides to promote him to the security team. but hey, bigger paycheck!

After a while of this, he runs into Megumi, who mistakes him for a vampire and tries to kill him; but then when Yuji is totally unaffected by silver, salt, or holy objects, Megumi is embarrassed and decides he must be a thrall, instead. Because what normal person would willingly work at Tokyo's premier vampire hotspot??

Megumi tells Satoru, one of the very few hunters who is also a vampire--he was born that way, instead of being turned later in life. Satoru is intrigued, and hits up The Shrine to see the kid in action.

some form of meetcute ensues, probably during which someone gets punched and Satoru goes "oh he's like, strong and adorable and hot. oh, I'm not surviving this with my dignity intact."

Yuji of course is an oblivious sweetie and doesn't realize Satoru is flirting with him.

Sukuna hates Satoru already but now he's caught between "We need to keep this uneasy alliance between vampires and hunters, lest we all become too weak and the werewolves kill us all" and "THAT'S MY BABY NEPHEW YOU CAD"

Yuji doesn't believe in vampires or magic and just thinks everyone is really committed to a bit that hasn't been funny in like six years.

The special grade sorcerers (Yuki, Satoru, Suguru, Yuta) are vampires who hunt supernatural troublemakers along with normal humans, werefolk, kitsune, and even a few oni; Rika-chan is Yuta's first and only thrall and he still feels really bad about that, but she's having fun and being herself as she gleefully hunts monsters for her beloved <3 Yuji ends up with one foot in the vampire underworld and one foot in the world of the hunters, and he can't go fully to either side because he's just a regular dude who fights good.

(not that Satoru and Sukuna ever stop trying to sneakily kill each other so they can "protect" Yuji. it's how they flirt.)

((although I do think this kind of story would be funniest if Sukuna eventually agrees to let Satoru court his nephew WITH YUJI IN THE ROOM and this 20yo modern dude is mortified by these centuries-old vampires talking about his dowry. it's 2021, my dudes!!!! nobody has a fucking dowry anymore!!!!!!))

[postersofleon]

Selfish

After many years of surviving the worst years of her life, [_] is tired and pissed that Leon and Ada have each other. So, in a small moment with Ada, she decided to ask Ada how she manages to keep people in love with her.

content: story with smut

notes: afab, no assigned race to reader and she/her pronouns ; re4 era; leon and reader are best friends, reader is confused but not hateful; ada is a sweetheart to reader; leon and ada aren't dating; implied that reader survived Raccoon City with leon

"I just don't see what Leon sees in you." Once she said it, she felt like a complete dick for saying it. She rubbed her face feeling her blood rushing through her face, "I don't mean it like that." She tried to explain to Ada.

Ada laughed softly, "I'm use to jealousy, honey. It's fine." She flipped her hair back as she looked at Leon's partner.

"That's not what I meant." She muttered again, she looked at Ada and kind of saw what Leon saw in Ada. Ada was an incredibly beautiful woman; her short black hair and those eyes that forced you to see her. But there was confusion approaching her once again, [_] rested her body on a table and looked at Ada. "You two kissed once six years ago, you ended being being liar and wanted to steal the g virus for an obviously bad guy. And you have Leon tied up in your finger. That's like insane." She was genuinely impressed by Ada. Especially that Ada faked her death and appeared like nothing ever happened.

Ada laughed softly again, "I'm not sure if it's an attack or a compliment but thank you?"

"That's what's I mean- you did all that shit and you have Leon still enamored by you. Does this usually happen?" [_] got closer to Ada with a huge wonder in her eyes. Ada laughed again. "This is new." She looked at [_] with the same curious way. The two women looked at each other, both waiting for an answer; Ada waiting for her answer of why [_] isn't jealous and [_] waiting for the answer if this happens.

"This is usually the normal in my life. Men are attractive to mystery, once they know what's wrong..." Ada crossed her arms against her chest, "They get angry or they try to fix you." Ada brushes her hair away from her face. [_] put her hands underneath her chin as she continued to look at Ada. "So, men... men are weak?" She asked slowly.

