#this only took like an hour fyi

[mothpendragon]

POV Mei storming up to Heaven to save MK

I’m sorry @kyri45 but when I saw how enraged Mei was in the update this was the first thing I thought of

Minor swearing warning I guess *shrugs*

[roxannepolice]

[whrfchnn]

୨⎯ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰-𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ⛧

Pairing : Bangchan x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings : 18+ !! CNC, videotaping, somnophilia, established relationship, reader is under a consented medical induced sleep, daddy kink, using readers hand to jerk off, praise, name calling (princess to whore), breeding kink, not proofread, uhh lmk if I missed anything.

Mona’s notes : In honor of my man’s birthday and my blog turning one year old today, here’s a fic I put together last minute. Please heed my warnings, this fic may be dark and sensitive to some, I have two other birthday fics for Chan that I’ll post later but just an fyi, one of them is dark and the other is just fluff! I hope you enjoyed this fic, reblogs are appreciated <3

He couldn’t sleep, he was counting down the seconds until the clock on the nightstand hit 12am. Bangchan knew as soon as it did, you were his. Your body was his to play with for the day. It was his birthday after all, and you generously gave him the go to do whatever he wanted. This has been a tradition between you two for the past 3 years, not just on his birthday, but yours too.

Every year on your respective birthdays, for 24 hours, the celebrated individual was allowed to have their way with the other. Where ever, when ever, and how ever. And the other couldn’t say no. Chan, the cheeky bastard that he was, loves to videotape these activities so he can look back on them and plan for next year’s to be just as good if not better.

You were under a sleep induced medication so there was no way you’d wake up to his hands stroking your clit, or his dick smearing his cum onto your lips.

So as soon as the clock illuminated the bright red 12am, his hands were on you.

He took his time, he had 24 hours after all, his hand glided over your stomach, gripping your bundles of joy with love and devotion. His sweet pouty lips were laying wet desperate kisses behind your ear, whispering sweet nothings that flew past your unconscious self but were picked up by the camera at the foot of the bed.

The thin silk nightgown you were wearing complimented the dips in your body, with nothing underneath, Chan's hips desperately rubbed against your ass, some of his precum smearing onto your lower back. Another perk that came with sleeping naked.

His hands went from your stomach down to cup your cunt, even in your sleep you were wet. The sweet sounds from your pussy only got louder the longer he played with you, his finger doing tight circles on your clit, dragging his hand lower to your opening, slipping his middle and ring finger in just a bit to hear that sweet squelch before going back to your clit and repeating this action again. “So wet and perfect for me aren’t ya pretty girl”

He put the same two fingers he used to play with you into his mouth, tasting your delicious essence that only made his dick throb harder, “And so fucking tasty, all for daddy right? Yeah, it’s all for me”

Chan took hold of your wrist, and positioned your hands to wrap around his dick, he tightened your grip on him and mimicked your movements as if you were giving him a handjob. His hips lifted off the bed in a desperate thrust each time you reached his sensitive tip. He has a high stamina but the build up to this special day was enough to have made him cum just a few strokes in. His warm cum oozed down to your hand, basically lathering them like lotion.

Chan laid your cum lathered hand on the bed and sat up on his knees near your head, his dick was still rock hard with his warm cum drilling from his tip which he put to use. He held your head in one hand while the other guided his dick to smear his cum on your lips as if it were lipgloss. “You’ll be tasting me for days princess”

He could just smell your arousal from up there so he positioned himself to lay flat between your legs, maneuvering your thick thighs around his shoulders so your legs were lying limp on his back.

Your breathing was heavy but still deep asleep, Chan internally praised those pills, you were like a doll he could play with right now, no complaints or sounds.

He was right, your pussy was glistening with arousal, he used his nose to nudge one of your lips apart, he could feel your warmth. Your clit throbbing to be touched and worshiped. Chan licked a big slow stripe from your hole all the way to your clit, swearing and moaning your name as he finally got to taste you.

His head followed with the movements of his tongue, eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt you throb against his mouth. His hips rutted the bed, cock still a bit sensitive from his previous orgasm. Chan’s hands were wrapped around your thigh in a way so he could easily reach down to your pussy to pull your lips apart and get even more access to your clit.

The man became cross eyed as you got nearer to your orgasm, his gaze going from your pussy to your chest that was rising and falling faster, he could feel your muscles tense and just as he expected, his mouth was soon filled with your cum, his own orgasm came a second later, his cum getting on his stomach and the bed.

“That’s my good girl yea, good job doll,” Chan’s veiny hands were full of your stomach, squeezing you along with his praises. His body shifted upwards, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips as he positioned his dick at your opening “can you give me one more? Of course you can, you’re just a doll made for me to play with aren’t you? My little whore”

Chan juiced up his dick with your wetness, and teased you by holding your pussy lips together to squeeze your clit and grind his dick over it repeatedly. You were dripping with remaining cum down to your ass and the bedsheets, slick lewd sounds filling the room along with chans soft groans.

Without using his hands, he lifted his hips closer, his tip nudging itself inside your pussy slowly and he watched as your pussy stretched to welcome him, your warm walls so tight it was basically suffocating him and he wanted more. He bottomed out, your lower bodies pressed against each other as his head was tilted back in bliss.

He pulls out slowly, only leaving the head of his dick inside before pushing himself back in. Chan picked up the pace gradually, mesmerized at the sight of your soft stomach and boobs jiggling with every thrust he delivers.

If you were to be watching through the camera, you’d see his tensed muscular back, his hands feeling up on your thighs and hips. If you were to look lower, you’d see and hear his balls roughly smacking against your ass, cum from earlier stretching thin from your body and his with each thrust.

“Fuhckk baby..your pussy feels so good” chan was on the verge of crying, he let your legs go and leaned into you to intertwine your hands, his forehead on yours.

“ ‘m gonna fuck my babies into you, nice and full hmm? Would you like that? Yea you would”

He positioned one knee higher beside you to get even deeper inside of you, he could feel the bulge in your stomach each time he thrusted and it drove him crazy but he wanted you to cum first. He reached down with one hand to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in tight circles.

Chan smiled lazily into your cheek as he felt the tell tale signs of your orgasm approaching. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t let a tear escape his eyes as he felt you cum, even in your sleep you were amazing.

He fucked your through your orgasm, and followed quickly after you, his balls tightened as his thrusts became rigged. He didn’t pull out, a part of him wanted to go through with his promise of breeding you and getting you pregnant but he knew you’d kill him if he did it without you conscious.

The squelching sound that came from your pussy when he pulled out sent goosebumps over his body, he watched as his cum flowed out of you, down your ass and onto the sheets.

“One day I’ll make sure none of it will be wasted princess”

He kissed all over your face and cleaned you up, wiping away the dried cum from your lips and body. He was excited to see your reaction to the tape later on and film even more. After all, it’s his birthday and he had 24 hours to do whatever he wanted with you, wherever, and whenever.

Copyright © 2023 ta3baee ! All fanfics belong to me and only me, I don’t give permission for my work to be translated, published to another site, or copied.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

You have to go see your professional athlete husband play in the championship game: only problem is you're 42 weeks pregnant. You've been having contractions all day, but you tell yourself they're just Braxton Hicks, and you can go to the hospital after the game and have the baby. But once the game starts you can't ignore the urge to push any longer...

Great prompt! Exactly what I was in the mood to write this evening, ty! Hope you like it (fyi written in an hour and very much not edited or checked or read-through lol)

Half-Time Full-Time Baby-Time

Despite being overdue, suffering practice contractions all day, and having a baby nestled deep in my pelvis - I was not going to miss the big game. I’d never missed any of my husband’s matches and I wasn’t going to start now.

Thankfully, as my hubby was a star player on the team I was watching the game from the Executive Box. My parents were supposed to have joined me but they couldn’t make it, so I was on my own in the luxury private suite that had a large window and a glass door overlooking all the action on the pitch below. Inside the room was a fancy dining table with chairs, a mini bar, and a few high stools beneath the tall bench table lining the window so people could sit and drink and eat while watching the game.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to do any of those things. My tight and round belly and the pain flaring in my hips had me pacing around and around the room. Cupping the underside of my bump I breathed deeply through each rising wave.

“Hmmmmm… not now baby, please.” I whimpered.

The practice pains had gotten closer and closer together during the first half. I’d tried to ignore them, breathe through them and walk around to stop the braxton hicks, but they didn’t disappear. They only got worse. Just before the whistle blew at half time my waters broke and I was forced into the realisation this was no false alarm.

But it would be fine; labour took hours and hours and the game would be long finished before we would need to go to the hospital. That’s what I thought.

Midway through the second half I’m standing by the window, my hands clasping the high bench in a white-knuckle grip, my hips swaying side to side. My throat rattles as I release involuntary groans with the constant squeezing and tightening of my belly. The baby felt so damn low… my legs were in a wide stance and my belly hung down off my hips. I was glad to be wearing a lightweight summer dress with the amount I was sweating. I wanted to open the door, to let in a breeze, but I was scared to with the labouring sounds I was emitting. I didn’t want to attract attention and I did not want to go anywhere and miss the game. I would stay here until you were finished and then we would go to the hospital together.

Another contraction rolled across my belly and the pressure built and built towards boiling point. It felt like I was going to explode, to burst, that feeling of fullness paired with an urgency and pressure was becoming too much to handle. My legs started to tremble as I fought against my body’s instincts, a low rumbling roar slipping past my lips.

I leant forward over the tall tabletop, my arms folded on its surface and my head dropped against my arms. My legs were buckling, sinking lower into a squat. The pressure was building, the round and heavy bowling ball of a head was so low… I wanted to push— my body needed me to push—

“Noooo…. Oh god! Don’t- hoooo- don’t push. Just stay in there baby…. Wait for your daddy to f-finish the g-game—mnghhhhhh!!!”

There was no controlling it, the head was getting lower and pressing against my opening. My body was pushing and I couldn’t stop it. More amniotic fluid hit the floor as I pushed, my bare feet standing on the damp carpet.

In between uncontrollable pushes I glanced up desperately and looked at the timer hanging over the pitch. There was still 15minutes to go, plus injury time. Oh god, the baby was not going to last that long. It felt like it was already starting to crown.

With a trembling hand I feel under my dress between my thighs and nearly vomit when I feel the curved surface of the head pressing against my underwear.

“Oh baby, no… you can’t come out yet…”

But my body and mind are not in sync and a second later I’m back to uncontrollably pushing. I sink into a deep squat, my arms stretched high above my head as I cling onto and almost swing from the high rise table.

“Nnnmghhhhh!!!!” I grunt and low, bearing down into my bottom, running completely on instinct. The baby was slipping further and further out, my labia was stretched thin and the burning of a full crown made me howl.

At the same time one of the teams had scored and the stadium erupted with a frenzy of screams and cheers. The crowd’s jubilance was my own encouragement and I gasped a breath and pushed again, hard. My body was shaking head to toe, the burning… the fullness… the desperation for it all to stop… I had to get the baby out, and it had to come out right now. Giving it my all the head popped out dramatically into my underwear and I collapsed down onto all fours.

The game was nearly over and the baby was almost here. I scrambled to pull down my panties before the next contraction hit. I could hear the noises in the stadium, the crowd cheering and chanting, the final minutes being played. Meanwhile the baby was turning inside of me, the shoulders beginning to press and stretch me open once more. When the next contraction hit I submitted to it entirely, rocking forward and back with each push as my body worked hard to birth the babe. I roared and pushed with the final whistle of the match and raised up on my knees, my hands flying between my legs to catch my newborn baby.

“Oh my goodness… hi little one.” I sobbed as I brought the child up to my chest, wiping its face and blowing gently against their cheeks. The newborn gave a cough and started crying and relief and exhaustion took hold. That was when I noticed the crowd around the Exec Box was cheering. I crawled to the door, babe in arms, and awkwardly got back to standing.

Looking out across the pitch I could see my husband’s team had won, all the men jumping and hugging each other. I could spot my husband easily amongst the sea of coloured jerseys.

“That’s your daddy.” I said to the baby.

My husband looked up at the box, knowing where I’d be, and his jaw dropped when he saw me standing at the glass door, a newborn baby wailing in my arms.

[sgiandubh]

Things that make you go hmmm - the Live with Kelly and Mark October 2024 edition

I have long suspected that hostile Anons were, in reality, pre-emptive strikes of sorts.

But never has it been more clear than today.

You can watch C's appearance at the Live with Kelly and Mark Show, in full, here:

Instead of bothering you with convoluted explanations, I took the liberty of clipping the part that made me (and not only me) go hmmm. I will transcribe it for our Spanish girls, who normally use a translator.

It is almost too good to be true and goes to show one can never have 100% control over what one says. Especially when on a packed, tiresome and tedious schedule:

[FYI, this clipped portion's time stamp on the original video is 22:24 - 23:00 - nothing has been altered by me, just extracted with as much context as possible, lest you'd accuse me, or something]

A thing of beauty, indeed (thank God for days off, huh?):

Mark Consuelos (MC): 'And you've recently had a... uhm... a birthday...'

C: 'I did'

MC: 'Yeah... did you guys do anything special?'

C: 'Uhm, I had an amazing day, we were in London and we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before, uhm, so I got to, I went to, my husband took me to an art show, then to a three-hour lunch and then to the theatre.'

Kelly Ripa (KR): 'Oh, that sounds like heaven!'

C:' It was heaven and then his birthday was like five days later and I gave him a card (inaudible- if someone can make something out of it, please step forward, by all means, I feel it's sort of important, in the context). It was....'

[laughter in the public]

KR: 'That's okay. That's alright. You also gave him a son, come on, come on, come on.'

C: 'This is true, this is true. How long can I kind of run on that one?'

MC: 'A long time, a long time'.

KR:' Oh, at least eighteen to twenty-five years.'

C:' Okay, great.'

KR:' Yeah'.

One more time: 'we were in London and we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before'. I mean, this made me stop in my tracks, right?

Who is the 'we' that 'were in London'? The same 'we' who' just wrapped, like a couple of days before?' Did I miss something, here?

Since when was Tony McGill involved in the wrapping of the OL production, mind you? And if not, was it a cast trip, just after 'we' (the cast) 'wrapped, like a couple of days before'? Now that would be perfectly absurd, wouldn't it? The question was about her birthday, an intimate, family moment: why bring a collective we, like a sore thumb, in that context?

In English grammar, 'and' is a coordinating conjunction. It mainly serves to connect two words, phrases or, like in this case, clauses together.

[Source: https://www.learngrammar.net/english-grammar/clauses]

In the phrase ' 'we were in London and we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before ', ' we were in London' and 'we just had wrapped, like a couple of days before' are two independent clauses, connected by a coordinator, 'and' (coordinating conjunction). Therefore, the first 'we' and the second 'we' logically refer to the same persons.

Exactly like in the following example:

'I heard her saying this and I just had to stop in my tracks, almost in disbelief'. LOL

This grammar lesson has been brought to you for free, courtesy of Sgian-dubh, Inc.

I rest my case.

PS: ' I got to, I went to, my husband took me'. Enough said. Bless her heart, she is still a very lousy, unconvincing (yet very endearing) liar.

[weirdmorefics]

Could you pls do a fake dating fic with Colin bridgerton? Tysm xx

A Life Long Scheme

A/N- Sorry for the delay! I really do have the fanfiction writer curse! I say that every time but I mean it! I got my appendix out and rode in an ambulance. They don't even play music in them FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 2,512

Summary- You convince Colin to fake court you to gain the attention of other suitors but jealousy consumes Colin.

I knew I would have a hard time finding a suitor from a young age. My family may be wealthy enough to attend balls but certainly not enough for a sizable dowry for each of their children. I grew up competitive trying to prove myself worthy even if I came with a small dowry. My siblings relied on their looks but I was determined to be the best at everything. I will treat coming out like I do life competitively. As the eldest, I must set an example.

I was lined up with the others coming out into society this year. They all nervously played with their clothes and looked to the floor. I too felt like doing that but I kept my emotions bottled tightly in my chest and held my head high. We all took our turns bowing in front of the Queen she looked completely unbothered by us, dare I say bored.

I was last in line she looked me up and down and said, "I am unsure if anyone qualifies as a diamond this season."

I can't fight back the sharp inhale I take, I can physically feel my heart launch its way into my throat. I feel as if I may hurl as she gets up and walks away escorted by her guards. I look around at others visible shock. I can't help but feel the Queen just left because of me. I mean I was the last one. I need to do something! I can't fail already I just came out into society!

My night was filled with pacing and plotting. There has to be a way to impress Her Majesty. My Mama tried to comfort me but Father quickly told her there was no point in speaking to me when I was like this. I hate to admit but he is unfortunately correct. Once I am in a thought spiral there is no getting out. I thought of other seasons for most of the night as I lay in bed. What did they do to gain the Queen's attention? The most notable season of late would have to be Daphne's. I can't recall the last time The Ton has seen a marriage done with such haste before. She had a massive amount of suitors after her though that was only after The Duke's appearance.

The idea hit me suddenly I launched out of bed, put my carpet slippers on, and ran out of the house. I am lucky my family sleeps so soundly because I am sure I sounded like a horse trotting as I ran through the house. The Bridgerton manor is right next to ours, so close in fact that I grew up playing games with all the Bridgertons. Colin has always been my dearest friend (even though Mama always told me a male friend was improper). I knew Colin would go along with my plan, we have been scheming and pranking since we were children. This should be no different! It unfortunately hit me how late it was when I stood in the darkness of the Bridgerton Garden. I was here now I refused to backtrack just because it was an untimely hour.