Now, Ada laughed loudly, "Men are complicated." She said amused from her words. "Leon is a guy who wants to be loved so that's what ties him up to me." [_] rolled her eyes but there was a trace of playfulness in them, "That's dumb." She whispered with a smile. She stood up from the table and stretched her bones. "Like how? He met you six years ago..." She whined softly feeling the bones finally relaxing softly. Her arms returned back to her body.

"I just think the real reason Leon likes you is because you're hot." She said throwing Ada a finger gun towards her. It made more sense that Leon had that idea around Ada; once again, Ada isn't not attractive.

"Leon has to be more complicated than that." Ada said trying to defend Leon but [_] shook her head. "How?" She laughed softly, there was a small pause between the two women as Ada shrugged as her heels clicked on the marble floor. "Leon got the survivor's guilt and the hero complex. It makes sense why he felt guilty about your 'death', but he obviously hurt by something imaginary that happened between you two." [_] said trying to make her point.

Ada looked at [_], "And you? Are you hurt?"

[_] shrugged, "I don't know," She grabbed her knife and started carving the table, "I just... I'm more disappointed that you were a mercenary for bad." She said looking at Ada. She licked her lips and smack them together, "You are doing bad things for a lousy paycheck." Ada smiled lightly at [_]'s words. "You don't hate me?" Her eyes focused on hers, [_]'s cheeks began to burn from the intense stare.

"After all the things I do and did," Ada said, "You don't hate me?" She teased her.

[_] twirled her knife in her hand, "I suppose I do." She admitted, "But I don't know why you are doing this job." Her eyes were completely soft and gentle for Ada, "Or aren't you just like us? Forced to work?"

Ada pursed her lips together as she looked up at the ceiling, "Ugh," She looked at her, "You want things to go in a perfect little box." Ada chewed on her lips as she approached [_], "Forced." She sighed softly. It seemed like she hated those words, "You two were forced but this was my saving grace. This lifestyle saved my life." Ada looked at her with a tiny smile.

Ada's intense stare lowered, "I like you," Ada whispered to [_], "At least you don't try to give me the typical speech of saving me, but you're annoying with that comment." Ada grabbed her knife and began craving the table, "You need to understand this world existed under your nose this whole time. The existence of zombies didn't make it appear, bad people exist and not all of them are forced to exist in that world."

[_] put her chin on the table as she saw Ada's hands, "What are you? Do you enjoy this or didn't have an option?"

"Didn't have one but I don't complain like you." Ada muttered, "I believe I have the right to complain," [_] said bitterly, "I was not meant for this life. I wish I could've died if I knew this is what I had to do."

Ada laughed.

It wasn't the simple laugh that she once heard come from her mouth, it sounded a bit cruel that [_] rolled her eyes. "You say you want to die but you don't know what death is." Ada stabbed the knife to the table causing her jump back, Ada smirked from her reaction. "Aren't you afraid at least a bit?" Ada asked.

"Who isn't?" She remarked, "But I think considering our work, we are scared of the consequences of our deaths. Me and Leon are here to save the president's daughter and you are here for something. None of us want to die but it's not the selfish way."

Ada's eyes narrowed. "Have you done anything selfish?" Ada asked.

"No."

"I have," Ada said with a smile but the smile slowly faded away, "But being selfish has its consequences." She looked at her for a second, "Being selfish," Ada continued, "Unfortunately is part of human nature. You haven't been a human then." And by cue, [_] groans, "What is being selfish in this world?"

She let's out a small chuckle before grabbing her knife, "Letting people die for a paycheck? Being in love with some random girl you met six years ago and now focusing all your energy in saving her and make an excuse that it's because you are good person? Money and sex. That's what fucking makes people selfish- stupid excuses."

"You sound jealous." Ada said.