I used the bushes to help guide me to Colin's familiar window. Once there I gathered tiny pebbles and started ricocheting them off his window. It did not take him long to wake and open the window with a messy bedhead and a lit lantern. His face instantly flushes at the sight of me.

"My god Y/n what are you doing out here in this state!" He shouts

I follow his gaze to my clothes and feel my face heat. My god, I did not think this through as I stood in front of Colin Bridgerton's window in the dark, in my silk nightgown. I will see this through the damage is done. "I have a plan," I smile.

He sighs and rubs his forehead, "Oh no… you are lucky my sleeping schedule is still askew from traveling abroad. Now get inside before someone sees you!"

I met him in the drawing room and he refused to look me in the eye, "So what is so important that you have decided to grace the house with your presence at this ungodly hour."

"I am here to present you with a proposition," I clasp my hands as he finally looks at my face suspiciously.

"And what might this proposition be? I can assume nothing good," he questions.

I roll my eyes and pace as I recite my plan."As you know Daphne was utterly suitorless during her season courtesy of Anthony. However, the moment a Duke entered the picture she had men competing for hand. They could not care less about Anthony's interventions."

Colin nodded confused, "Your point?"

"My point is I need competition! So I propose that you pretend to court me! If you will? I know you are aware of my Papa's financial situation… I mean the whole ton is after Lady Whistledown published his unfortunate business decisions and his one-too-many daughters for a dowry. None of this will matter if I can get a suitor who loves me and will help my family but that can't be done if I can't attract a suitor!" I continue to pace as Colin looks entirely unsure of what to make of this situation. I take a deep breath, "So what do you say?"

Colin looks at me with puppy dog eyes, "Of course Y/n. You are my dearest friend. I must know why you decided to discuss this so late at night in your…" he flushes again and looks to the ground. "In your nightgown."

I suddenly became all too aware of my attire and became a stuttering mess, "the conversation was of utmost importance the time of day and clothing choices have nothing to do with it!"

Colin smirks, "I see."

"I must save my Papa's business if not for him but for the chance my sisters will get to marry for true love and not for financial gain," I sigh. Colin's eyes which were once teasing turn to sadness, "Do not look at me like that Colin. I don't need your pity, I need your help."

He nods and straightens his posture, "Of course Y/n. Of course, I will help."

I quietly snuck back into the house after speaking to Colin. The plan was set in stone he would be the first dance on my dance card and we would round up potential suitors together. We were joined at the hip for every event and I purposely chose the busiest times to promenade so the most amount of suitors would see us.

I soon began to gain the attention of many suitors and even had many coming to my house to call on me! Mama was so proud I was so happy to take her mind off the situation with Papa.

Mama pulled me to the side of the drawing room, "Maybe hanging out with the Bridgerton boy will help you! Maybe their fortune will rub off on us!" I was proud to inform her I was to promenade in the park today with Colin. It was odd to see her smile with excitement instead of pale at the thought of her daughter spending her time with a man who never planned to court her. I wish she wasn't only proud of me when I wasn't doing something that benefited me in finding a wealthy suitor. It's no matter though, I will do anything to make her proud, and it feels like I'm finally doing it. She spent the whole morning with me to find a suitable dress for my outing.

Colin arrived promptly at the time we set previously and accompanied me to the park. As we promenaded I felt many eyes on us they truly believed Colin would court the daughter of a family barely escaping financial ruin. It is truly almost humorous how easily we have swayed the ton.

"It is truly working Colin! Mother is so proud that I will be the one to save my family's reputation. Such a shame she picked such a layered gown for one of the warmest days of the season," I whisper and fiddle with the seams of my dress.

Colin sighs, "How many suitors are you getting from this Y/n? They can't all have honorable intentions given your beauty and your family's standing."

I roll my eyes, " Why Colin Bridgerton are you jealous? I would not think you are the type. Do not worry you will always be my dearest friend. No husband could replace you."

His face turns serious, "I am just worried. I hope you are doing this for the right reasons and not for the sake of your Mama… and I am most certainly not jealous."

For someone who said he is certainly not jealous he didn't sound quite certain. That, however, is not what distracted me. "You think I want to marry a man not for love but purely for financial gain? It is every woman's dream to marry for love! We can't all have the privilege to do so! Especially one born into a family with a gambling addict for a father and a mother too frail to defend herself. My mother has been preparing me for coming out since I was a child! This is my job as the eldest! To secure a good future for my siblings so perhaps they get the opportunity to marry for love as I will never get to!" I back up as if I may burn from Colin's shocking gaze but I still point a finger at him, "And the fact that you don't already know this Bridgerton is having me question if we ever truly were friends! Perhaps all those travel stories in your head leave not much room for anything else."

I storm away from the Bridgerton, I think after his initial shock he calls for me but my rage prevents me from looking back to see if it was true or a cruel trick of my ears. It was perhaps not the greatest idea to run off from a suitor with no chaperone. Maybe I wouldn't have found myself in such a precarious situation if I had chaperone. I find myself cursing my father in my head for his terrible gambling habits that prevent anyone from wanting to associate with the likes of us. Therefore getting me into this mess in the first place.

"Y/N L/N, we have been watching you for quite some time. Your father never described your intense beauty but how could one put it into words?" The seedy man approached me.

I smiled politely, "Thank you! May I inquire how you know my father?"

"Oh darling I think you know why we are here. I mean the whole ton knows about your father's habits shall we say." He smiles menaceingly and I think to myself of course this has to do with his damn gambling habits.

I back up in case I have to make a quick escape and he unfortunately catches on. He grabs my wrist to keep me in place, "We have been very patient with your father. Given his position in the ton, we thought we could be lenient with his payment schedule. However, it turns out we were mistaken. What is more shocking is the fact that his daughter thinks she has a chance of finding a suitor with no dowry."

"Sir please unhand me," I try to pull away from his grasp.

"You think being in the company of the Bridgertons will help your family situation? Perhaps we could take you as payment? You do draw a lot of attention despite your social ruin. We could use you to bring more men to the establishment," he smiles sinisterly.

I yank my hand away even harder out of fear but his strength still outmatches mine, "Why would I ever help you put more families in financial ruin!"

He laughs, "Darling you think you have a choice?"

His eyes narrow at something behind me and I hear Colin's voice, "I believe the lady asked you to unhand her."

"This does not involve you, sir," he growled.

"You see it is my business when you have your hands on my betrothed, Colin growls back.

My eyes furrowed in confusion. He had been fake courting me of course but we certainly did not discuss a fake betrothal.

The man laughs yet again, "I read in Lady Whistledown that you were courting her but the fact a Bridgerton would sink to the likes of the L/N family."

I took in a shallow breath and Colin growled in response. This situation was going quickly downhill.

"You will not besmirch the lady's name! Now I won't ask again unhand her!" Colin shouts.

"Whatever you say," he smirks and tosses me to the ground. Colin's grimace seems to only encourage the man more, "I'd honestly prefer to use her to replace her father's debt but if you want to drag your family name down with her so be it." He walks away with a peppy jaunt in his step and I glare at him from the ground.

Colin quickly helps me to my feet, "I would have dueled him right here and now if I was not in the presence of a lady."

I brush the dirt off my gown, "It's fine. I'm fine. I will handle it."

"No, you will not! you will not take a step towards that insipid man," he yells.

"Well, Colin you don't really have any choice in that matter! Do you? You are just fake courting me. Or fake betrothing me now? I don't know. I have lost track honestly!" I rant.

His face turns serious, "Y/n I care for you! I would forsake my whole family name for you! You think I do not burn with rage every time I see a new man attempt to call on you after I started court you! I noticed your beauty and your smarts before any of these men did! The fact that they only noticed you once another gentleman entered the picture is disgraceful! I will always notice you Y/n! I will never let your family go through this! I hope to be a love match for you and help your family."

Tears collect in my eyes. As the oldest sibling I've never been the one that was cared for but the one that does the caring. Colin's words made me feel full. I try to tease but it comes more out as a sob, "Mr. Bridgerton are you proposing to me."

He smiles, "I think it is about time I finally proposed to you after you always proposed your schemes to me. So what do you say Ms. L/N? Would you like to continue proposing schemes to me for the rest of our lives?"

I nod aggressively smiling. There was no stopping the happy tears now.

[leclsrc]

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver. 

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are). 

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases. 

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.” 

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max. 

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed. 

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving. 

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?” 

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. 

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck. 

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up. 

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

[staybabblingbaby]

Best Friend Protocol #9 (Bet part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible. Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: All images, so N/A. Unless someone wants to make these accessible but I don't really know how.

Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I feel like it's been ages since I posted any writing but it's only been a few weeks ^^;; @thatgirlangelb gave me this idea, so everyone say thank you <<<333 You'll be seeing that phrase a lot coming up lol. Love you my beautiful daughter <3 I actually like this one quite a bit. Seungmin is my favorite little shit i love him so much <3 Can I tell y'all a weird story? Don't judge me ok? This chapter got written bc of Banana Pie. I've been so stressed out lately I couldn't bring myself to even open my app. But my roommate accidentally ordered 3 bunches of bananas (she wanted 3 individual bananas) and they were going bad so I stole them and stress baked 2 full sized pies and 3 mini ones. It took 6 hours. I felt so much better afterwards. Anyways this one is Bet Part, but in my heart it's Pie Part. I will have to dedicate a chapter in the future to Felix baking Pie w Reader abt it.

Warnings: She/Her Reader.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

Worm List! ( (づ￣ ³￣)づ) @thatgirlangelb @hyeon-yi , @missvanjii, @velvetmoonlght, @hanniemylovelyquokka , @vegetablesarefuntables, @scribblesnsketches05, @kkamismom12, @alexateurmom, @baribaaari,

If your blog is in Red its bc Tumblr won't let me tag you! It looks fine when I edit it and then it doesn't like me anymore when it posts T^T

Perma Tag List: the lovely @mbioooo0000 <3

[blastdamage]

i mean. for a while i had a..... situationship? whatever tf it was? with someone though looking back on it i now understand i was being lead on. this sucks because i truly loved him and i feel stupid for ever trusting him but why should i. trusting a friend of 5+ years is normal actually. i was the normal one here. he's the weirdo and freak for betraying a friend's trust and treating me like shit the second we (his words not mine) "broke up" (so it's only after the fact that he figures we were ever something. cool). he spent years and years and years convincing me i could rely on him for emotional support because "vulnerability is healthy" and it's sooo sad and horrible how my ex treated me and he wants to be there for me so bad but i just won't let him :(((( and so the one time i was truly vulnerable with him /like he begged me to for idk how long at this point/ he went "actually i just had a savior complex and now that i'm in therapy and doing a lot better i realized i don't find you attractive at all" (am i so unlikeable that caring about me counts as a pathology? that nobody in their right mind could want me?)

btw this is the same guy who after months of promising and reassuring me he'd help me recover from surgery decided to back out at the very last minute for no reason. he hasn't spoken to me since. not even just to check up on me. even people i haven't talked to in nearly a decade reached out to me. acquaintances from my union visited me and brought me food and cleaned my apartment but the guy who was fucking me for years and asking me to give him flowers and sending me gay little emojis and calling me at night just to hear my voice and everything couldn't even be bothered to ask me how i'm doing

why is being single the suckiest most humiliating thing ever

[kimberly-spirits13]

Please Don't Leave (Fear Gas)

Jason Todd x vigilante reader

Synopsis: After returning from a mission to take down an organization similar to the one that trained you to be a powerful assassin when you were little, all you want to do is shower. Life is peaceful waiting for Jason to come hime until you get a call from Stephanie saying that Jason was blasted with fear gas.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, IV's, trauma, death, PTSD, that kind of stuff

FYI: Reader was raised in a Red Room type place and has powerful magic but it's not a super important part of the story, it's just mentioned

Word Count: 2488

It was late at night, and you were winding down to shower and go to sleep. Tonight, was your night off after being away on a short mission for the League. You were tired and sore all over, and all you wanted to do was freshen up and wait for your boyfriend to come home so that you could sleep. Jason was meant to be home in around 20 minutes, and you were waiting for him to come back. Steam from the shower filled the room and you stepped into the shower and closed the door behind you. The lather of your shampoo in your hair made a bubbling feeling on your scalp and the smell of your shampoo created a calming feeling around you. Ease washed down your spine as you turned washed the shampoo from your face and started conditioning your hair when your phone suddenly lit up. You wiped your eyes and got the conditioner out of the way so that you wouldn’t get it in your eyes. The caller ID read “Steph” and a feeling of dread creating a gaping pit in your stomach.  

            “Hey Steph.” You answered, “What’s wrong?”

            “Are you in the shower, not on patrol?” She asked, “Never mind, just, Jason got hurt bad and we need you at the Manor ASAP.”

            “Okay I’m coming, uh-“ A sense of urgency got you moving faster than you’d want to be at this hour, “what happened, what’s wrong?”

            “Scarecrow bust gone wrong. He created a new toxin that is more intense than usual. It makes you relive physical feelings with phantom pain.” “We’re five minutes ETA from the cave. Jason keeps calling out for you and it’s the only way to lower his heart rate before he has a heart attack. He’s reliving the night in the warehouse Y/N.”

            “Okay, okay I’m coming” You got choked up talking to her.

            Realizing that your sense of dread was right, you put Steph on the speaker and started washing the rest of your conditioner as fast as possible. There was no time for drying your hair and you got into clothes as fast as possible as Stephanie explained what was going on. You started running towards your door and grabbed the emergency duffle bag that you kept in the closet in case something like this happened. Sprinting towards the front door in a cold sweat, you locked it and realized that your lights were still on.

            “Lumine off (lights off)!” You snapped a finger towards your lights and the apartment went dark.

            You held onto your bag and took a breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Wayne Manor, “suscipe me huc (take me here).” 

            It was quiet all the sudden, with a breeze filling the room around you and a bright light dropping you on your feet. When you opened your eyes again, you were in the living room of the manor where you suspected someone would be.

            “Ms. Y/N!” Alfred stood with a quick bewilderment, clearly expecting you to use the front door and not the living room as an entrance, “Master Todd is in the cave. I shall lead the way.”

            You and Alfred started for the cave, your bag still in hand and anxiety becoming more and more intense. Alfred pressed a button into the clock and an elevator was revealed. Starting into the elevator first, you pressed the button for the cave before Alfred had a chance to.

            “Sorry about the scare Alfred.” You said suddenly realizing that you had startled the sweet man.

            “Oh no worries. I’ve plenty a fright with this gaggle of vigilantes.” He said this with a smile in his voice, trying to make you feel less intense. 

            You gave him a smile before returning to a worried, slightly stoic expression. When the bell chimed and the elevator door opened, you ran towards the med bay where you saw Dick and Bruce hauling Jason to the table. Jason’s eyes were rolling back into his head, and he was coming in and out of consciousness. You ran over and helped support his body weight so that you could be close to him. Jason was screaming something about the Joker. He was flinching and convulsing like he was being hit repeatedly. As Dick and Bruce hauled him closer to you, trying not to get punched.

            “We got him here as fast as we could, he got a direct hit jumping to stop Scarecrow from releasing the gas into the water supply.” Dick explained as you held onto Jason and Bruce barked out orders to everyone around.

            “Okay, alright, Jason, look at me babe Jay!” you set him down on the table and held him up by his sides, “Jay I’m here, you’re okay, you’re alright. Hey, hey! Calm down, you can do it love. Breathe for me, you’re okay I promise.”

            Jason held his head up and looked at you with bloodshot eyes. His pupils were blown out and he was shaking with cold sweat. 

            “Y/N/N?” He muttered out quietly in sobs, “I need you; I need you. Help me.”

            “I’m right here Jay, lay down. Breathe for me Jay.” You started pushing him back lightly so that Dick could hook him to an IV and get antidote going.

            Dick came up behind you and got the shot ready for Jason when Jason’s eyes went wider than you thought possible, and he started pulling you towards him and screaming like he was being set alight.

            “Y/N, no!” Jason shrieked and started throwing punches towards Dick like he was fighting for his life, “Get away from her Joker!” 

            Dick ducked behind you and away from Jason’s sight, realizing that Jason was hallucinating again. The poking of the IV and Jason being pushed backwards caused him to grab onto you and start screaming hysterically. A look of absolute terror filled his face, and he started calling for you again screaming for help. 

            “No please! Y/N where are you?” Jason started flailing around and you called for Dick to get a sedative since he couldn’t handle being laid down.

            “Jay, honey I’m right here, right here. Joker isn’t here, you’re okay. I’m okay.” You grabbed his cheeks with your hands and pulled his face towards you. To relax him as much as possible ran your thumb over his cheek and pushed the hair in his face out of the way. Jason held your arm as gently as he could, even in as much stress as he was in, and looked at you like you were a lifeline. 

            Dick came over and injected a sedative into Jason’s arm while you were keeping him distracted. Jason shot his eyes over to where he felt a pinch on his arm and started gasping for air like he was dying. It was like he was reliving his death all over again. His eyes shot back to you, and he started crying harder.

            “Please don’t leave me. I’m going to die, please stay with me.” He cried to you.

            “It’s okay Jason, I’m not leaving, I’m right here, you’re okay. Close your eyes and breathe for me Jay.” You ran your fingers through his hair as his labored breathing became less and less abrasive. 

            “Don’t leave me.” Jason’s eyes dropped shut one last time and he went limp on the table. It was quiet in the cave again.

            You didn’t let go of Jason’s face and tears welled in your eyes before you blinked them away and sniffled. Dick was still standing next to Jason monitoring his pulse which was now evening out as much as it could. 

            “Y/N, I’m sorry this happened I-“ Bruce came over to you and laid a hand on your shoulder. His mask was off, and you could tell that he had cried at one point. He was upset seeing Jason reliving everything that he had been through, just as the rest of you were.

            “It’s okay Bruce, it’s not your fault.” You sighed heavily, realizing that your hair was still dripping from your shower, “Where’s Scarecrow now?” 

            “You’re not going after him.” Bruce said, “GCPD has him under tight supervision in Arkham.”

            “He should be in Black Gate and not some mental asylum. He knows what he’s doing.” You said, “And you know his gasses don’t affect me anymore B.” 

            “I know that but-“ You cut Bruce off before he could finish.

            “Besides I promised Jason, I wouldn’t leave him, and I hold fast to my promises.” 

            Bruce nodded, “Tim, Damian, and Cass made sure he didn’t get away. Damian reportedly put Crain in a temporary coma.” 

            “Maybe Crain won’t wake up.” You muttered under your breath as you took Jason’s hands in yours. 

            Tim came inside the cave along with the rest of the heroes. “How’s he doing?” 

            “His vitals have stabilized, we narrowly avoided him going into cardiac arrest.” Dick reported, “we should clean his wounds and get him out of his uniform.” 

            “Antidote hasn’t fully kicked in yet, we need to wait before he’s not under the influence of toxins anymore.” You said, “removing the IV will trigger another attack.” 

            “Someone needs to watch him too. Incase his vitals flip, or he wakes up.” Tim said, “Who takes first shift?” 

            “I’ve got shifts.” You said, “Go hit the hay.”

            “Y/N, you can’t stay here alone.” Dick said, “Someone can stay with you.”

            “That’s fine, but either way, I’m not leaving.” You spoke. 

            “You have to sleep at some point, eat, use the bathroom.” Dick was trying to convince you to get to sleep. He knew that your mission was arduous and had to have taken a toll on you. The League had called you on a mission to help locate and dismantle a group of assassins, like the ones you were trained with as a child, using magic to increase the abilities and reach of the organization. You were the most familiar with the group’s tactics, and the most powerful member in the league to deal with this, so naturally, you were sent. The mission took a mental toll of you because of the similarity it had to your childhood, and you needed the rest to recuperate. 

            “Dick it’s okay. We don’t need two people going manic over nightmares tonight and if I need something; I can literally wave my fingers to make it happen.” You waved your fingers around, creating a blue hued light around them to prove a point.

            Not wanting to continue to argue, Dick subsided and went to hit the showers with everyone else before coming back downstairs to keep you company. He had brought you a blanket and another little pillow, knowing that you wouldn’t get up and leave Jason. 

            A few hours later Jason was dressed into something more comfortable that wasn’t his suit and his wounds were disinfected and stitched where they needed. You had fallen asleep and woken up a few times while keeping watch. A day had passed since Jason’s run in now and you were exhausted. One of the times that you had woken up, you realized that Jason was stirring. You looked at him, watching for signs that he was waking or going back to sleep. Looking at the time, you saw that it was 2:46 AM. The blue light from the Bat Computer lit up the cave gently.

            “Y/N?” Jason called out quietly while moving himself to where he thought you were.

            “Hey Jason.” You said quietly, “I’m right here love.”

            “Did I die?” He asked, searching for an answer in your face.

            “No Jay, you didn’t. You’re right here, you’re okay Jay.” You said, tears starting to well in your eyes again.

            “Don’t cry Y/N.” He lifted his arm and whipped under your eyes, “You know, I didn’t want to see you again like this doll.”

            You let out a small laugh through your nose, smiling a little, “you scared me so much Jay.”

            “I’m sorry Y/N, I never try to. I’m so sorry Y/N/N.” He looked sad very suddenly as he was still watching your every move.

            “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You were just doing your job.” You gave him a knowing look, “At least I was back in town.” 

            “I missed you.” Jason worked his hand up your arm and sat up to kiss you before groaning in pain.

            “I missed you too, now lay down before you bust your stitches.” You helped him lay back down before nestling your head into your crossed arms on the side of the bed.

            “You know that does not look comfortable at all babe.” He said, starting to coax you onto the Med Bay bed he was laying on, “It’s also cold in here. Are you cold? I’m cold.” 

            “If this is your way of telling me you want me to sleep with you in that cot, you could have just said.” You stood up and helped Jason scoot over a bit.

            The quiet hum of the Bat Cave was the only thing that filled the room, along with the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Jason’s breathing was steady, and you thought he was asleep until he started talking again.

            “Were you here the entire time?” He asked, glancing towards you.

            “I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” You said, “I don’t break my promises with you.”

            “Y/N, you know you didn’t have to.” Jason looked guilty, like he committed a crime in keeping you with him.

            “No, no, I needed to stay with you Jay. I couldn’t leave you alone the way you were. I didn’t want you to wake up alone in this place.” You explained, grabbing onto his hand. 

            “I would have found you.” He said softly.

            “That’s the problem. You would have hurt yourself while going looking.” You smirked some, laughing to yourself slightly. 

            “I can’t argue with that.” 

            “How was your mission?” He asked rubbing circles in your palm.

            “It was… a lot.” You sighed, “That was not horrible to relive again at all.”

            There was sarcasm in your voice to hide your hurt when you spoke about the mission. 

            “I know the training you’ve gone through, intense enough that the fear gas doesn’t work on you.” Jason said, “you’ve seen enough that nothing scares you much anymore.”

            “Well, you dear, scared the ever-living life out of me.” You poked his side.

            “I’m sorry.” Jason was endearing and serious now.

            “Jason it’s okay.” You looked at him with intensity, “You did what you had to do. I’m proud of you, not upset with you.” “I love you, Jay.”

            “I love you Y/N.” he said with a softness. 

            Silence drifted over the two of you, and eventually, you were confident enough to fall asleep when Jason had finally drifted asleep. In the morning, you’d worry about sorting out affairs and making sure Jason was alright so that you could go get a good shower after your mission. 

[issdisgrace]

Look what can be requested and I am so excited! It can be one of Ghost being married and after a long time finally 141 meets her husband who is someone so nice, kind and cute to everyone, attractive and a bar owner, he could meet 141 when they go to a nice restobar and boom! they see Ghost's handsome husband.

THE BAR​

WARNINGS: Nothing really other than Ghost threatening Soap​

A/N: I’m gonna to make a part 2 of this later on fyi​

We got back to base the other day and tonight Price decided to take us out for drinks, said he knew a great place nearby. Needing a drink, I decide to go on with this little adventure and in the end we ended up at a bar that is all too familiar to me. It was my husband Y/n’s bar, the one that he took so much pride and joy in. The sight of it made me feel warm inside knowing that he would be in there tending bar like normal. But it also made me worried the guys didn’t know about Y/n. I made sure of that, but now there was no way to get out of this situation. They were going to find out tonight.

Entering the bar, there were few people scattered about, typical for a Tuesday night. Y/n like I expected was behind the bar tending to the people that were sitting at it. His motions were elegant and fluid, making him look angelic. Angelic, angelic was a good word for him. He looked like he was ripped from a fashion magazine and realistically Y/n could have anyone. But he wants me and that makes me feel good like really however I digress.

We made our way to a table towards the back near the restrooms. My back was to the bar as we all sat and figured who was paying for what round. We came to an agreement and settled on Price, Soap, Gaz, and then me. Right before Price could ask us what we wanted I felt arms wrap around my waist and a kiss on my cheek. The look of utter shock written on others’ faces was comical. Already knowing who it was I leaned back into his chest welcoming his familiar warmth.

“Want your normal darling.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll get that for you right away and the drinks are on the house for your friends.”

“Thank you, love.”

“No problem.” He says before giving me another kiss on the cheek before leaving. Looking back at the guys, they are still in shock. It’s like that for a minute or two before Soap says,

“What the fuck just happened? Who the fuck was that?”

“He’s my husband Y/n.”

“HUSBAND?” They all questioned.

“Yes, husband. We’ve been married for 4 years so far, but we’ve been together for 8 years.”

“9 years coming up in 1 month, 3 weeks, and 5 days.” Y/n says, coming up behind me, setting my drink down in front of me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at that. He has always kept track of any anniversaries or birthdays. I suspect he keeps track to the hours, minutes, and seconds, but I’ve never asked.

“Oh right, how rude of me I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Y/n, I’m Simon’s husband and you guys must be Price, Soap, and Gaz. It’s nice to meet you guys. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The Lt. talks about us?”