"About what?" She slapped her hands on her thighs, clearly frustrated- not understanding what Ada wanted from her. "About what?" She approached Ada's face. "Leon is my best friend. He means the world to me and seeing him act like a fool... that's what pisses me off." Ada smiled and touched her arm, it was a gentle touch and [_] hated it. "So, you have never acted like a fool?" Ada asked with a mocking grin in her face.

She pulled away her hand from Ada's, "That's not the point."

"What's the point? [_], you want to be selfish like all of us." Ada said slowly, "You aren't jealous of him and I. You're full of envy that you can't be like us. The most selfish thing you said you wanted was death, and we had too many deaths in this world. Why not be actually selfish?" Ada was being gentle and [_] immediately recognized it. She saw that six years ago when Ada kissed Leon.

"You are just trying to manipulate me." She whispered softly, her eyes rolled as she stood up. "Is that all you do? Just manipulate people with kisses and touches? Six years ago, Leon was the toy you decided to play with, and now that Leon isn't here.... I'm the new chew toy." [_] took a deep breath in. "Be selfish somewhere else. Don't include me in your bullshit."

Ada saw as Leon's partner left the room.

Then, those couple of days passed. No more mission and the president's daughter was saved thanks to Leon's stubbornness and [_]'s anger towards the fight. They were back in American soil, she was taking a long hot shower trying to ease up her tense body. She left the shower room and quickly headed towards Leon, "Hey." She waved politely to Leon. Leon nodded his head, "Hey." They began to walk down the streets, she exhaled softly with a bored expression. These were moments she liked hanging out with Leon, just silent moments between them and they were always peaceful.

"Hey, Leon. Can I ask you something?" She asked him. Leon nodded his head, "Yeah, I don't see why not."

"Do... do you sexually like Ada?"

Leon didn't expect that question, his cheeks turned red, "Why would you ask that?" He turned to see her, "Um, no." He played with his faux blond hair.

"You are lying," [_] quickly said, "You always talk about how Ada broke your heart in Raccoon City. She betrayed your trust and blah blah. You remember more her fake death than Marvin's real death."

Leon sighed softly, "I'm more... pissed, [_]." He replied, he was struggling to use his words properly. "Ada made me realize that horrible people exist everywhere, but you made me realize that good people exist as well." He cleared his throat awkwardly. Her eyes lowered, "So, no?"

"No." Leon said with a small smile. The friends continued to walk until a cab separated them, she entered the cab and waved a goodbye to Leon. Once she was alone, she let out a small exhale through her lips. Her hands rubbed against her face as another shakey sigh escaped. She rested her head on the window as her mind felt like mess.

She thought about Ada and Leon.

Ugh.

Once arriving at her apartment, she sat on her couch still feeling beyond tired; her apartment was lonely still. All the items in her room were things she needed all but things of pleasure. She laid on her couch feeling all her emotional feelings rot inside of her.

Was she broken to live? Ada is right. [_] hasn't been selfish since forever since the beginning of her life. She is always worrying for others... when they are okay. She nuzzled against her pillows and let out a loud groan, she wanted to sleep forever now.

More days passed, she was just laying on her couch not moving and not doing anything else. She tapped her fingers in a small rhythm, her eyes looked at them. First her index, her middle, her ring and pinkie. Then, it was pinkie, middle, index and ring.

Someone knocked on her door, the were the typical Leon's knocks. Soft and polite with a dash of strength. She sat up in her couch, her feet dragged against the ground, "I'm coming." Her hand touched the door knob and indeed there was Leon. "[_], wanna drink?" He forced a smile at his best friend. She rested her body on her door frame, "I rather not. I feel that emptiness inside of me already," A small laugh escaped her throat, "I'll be addicted once it touches my lips." She whispered.

Leon smiled sadly, "That bad, huh?"

[_] nodded her head.