“Yes, He’s told me quite a lot.”

“Aww, that’s sweet Lt. You do love us.”

“Fuck off Johnny.”

“You love me Lt.”

“No I don’t. I only love Y/n.”

“That’s cute.” Gaz says.

“Sickly cute.” Soap adds.

“Leave Simon alone you two. He’ll give you hell tomorrow.”

“Alright Captain.” The two say in unison. Prices are right. If they keep it up, I’ll make tomorrow's training a living hell for them. Before I voice my agreement to Price Y/n chimes in,

“As much of a pleasure it is to meet all you guys I still unfortunately have a bar to run. So what will you guys be drinking tonight?” They team orders and Y/n gives me a quick kiss before heading back to the bar to make their drinks.

“So Lt. How did you manage to bag such a hotty?”

With all seriousness I say, “If you so much as look at him in any way other than in a friend type of way I will gouge your eyes out and feed them to you.”

I see horror flash in his eyes before he says,

“Alright, alright Lt. No need to get violent. I’ll behave scouts honor.” He holds up the boy scout hand sign.

“You’ve never been a boy scout Soap. I don’t think they would’ve even let you be one.” Gaz says.

“Rude, I would be a great boy scout. “

Price lets out a chuckle at the two, shaking his head. I join him and just shake my head. I can tell this is going to be long night.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi!! 🍄 again I was wondering if I could get a platonic newt x reader (from tmr) where maybe it’s while newt is still new to his limp and reader is helping him do Is jobs

(Also just to let you know if you didn’t newt from tmr is canonically gay (as stated by the author ) I just wanted to let you know so you didn’t write him with a fem reader btw I didn’t relizie how rude this sounds not trying to be rude just and fyi also sorry if you did know just a lot of fans didn’t )

Thank you once again sorry if it seemed rude

ooooo okay I like this! ; also I know, don't worry, and you didn't sound rude! i do see newt as a queer character 100 and I always have, even before learning about James dashners tweet about it, which I find sketchy bc I'm pretty sure he tweeted that after being accused of being weird to women or smthn?? idrk, doesn't matter here bc gn readers only + I wholeheartedly see newt as queer and I can rant ab it for hours ; I don't plan on writing for tmr much but pls send requests, I love writing for this fandom lol

NEWT ; personal aid

summary ; youre helping him after he gained his limp

warnings ; language, talk of/about suicide and mental health

genre ; platonic fluff, kinda angst

word count ; 1k

masterlist

Newt was recently injured in the maze. He'd been as fixed up as possible, given a brace made of tree branches and some painkillers sent from the box. At least no one was using the pills for bad, considering they're a fragile item to give to a bunch of teenagers. The only thing you'd ever thank WCKD for was those painkillers, because seeing the blonde hurt like that killed you inside.

To put it as blankly as possible, he tried to kill himself. He climbed his way up of one of the walls surrounding the glade using the ivy that grew on it, and jumped. He fell about thirty feet, considering he only climbed up the wall about a third of the way, apparently thinking thirty feet would kill him.

He'd never been the type to express happiness within the glade, but he never expressed the opposite either.

But, everyone struggles inside, especially in the Glade. Reoccurring dreams and nightmares, unanswered questions, the will to live dwindling down each and every day, they only fed into the growing depression. Everyone was struggling in the Glade, but Newt, he took the first place trophy for that.

Once he'd been able to walk around again, you took helping him into your own hands. He was clearly never running in the maze again, due to the limp that slowed him down. So, he had a few options, hopefully one he'd like.

Alby took pity in him, making him his right hand man not long after. He needed someone around for when he wasn't, Newt was a good choice for that. He was responsible, good at directions, and keeping order.

You were working as Newt's personal aid, being a medic. You were very much an empath, and your true goal was to just help anyone and everyone. You brought him food and water, washed his clothes, sewed up his ripped up clothes from that day in case he'd be strong enough to wear them again, you did everything for him.

But now he leans into you, looking up at you with a certain displeasure, clearly uninterested in working outside of the maze.

You obviously were never going to let him be a builder, that was already off the table. But he got to look around and make his decision between slicer, cook, track-hoe, med-jack like you, slopper, bagger, and map keeper.

He easily put his money down on track-hoe. Something you didn't know about him was that he found gardening therapeutic. You didn't blame him whatsoever, you never wanted to be in the shoes of the sloppers, slicers, or baggers. To be fair, it was a little too gruesome and gross for you, you'd rather be helping people around the Glade than washing everyone's clothes or killing the animals, just a personal opinion.

He needed help while working, though. He couldn't put too much weight on his one foot, and he couldn't bend down on that knee at all yet. So, while he worked, you stood off to the side, making sure he was alright while you watched the others work around the Glade, enjoying their peaceful, warm day.

While he was picking fruit and vegetables off the vines of ivory, you were by his side, either holding the basket or getting the ones he couldn't bend down to reach. You couldn't help but feel bad for his poor spine as well, considering your back started to hurt after a few hours. The gardens were pretty large, considering there was about thirty or forty boys in the Glade to feed, meaning there was always hours and hours of work or expansion to do.

"Y/n, sorry, can you help me?" The dirty blonde asks, groaning as he stands back up, holding a hand on his knee. "I can't get those tomatoes at the bottom"

You quickly nod, kneeling down to grab them for him while he moves to the next bush, plucking off all the ripe tomatoes off the vine. You retie a string around the support branches, which heald the bush together and let it grow vertically rather than horizontally and try and choke out and kill any other plants nearby.

"Fry is gonna love it when he sees these tomatoes, they're the biggest and ripest they've been in a long time" You comment, looking over at Newt.

He nods, tossing a cherry tomato in his mouth to amount to a little snack. "He sure is, we'll be eating good this week" He chuckles with a little smile. "You wanna work on the cucumbers for me? I'll get the corn" He suggests, wanting to work a bit quicker and suggest some things he could actually do without feeling a pain shoot through his leg.

You nod, taking a new basket over to the cucumber lane. You feel something pang in your heart as you see him attempt to kneel down on one foot to reach one last tomato, groaning and furrowing his brows in the process, clearly still hurting him.

"How are you feeling? Physically and mentally, nothing is off the table."

Newt shrugs, watching you examine and touch around the bruising and his ankle. Your fingertips slide over his ankle a little harshly, and he quickly inhales and furrows his brows, which you respond to by quickly pulling your hands away and apologizing.

"On a light note, it looks much better than before already. How are you doing in a mental sense?"

"I hate this bloody place, I feel dumb for not climbing higher-" He strays silent, watching you wrap a fresh bandage around his ankle. "Sorry..."

"It's okay. I'm here as your personal aid, Newt"

"That's the damn thing! I don't want you to waste your days on me. You have other important stuff to do, I don't want you to have to babysit me." The blonde expresses, watching you properly stand up.

"It's fine, really. You're still in a lot of pain, and I swear I'm not babysitting you. I'm just watching over you so it doesn't end up hurting more, alright?"

"Alright..."

[themotherofblood]

Hello!

I saw that you asked about request for Tywin. I wanted to ask something brief about modern!Tywin with his young girlfriend. Anything you can think of with that scenario would be fine.

Thanks for reading me!❤️

you’ve been so engaged with the whole mafia Tywin thing, fyi I love you for this ask because that’s what inspired it bubs. I feel like this is a quaint set up chapter for this series :)

synopsis: a drunk encounter between Tywin and his golden darling.

warnings: shoe riding, AGE GAP, mentions of bullets. alcohol consumption.

word count - 2k+

masterlist | series masterlist | Lion’s Grasp AU

There was an odd sense of contentment, you were too comfortable with the life you had right now, devoid of having to ask too many questions— mostly for your own good. You had found a jewel of a man, and yes the gold digger comments never sit right with you but a man so fine, devoted was far good of a catch to let go. You wouldn’t think twice but close your eyes and jump down the cliff that was your relationship, there was no lie in the subtle fear that lingered in your heart around him. A striking silver fox and total charmer, it took learning to even breathe freely around him. 

Here you are now, in your own little apartment. Dabbing your fingers on your lips to soften the red lipstick, with the exam season finally over, you could let your hair down and drink till you become very aware of the organs within you and the booze— well, your perfect man happened to own some of the most notorious clubs around Lanniston, more like his son Tyrion but all the same. You looked up at the mirror, feeling great about how two hours of work made you look. 

You hesitantly looked at your phone, cheekily smiling at yourself as you unlocked it and snapped a picture of yourself and sent it to Tywin, you could almost predict the message you’d receive back. 

“Do not drink too much darling.” 

You gnawed at your thumb, shaking your head before shooting him a quick text agreeing with him. A bald-faced lie and he knew so, his men were already on the lookout for you and your girlfriends at Satin House. 

The music, as usual, blared so loud you were sure your heart was thudding the same beat, it felt liberating to not spend another night in dirty pyjamas and crying about your coursework. The henchmen Tywin had put up diligently did their jobs as not a single man dared to go beyond the stern glares these bulked men shot their way. You were sure Tyrion was here somewhere, the air was far too sultry for his involvement to be missing. 

You left early, however, knowing your heeled feet nor Tywin would appreciate it but mostly because you missed him terribly. Practically barring him from witnessing the mess you were in the past month. You huffed out into the cold air of the night, the skies were clear and downtown Lannisport was still alive. Meren already stood at the ready by the town car, you rolled your eyes at him. He always had this pinched look to him, very mean. 

“To home, miss?” He asked as you shuffled into the back of the car. You merely hummed in reply.

He was quick to the driver’s end, ready to head towards your apartment but you stopped him.

“Where is Mr Lannister?” You asked, eyes closed as you huffed deep breaths to shake away the loopy daze in your head. 

“At work, miss.” 

“Take me there then, take me to him.” 

Meren hesitated for a moment, his orders were otherwise but how could he deny his boss’s girl. So he nodded, and you rested your head on the window. Drawing little pictures from the fog that followed with your mouth breathing. That lulled you to sleep somehow from the twenty-minute drive that was to Loren Tower, you were roused by Meren as you blinked away the small nap. 

In front of you was the eighty-two-floor skyscraper, the first time you visited your jaw nearly hit the ground. The building was nearly empty for the night other than security and other essential staff who were only here at two in the morning because their boss was a cruel, cruel man. You fixed your hair in the reflection of the elevator mirror, hoping Tywin agrees with this little surprise drunk visit. 

When the elevator dinged open to his floor, his burnt-out but pristinely dressed assistant was the first face you saw, she looked like she was nearly checked out. 

“Miss—“ she raised the telephone but you pressed your finger to your lips, forcing her to keep your little secret as you walked towards his office. Your heels clicked against the annoyingly polished and glossed marble floors. 

Without knocking you pushed in, leaning against the mahogany door frame, admiring the view you had craved for weeks. His white button rolled up his taut forearms, fingers toying with the idle coffee cup. Brows pulled to a harsh gaze, as usual, he didn’t even look up. 

“Reached home, has she?” 

His crisp voice nearly made your already wobbly legs even more unstable. You smirked at him, he looked almost cute— so focused. You pulled in your lips before speaking up. 

“You should really get yourself a third assistant, poor Cassandra looks dead.” 

Tywin’s eyes shot up, immediately locking onto yours before burning into every inch of your body, from your toes to your head— torturously slow as he leaned back onto his chair. 

“I could— you know, fill that position if it’s open.” you hiccuped, pushing yourself away from the door frame. A dopey smile on your lips softens Tywin’s resolution. 

“How many have you indulged in, love?” 

You place your point exactly on the tip of your nose to prove your point, you weren’t aware of your organs just yet. You half wanted to crawl on top of his table and then onto his lap but you chose the more appropriate route and walked around the desk and then plopped onto his lap. 

“What’s the point of all this, if you still work till two?” You kiss his cheek, nuzzling into the stubble he had grown. 

“It’s tax season.”

“Tax season.” you scoff making him look up at you questioningly “Just because I don’t ask questions doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“Like your hench-“

He cuts you off before you could finish, pressing his lips to yours and pulling your thighs around his so you straddle his lap. The taste of sour cherry vodka is very apparent on your lips.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to darling.” he lectures, leaning lower to kiss your neck. 

“On— on a more serious note, I could use a big girl job.” you smile at him, fixing the already untouched collar of his shirt. Truly, the corporate market was the Dothraki Sea without any administrative experience. 

He raises his brow. “Well, are you after Cassandra’s job?” 

“No, no — but what rich businessman doesn’t have a dozen assistants.” You shrugged, “And I think I have just the right qualifications.”

“Oh, do you now?” 

You eagerly nod, preparing yourself to list a vocal resume. “I make great coffee, a barista duh? I can type quickly, I’m friendly and I can be very pretty and— and” you stick out your pointer and curl it around his collar to pull yourself closer to his ear. 

“I can service you in many other ways, Mr Lannister.” You whisper in his ear before settling back on your calves. 

His gaze hardens once more as he pulls his lips to a tight line. “Alright,” he rubs up your back “you have had one too many.”

This time like an indignant child pouting you pick his pointer finger and place it on the tip of your nose to once again prove you were indeed not wasted and within your right mind. You wanted the job, and you were just a little horny. 

The green of his eyes traced over yours for a moment, before a scoff tumbled from his chest. “You want a job?” 

You nodded your head once more. 

“Earn it then.”

He helped you off of him, letting you settle onto your knees, the rug providing ample protection to your poor knees, you tilted your head confused as he lifted your chin with his pointer. 

“Take your panties off for me.” 

Your breath hitched as excited electrocution began hurtling towards your mound. Your dry spell was to be lifted, another reward for acing your exams. Your eyes were fixated on Tywin as you shuffled your fingers under your green dress and pulled off your black thong, he held your shoulders to stop you from stumbling forwards as you pulled the flimsy fabric back your legs. 

His other hand extended out for you to hand him your panties which he promptly shoved in his pocket.

“Let’s see if you are as qualified as you say you are, little miss.” 

You could stay here all day, oddly warm, comfortable. Minus the heels constricting your feet. It felt nice, it felt good thought it should be humiliating.

You sat on calves, with Jimmy Choo’s on your feet and a diamond pendant necklace around your neck. Head rested against Tywin’s thigh as he sat ever so commandingly in his armchair, his pretty whore knelt between his feet with an aching between your legs. You bite your inner cheek to not moan. 

“Please sir,” you whimpered, feeling another wave hurtling towards you as you rocked your hips against the fine black leather of Tywin’s dress shoes, the texture torturously stimulating your throbbing bud. You gnawed at his knee to stop the surge and then you whimpered once more. 

Your bottom lip wobbled, sniffling as you blinked away your tears. You sat straight with your back straight. You should have chosen the belt lashes instead, this was cruel—so fucking cruel. Here he sat, reading his revenue reports. You, about to be his pretty assistant (only by name) writhing at his feet, eyes glossed and lips bitten, full of colour.

Tywin rather enjoyed this, having you moved to a babbling, tearful mess before he buried his cock in the warm, wet snug for your pussy. He would make you earn the treat, he would have wanted nothing more but to keep you within his eyesight all day, safe and untouched. Your college had already taken such a toll on you he even went through with the private jet arrangements and hotel room to offer you a luxurious escape. His housekeeper, as you sat wiggling by his feet, was packing your luggage. 

“You’ve got to keep quiet, little girl, that was the deal.” His deeper voice crumbles, moving his hand away from the folders to gently pet your hair. 

You looked at him, lips pouted and trembling and nodded your head. Your eyes give him the sweetest most apologetic look, before sinking further into your knees and closing your eyes to avert this feeling of perpetual embarrassment and agony. 

Tywin set down his reports, finally having read through at least a dozen papers before focusing his attention on you. Her pet through your hair, lifting your chin to wipe at your tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Messy little slut.” He tuts, “So desperate to be around me, aren’t you?” 

You nod, sniffling away the more frustrated tears threatening to fall. 

“You’ve earned it.” he pets your cheek once more before the magical words fell from his lips. “Come sweetheart.” 

You nearly sob out in relief as you drop your head against his knee and pick up the pace of grinding against his shoe. Your shoulders shudder just as hard as your legs, your orgasm decimating your resolve. Crying out and heaving as you recover, the muffled sounds of Tywin’s voice coaxing you through it.  

He pulled you back to his lap after, rubbing your back as he put away his work for the night, making a call to have the car prepared. 

“I think I feel my organs now.” You groan against his shoulder, Tywin chuckles, shaking his head, wrapping his blazer around your shoulders before bundling you up. 

He walks out of his office, effortlessly carrying your smaller frame along, he turns to Cassandra’s desk, noting that she indeed looked exhausted. 

“Take your vacation days girl.” He orders as he walks to the elevator. 

“Night Cassandra,” you shoot her a wink over your shoulder. 

You almost doze away on his shoulder as you ride down to the parking, merely a few twitches at your fingertips. 

“Are we going to yours?” you murmur, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. He nods, placing you inside the town car before sternly turning to Meren. 

“The next time you choose to disobey my orders, a bullet will lodge itself within a place you may never find.”

Taglist in the comments

Ahhh, I’m so sorry how long this took to write. Minus the unnecessary things that have gone on for the past few days. My mojo really left me for a week or two but I’m here now, trying to get back into it.

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated.

Also my requests for one shots, this series and Bloody Baby are open, also stop by to my asks any time. I love ranting about my fics hehe.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Can you write about Eddie dad, like he buys his kid his first guitar? But he has to sell sweetheart to get it? But the reader gets sweetheart back with her engagement ring and then Eddie is like where is your ring???