"That sucks." He whispered, his blue eyes went down and smiled back at her. "We'll be at the Blue's bar so if you want to still come." [_] smiled, "Will do." Leon left her alone in the hallway of her apartment. She closed the door and sat down back in her couch; her life is just turning into am endless hell for no reason. Another knock appeared in her door, she didn't recognize the knock, she grabbed her knife and twirled it around. Her breathing was small and focused, making sure the other person won't hear.

"C'mon, I won't hurt you."

Her nose twitched, "Ada?" She didn't lower her knife, "Why are you here?" The agent asked, their knife gently tapped on the wall, but Ada groaned softly to herself. "Don't be stubborn." A small sign of defeat appeared in [_]'s face as she unlocked the door. And there was Ada Wong. Her jet black bobbed hair neatly pinned away her eyes with a golden butterfly pin that she was sure she saw with the merchant. [_] took notice that Ada was in disguise, this isn't the clothes that [_] imagined Ada wore in her free time.

But still, she had her trademarked red color around her neck as a scarf.

Ada smiled and she smiled back.

"Why are you here?" She asked carefully still holding her knife but now away from Ada's view. "I wanted to teach you about being selfish." She entered the apartment. [_] threw her knife on the coffee table, Ada didn't seem to have super intentions.

[_] shut the door behind her, "Meaning?" She was utterly confused. But Ada had her thought settled into something she didn't expect. "I have been checking on you," Ada looked around the empty apartment, "You stay in one place more than Leon does." Ada's brown eyes met the agent, that when [_] realized that Ada doesn't necessarily smile- she misunderstood. Ada smirked and apparently smirked her way to the top.

"I'm tired. I got myself beaten up." [_] shrugged.

The two women looked at each other with that small distance between them. "Tough job." Ada sat down on her couch, [_] took way too much notice of Ada's clothing. Ada's beauty is a curse and they both knew it. "Yeah, I'm guessing your own job is hard as well."

Ada smirked again, her hand gently touched [_]'s hand and slowly pulled her to the couch with her. "Yeah. I'm going to teach you how to deal with the job when it's stresses you out. " Ada whispered softly. [_] closed her eyes trying to ignoring her lust.

She had two types of lust. The one that made hr vulnerable and the one that she used to use during one night stands when she was in college. [_] is trying to control her vulnerable side as Ada's hands rubbed her stomach gently to hold her waist. Her lips met her neck and kissed the agent.

It felt so good to be touched like this.

Shit.

Slowly, her head tilted and Ada found it as a chance to get on top of the agent, her knees were on the both sides of thighs. Ada's lips were on her jaw, her hands traced [_]'s skin gently and cupped her breast. Ada tugged the bra, her hand to cupped the agent's chest and gently scratched the sensitive skin.

The apartment was quiet. All that was heard was small gasping and the kissing Ada gave the neck. Soon, their lips finally touched, Ada cupped the agent's face as she attempted to suck on her lower lip. It was pure desperation as the women tried to hold each other. Ada removed her hand from underneath the shirt to hold her face properly. Ada put her tongue inside of her mouth in attempts to make this kiss last longer.

As [_] was kissed, an alarm came into her mind- Ada is using her. It was so obvious. Why would this beautiful woman kiss her in this manner? Ada had better options than her. She gently pulled away from Ada'a kiss and looked at her. Ada's cheeks were red, her eyes dilated... she needed more. [_]'s hand gently caressed Ada's face, Ada's face was so soft- it seemed to be like Ada was like a fragile doll that you weren't allowed to touch. It was hard to truly know a woman like this.

[_] took a small breath in, "So, now what?" She whispered softly.

Ada smirked but it was much softer than the first ones, "Well, I can give you a small favor." She slowly got herself into her knees as [_] looked down feeing a bit awkward. Ada's hands on the waistline of the sweats and slowly slide the off, [_]'s body tensed up. It had been a while since she had someone between her thighs, Ada's hands slowly took off the panties, "You owe me after this one." Ada gently kissed her thighs, and the kisses were slowly getting closer and closer to that spot.

Goodness, she hasn't even touched herself since she became an agent. [_]'s head tilted back on the couch, the feeling of Ada'a breath so close to there drove her a bit crazy. Her heart was pounding against her chest.

Ada got herself closer and closer until Ada was in the folds. Then, Ada's tongue gently moved around her pussy but completely avoiding the clit. Both of the women's breathing increased, Ada's fingers grabbed her thighs and squeezed them with her finger tips. Ada's tongue flattened and pressed itself completely on [_]'s pussy. It gently touched the clit.

There was no moaning or anything too much. It was just those tiny gasps escaping [_]'s lips. "Mmm..." It was all the escaped her throat.

Ada's tongue flicked over and over on her clit but gently sucking it. Her thighs quickly clenched up to try to keep Ada between her legs, but Ada was stronger as she pushed the legs open again with her hands. "Wait," Ada's voice was a bit hoarse, "I'm not done yet."

Ada's thin yet long fingers opened her pussy and licked the hole. [_] whined softly as her hips buckled against Ada's tongue, Ada's fingers slowly entered inside and pumping them gently in and out. [_] was so wet that they slide in and out without an issue. Ada's tongue was simulating her clit as the fingers pumped in and out.

The agent's breathing was turning into small pants, "Ada, fuck, Ada...." Her voice was whiny, her cunt clenched around Ada's fingers and it was making weaker as she felt Ada going a bit faster. Before she knew it, the agent released her juices on Ada's fingers. Ada moaned softly, "Good girl." Ada whispered softly. Her tongue dragged up the folds and cleaned up the cum, "That was good wasn't it? You didn't even think twice of having a mercenary between your pussy." Ada sat up in the couch, "You needed it so badly, didn't you?"

Ada wanted to tease the poor agent with those cruel words though Ada didn't expect [_] to cup her face. Another kiss where it kept Ada underneath the woman, [_]'s rough hands were on Ada's waist and slowly slid down to Ada's ass. She squeezed her ass gently, Ada was surprised but everything that was happening however in [_]'s mind was clear.

Ada was right.

She did need this.

Fighting those never ending monsters. Being smacked around by them, feeling your body take in all the pain in the world yet no drop of pleasure. No chance to be selfish.

[_] slowly pulled away from Ada's pink lips, "Sorry, I'm just..." Her eyes trailed away, "Tired." Ada smiled. "It happens." Ada whispered softly, her hand gently caressed the agent's face. "So, may I?" [_] asked her.

Ada looked confused at the woman's question, "You what?"

"You said I owed you so... it's my turn."

[theriddlettesblog]

Home Runner, a Team Fortress 2 fanfiction

Chapter 1

Scout sits in the Teufort base’s resupply room, on one of the benches, thinking to himself about the choices he’s made that led up to where he is now.

“Hey, Scout,” Engie begins, walking up to the resting Jeremy who is now looking up at the genius and no longer at his shoes. “Yer soda’s in the fridge if ya need any.” He says gesturing over to the minifridge.

A week prior, Dell had noticed that Scout was out of Bonk again and added it to the shopping list. Demo picked up a case of the carbonated punch, albeit small, when he went to the store. The Scottsman only bought six cans of the soft drink because he wanted to use the majority of his strength and paycheck to bring back the most alcohol he could. The rest of his purchase consisted of three crates of beer for him and Dell to share, three bottles of whiskey for himself, and one bottle of vodka for Heavy which the Russian man drinks much to Medic’s protest with the giant’s health in mind. If Tavish had more arms, he would have gotten more booze, not pop.

“Thanks, Engie.” Scout replies to the builder.

“No problem. Round’s ‘bout to start, so git caffeinated and ready to cap the intel.” The mechanist tells Jeremy, grabbing his wrench and shotgun then leaving the safety of the base.

Jeremy breathes a big sigh then proceeds to gear up, grabbing his favorite hat-headphones combo, scattergun, and swiftly downs one of the half-a-dozen cans of Bonk in the fridge before walking out of the room. Stepping out of the resupply, he straightens the collar of his polo and adjusts his untinted Value of Teamwork prescription Graybanns. The man goes on to cock his scattergun, ejecting an empty shell out of the chamber all while closely observing its descent to the floor. Through his specs, Scout’s gaze is locked on the shell resting on the ground.

“Empty.” The young man says to himself, still staring. A loud gunshot followed by an explosion breaks him out of his trance and he walks onto the ledge Mick often uses as a sniper’s nest. As one would guess, the New Zealand native is indeed there, scoped in and carefully searching for a head to liquidate.

“Joinin’ the fight now, Scout? ‘Bout time, we need a fast recovery, heh heh.” Sniper says, taking a moment to unscope to ask and chuckle at his own jab.

“You got it, Mick.” Scout responds, unenthusiastically and without looking at the other assassin. The runner jumps down off the ledge, trying his best to keep his balance after landing. Before he gets a chance to look up at the other side of Teufort, his Bottle Cap’s headset starts buzzing.

“Scout?” Pauling asks, gaining the speedster’s attention, “Before you say anything, or if you are saying anything, stop, I’ve got a contract for you.”

“Sure.” Jeremy answers, without any shock from the fact that this is the first time Miss Pauling has said anything to him in months.

A moment of silence goes by before Pauling breaks it. “Are you not going to say anything else?” the woman asks, confused that Scout is not shamelessly embarrassing himself nor reciting a used pick up line that won’t work on her, or anyone, for that matter.

“No?” Jeremy asks back, not understanding her confusion with his lack of idiocy.

“Oh, okay, uh, I just need you to kill a few Pyros and you’ll get a new weapon skin, well, new to you, not actually new, Minimal Wear at best.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Scout quickly replies before hanging up without another word between them. He sighs again and jumps into the water between the two bases, heading into the BLU team’s sewers.

As he makes his way through the water, he begins thinking to himself again, about something that’s been tugging at the back of his mind for the past few weeks. For those past few weeks, Scout hasn’t been able to shake an odd feeling, a feeling that was unusual and unfamiliar to him. It was a feeling that bogged down his cockiness and made him more tame as well as fade into the background. It prevented him from being the loud showy kid from Boston, but rather, made him quiet which everyone on his team noticed, but no one batted any eyes toward. Not even Jeremy himself noticed he was acting a little out of the ordinary, he just went about flanking every Soldier and Heavy that was unfortunate enough to not notice the skinny guy with the shotgun coming up behind them.

Why he’s been feeling this way for this long was unknown to him, usually, it takes three cans of the atomic punch to lift his spirits and he’s right back to being the most annoying shotgunner on the field. But for some reason, no matter how much pop he chugs, he can’t get out of this fog. Jeremy almost has half a mind to ask Medic about his atypical string of emotions, but he rationalizes the thought by realizing that the mad Doktor will either write it off as nothing or perform some kind of procedure that wouldn’t change anything except his number of exotic hamster kidneys. Scout is brought back to reality when he hears the Administrator exclaim that his team’s intelligence has been taken.

“Scout!” Engie calls out to Jeremy on his headset. “A Spy’s taken the intel! He’s goin’ through the sewers! Meet ‘im halfway and blast ‘im to hell!”

“On it.” Scout replies, once again, unenthused while rolling his eyes. He heads out the few feet he made it into the BLU base and swims across to the sewers of his own. He stands guard at the entrance out of the sewer system, waiting for someone, RED or BLU to enter his sight. Several moments pass by with absolutely nothing coming into his view.

“Crap, he’s probably invisible.” Scout says to himself, trying to listen for sloshes in the water. Several more moments pass by without a single break in the silence.

Scout gets tired of waiting so he presses the button on his headset, “Engie? Did that Spy leave the base?”

“Not with the intel, he dropped it and vanished. But we got theirs.” As soon as the Texan finishes that proud statement, The Administrator’s voice comes over the intercom and congratulates the REDs for capturing BLU’s intel.

“Come on back,” Dell begins again, “we got three cases ‘a beer so one fer everyone who’s not an alcoholic bomb maker.”

“Sweet.” Scout breathes out without cracking a smile, keeping the same face as when he first called. Before moving his feet, Jeremy lets his arms fall to his sides and then slowly makes his way into the main part of his team’s base.

When Scout re-enters the resupply room, he sees all of his teammates celebrating with beers in hand, save for Tavish, he has three in each. Before anyone could realize Jeremy was there, he grabs the tiny case of soda out of the fridge and heads home for the night.

Home, for Scout, is a small rundown apartment complex just outside of downtown Teufort which he would be more than overjoyed to move out of and find a nicer place, but seeing how the Administrator docs and suspends his pay for mouthing off to her, what he does make barely covers the costs of his ammunition. The building is curated by an elderly blind man named Talor who rocks a tricked out wheelchair, is shockingly modest, but most importantly, is kind to Scout. Jeremy is Talor’s only tenant but he keeps the power and water running for him as the speedster has nowhere else to go. Scout makes a silent entrance into his room, trying his best to not let anyone know he returned home; though Talor is very warmhearted, Scout doesn’t need anything to further complicate his day.

The light-footed sprinter tosses his cap and glasses onto his dinner (coffee) table before finishing off the last five cans of Bonk he took from work. He throws off his shoes, pants, and shirt and nearly collapses into the pullout couch he uses as a bed. After three hours of dreamless sleep, buzzing comes from his resting headset. This awakens Scout and in a half-asleep daze, gets up and brings the single headphone to his ear after laying back down on the throw pillow he uses as a regular one.

“Yeah?” Scout asks, mildly annoyed, but too tired to care, that someone is calling him in the dead of night.

“Scout? It’s Pauling.” the purple-shirted secretary answers the speedster.

“Miss Pauling? Look, it’s late, I gotta be up at six tomorrow, I don’t got time for another contract.” Scout tells her with only one eye open, locked on one of his many mold-ridden walls.

“No. Scout, this isn’t about a contract, though, you didn’t complete my last one so either way it wouldn’t be. Uh, anyway, I was just calling to ask why you left work early. You usually never pass up an opportunity to show off your weird dance moves.” Pauling inquires, trying to piece together the answer to this mystery.

“I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.” Scout answers, scratching his head which is still laying on his pillow.

“Engie says you haven’t been feeling it at all.” Jeremy’s half-shut gaze squints even further. The young woman continues, “I’m just a little concerned is all. I know we haven’t been talking a lot lately, and people’s lives tend to move on whether or not they keep in touch.” Pauling says, trying not to let her voice crack under the weight of her words. Jeremy sits up in his cot, looking down at his half-blanketed body.

Without anything else to say, he simply replies, “I’m still doin’ okay. Thanks for the call, Miss Pauling, goodnight.” and with that, Jeremy hangs up, allowing the mountain of guilt resting on his back to force a breath out of his lungs. He then slips back into sleep.

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

Next

Masterlist

[b0rtney]

you want homosexuals in every conceivable scenario?

Boy oh boy do i have the substack for u: mine!

NO PLEASE LEMME TELL U THE STORIES BEFORE U LEAVE--

Current is Cinnamon Muffins. TLDR: Six queer boys in a homophobic tiny town in Iowa are trying to survive winter break dodging awful parents, social stigma, and mental health crises.

Next up is How to Get Away with Marriage. TLDR: Guy with awful, religious parents marries guy who is living paycheck to paycheck so they can both get all their younger sisters out of their shitty situations (but they fall in love ofc).

Longer desc of these plus the stories coming in the next months are below the cut! (Genres include fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, mystery/thriller, coming-of-age)

Cinnamon Muffins centers on Taylor Macready, a homeless senior in high school holed up in a sleeping bag under a bridge after his parents kicked him out. He's fully ready to just accept death when it starts snowing on him while he's stargazing, but social outcast Wes Post is taking his nightly walk in a new direction and stumbles (literally) on his longtime crush, Taylor. Dragging Taylor home, Wes's parents prove themselves the only reasonable parents in this book by setting Taylor up on their pullout couch and nursing him back to health. Then Wes, whose closest school relationships include the kids who bully him for his anxiety-related speech impediment, has to get in touch with Taylor's friends to let them know the situation. Meanwhile, the mean girls of Swisher High School are starting a campaign to get homosexuality banned at school. Administratively, it gets nowhere, but it inspires several small-minded shitwads to take matters into their own hands. While Taylor is used to getting into fights, Wes isn't, but he'll have to sink or swim, because the teachers are not paid enough to care what happens in the hallways during lunchtime.

How to Get Away with Marriage opens with Luke Providence, son of a devoutly Baptist family in Nebraska, proposing to Patrick Demden, son of a recently-deceased alcoholic mechanic. The wealthy Providence parents have a longstanding agreement that once their children get married, they will receive a trust of $100,000 to use on the down-payment of a house and to start a life with their spouse. Patrick's younger sister tutors Luke's younger sister, but Patrick's sister is 16. This age gap doesn't matter much to the Providence parents, but it matters a lot to Luke, so he strikes a deal with Patrick: tell the parents he'll marry the sister, legally marry the brother, everyone gets to move to Colorado and escape abusive religious parents and crushing poverty. He needn't have done something so elaborate, Patrick would have married him for any reason at all. But the secret doesn't stay secret forever, and the Providence parents eventually come knocking, trying to recollect their children and their money.

Future stories I'll keep shorter, but feel free to ask about them either in the replies or my askbox and I'll elaborate!

Assassin x Demon King will be getting books 2 and 3! ADK is about an assassin and the king he was supposed to kill, both of whom have quit their jobs and started trying to save as many people as the assassin killed before he dies of a slow-acting poison in twelve months. Books 2 and 3 will have things getting awfully tragic and somewhat more horny than before! (No smut will make it into the print versions of these, that will remain on my substack alone)

How to Find Your Friends After the End of the World is a fantasy inspired by the isekai anime genre. Five friends in their 20s are on earth as it is wracked by a violent battle between the Heroine of the Gods and her Nemesis, and then, suddenly, they aren't. Earth has been destroyed and they are now on a new planet, in new (non-human) bodies, strewn across continents! On their new wrists, they have tattoos with each others' names, plus one (or two) new ones: their soulmates. Court politics and wastelands of monsters await them as they try desperately to reach each other, and their soulmates try desperately to reach them.

HtFYF will also have a prequel, focusing on the events that led to earth's destruction, and the battle between the Heroine of the Gods, a young woman, and her Nemesis, who seems to know more about the gods than she says. Why do the gods keep choosing such young heroes? What has the Nemesis done to put the world in such peril? Will the Heroine get to graduate on time despite the sleep she's been missing!?

The following do not yet have titles, but are fully fleshed out works ready to be thrown onto Substack:

A trilogy of eleven teens assisting in the fight against an agency that traffics, tortures, and then sells children with preternatural powers and abilities, and an exploration of the trauma those kids emerge with.

A murder mystery where a woman's sister dies, the police rule it suicide, and the woman enlists the help of a rumored contract killer to help her solve the murder-- but why does this rumored murderer-for-hire seem to know so much about her sister's death? And who was truly responsible?

A campy novel about a woman who graduates college, goes back to her hometown, and finds her highschool crush is still there, still single, and has since come out as gay. Of course, the only solution is to co-adopt an at-risk child from a neighbor.

This post will remain pinned on my profile, but for the next few days I'm having a sale on my substack tiers-- 20% off! That makes the cost to you just $8 per month to get a chapter every other day. 15 chapters for $8; that's a steal!