Just an FYI the baby's name is Asher.

Eddie always knew his child would end up loving music, when you two found out you were expecting he started to play music to your bump as it grew, when your baby boy was finally here with you two Eddie was the only one who was able to make him fall asleep as he sung to him.

It's been years of singing to him, of playing the guitar with him that lead to Asher asking for his own guitar for his birthday. You and Eddie talked about it and decided that seven was old enough for him to start learning how to play.

Eddie was over the moon that his son wanted to play the guitar...he was also heartbroken knowing that you two couldn't afford a nice guitar for him just yet. You both agreed to pick up more hours at work and to save as much as possible in the next few months leading to Asher's birthday. He never wanted to have to pinch pennies now that Asher is old enough to notice slight changes that comes with having to save money.

It was a few weeks before Asher's birthday and he was so excited, all he can talk about was his rockstar themed birthday party. You were busy getting everything ready that you haven't had time yet to talk to Eddie about the guitar and Eddie took that to his advantage. One day you took Asher to the party supply store to pick out whatever he wanted and Eddie quickly went to the pawn shop.

It hurt his heart having to sell his sweetheart but it broke his being knowing that Asher wasn't on the path of getting a guitar with how much you've been able to save. You've cut back on everything. You saved as much as you possible could for the past few months and it wasn't enough. Eddie saw how much you were upset over knowing Asher probably wasn't getting a guitar anytime soon and as he thinks about you and his baby boy he knew he had to sell his sweetheart to make his sweethearts happy.

You got back to the house with bags full of party supplies and a very happy six year old. "Mama can I call grandpa! I want tell him bout the party theme!" You laugh feeling you heart swells hearing how excited your baby was and you allowed him to call his grandpa as you put away the party supplies to be used later. As you were putting things away you noticed your husband missing. Soon after noticing this Eddie walks through the door with the excuse of Dustin asking for help with the upcoming campaign. You shrug it off without thinking of anything.

When it's time to tuck Asher into bed he asks Eddie to play a song. You see Eddie tense up and stutter out an excuse of his throat hurting slightly. It takes Asher a little longer to fall asleep that night.

It's two days before Asher's birthday when you pull Eddie to the side to ask about the guitar. "I think we have just enough for a cheap guitar for him" you mutter when Eddie sighs, "Actually...." he mumbles and winces as your focus snaps towards him. "Actually?" You question making him nod. "Isoldsweetheart" he says as quickly as possible. You glare at him playfully, "Munson you know I can't understand you" you say playfully, he takes a deep breath and says it again. "I...I sold sweetheart" Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches. "YOU WHAT?!?!" You nearly scream as he covers your mouth, "Baby don't yell you'll wake Ash" you nod and he uncovers your mouth and sighs again.

"I sold sweetheart. I don't want to give him a shitty guitar for his first one and I can always get a cheap one later to replace her." He tries to justify his actions as you shake your head, "Baby you love that guitar" He shrugs, "I sold it. That's the end of that but I want to get him a true guitar. One that he'll grow up with." All you can do is nod knowing there is no point in arguing.

Eddie was in charge of getting the guitar, you knew nothing about them so he went to his work and got what he deemed worthy enough for his baby. While he was getting the guitar you dropped Asher off at Wayne's to go get sweetheart back. You can tell Eddie is upset with the lost and so is Asher even if he doesn't know that sweetheart is actually gone just yet. You found out where Eddie sold the guitar at and went over with the only expensive thing you owned...your engagement ring.

Today Asher woke up with so much knowing that today was his party. You were in such a rush that you forgot all about sweetheart and your ring. While you were setting up the tables Eddie was setting up all the presents for Asher to be open later in the day. He looked over at you and smiled seeing you talking to Asher trying to lay out the table cloth. He goes over to you two so he can help you out but then something makes him stop in his tracks. "Where is your ring?" Hearing his voice makes you stop in your tracks. "Baby. Where is your ring??" You can hear the confusing and the panic in his voice, you turn to see him and you swallow the lump in your throat before trying to explain yourself.

"Well I...I got sweetheart back..." You mutter making his eyes widen. "You did not sell your ring. You loved that ring!" You nod trying to calm him, "I did but baby I told you before I don't need a ring! I always just wanted our matching bands" He shakes his head but before he can argue back everyone shows up for the party. "We aren't done talking about this." He says before going to greet everyone.

The party is coming to an end when it's time for Asher to open his big present. Seeing his eyes light up and hearing his shouts of excitement made it all worth it. What made it even more worth it was seeing him and Eddie play their guitar together.

A few months later when your birthday came around you were surprised by your baby boy playing one of your favorite songs on his new guitar, and by your other baby giving you a new engagement ring that he made you promise to never get rid of.

Tagging: @emmyshortcake @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @thefreak0fhawkinshigh @lofaewrites

[mik0is0bored]

Cigarettes and the Holidays

↳JJK oc short fic

Masterlist

Playlist🎧

Fyi: very long! (It took me 7 hours to write, and it's also 8 pages long on Google docs)

Note: Really all it is is that in my English class we had to write smth holiday related and why not right abt mine (Hanako) and a friends(Satsuki) jjk ocs? With angst of course!

Note: it initially starts at the shibuya incident, and it takes awhile to lean into the holidays like early December to the epilogue which is the day of christmas

Description: Hanako and Satsuki thought they'd be best friends forever. They're childhood friends, nothing can separate them. But the night of October 31st, 2018 in Shibuya, their life goes to shit.

Tags: not a lot of swearing (there is only one or two curse words cus this is an assignment for english), LOTS of gore in the flashback after Hanako finds Satsuki, bittersweetness, HEAVY ANGST

November 1st, 2018, 01:54 am

Hanako quietly leaned against the wall, the water droplets hitting her face. She had only moments ago gotten out of a battle alive, only having to cut off her leg to survive.

Hanako wished she hadn't gotten into that fight with Satsuki, then she wouldn't have to forever live with the fact she had insulted her best friend, only for hours later to see her friend leaning her back against the wall, bleeding from several spots on her body.

October 31st, 2018, 20:37 pm

“He said stick together, Hanako!”

“Do you want to have less casualties, and the possibility of us both living, or more casualties? Because if we’re grouped up, we could both die.”

“You’re so pessimistic!”

“I’m being realistic, Satsuki! Because you and I both know there’s a chance of us both dying if we stay together!”

“That is pessimism!”

“You don’t know anything about missions or anything! You're going to be helpless on this mission! Your curse technique is useless!”

Silence fell over the two teenage girls. It was quiet for quite a while before Satsuki spoke, her voice solemn, not its usual teasing yet powerful timbre. “Look, we’re both stressed about this mission and our goal. But although, your idea… about splitting up, I’m not so sure. You know what I’m tryna say?”

Hanako exhaled, knowing Satsuki was right, but she didn't want to admit it. The dark-haired teenager exhaled an exasperated sigh before speaking.

“Mhmm… yeah, I suppose,” Hanako began, hesitating between her sentences before speaking once more, “But if we split up, there's a chance we might save more peopleー” While in the middle of her statement, Satsuki spoke up once more.

“I know you’re stressed, I can practically hear it in your voice,” Satsuki began, running her fingers through her lilac hair before finishing her statement. “But I have a compromise.”

Hanako was about to retaliate before she heard the word “compromise”, her interest was piqued as she raised an eyebrow, hoping Satsuki would continue. Satsuki saw Hanako’s incredulous expression and continued.

“Keep an eye on the time, at 21:20, meet back here, yeah?” Hanako let herself listen to her friend’s words before nodding slowly. “Yeah, meet you back here at 21:20.”

The two girls nodded and gave each other a thumbs up before going their separate waysー but little did the both of them know, it was the last time they would both see each other okay.

November 1st, 2018, 02:37 am

Hanako exhaled, slowly sliding against the wall, trying to drag herself to the infirmary base set up at the start of the attacks. She wasn’t one to usually show her expressions, but right now, how could she not feel emotional?

She had got into a fight with her friend, watched her die in her arms, and had to cut off her leg to survive. Hanako thought that even the strongest of people couldn't hide their emotions after such damage mentally, physically, and emotionally.

She eventually got herself dragged to the makeshift hospital that was set up, and she saw Shoko walk over to her and grab her shoulders.

“Are you okay? Where’s Satsuki?” she heard the older woman say, but Hanako was too emotionally wrecked to respond verbally. The only thing she could do was shake her head, trying to imply what had happened to her best friend.

Shoko noticed this and nodded, helping the 16-year-old girl to one of the cots placed in the city center, before taking out medical supplies to stop the bleeding from where Hanako had cut her leg off.

Hanako felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness, before ultimately falling asleep, her mind replaying everything that had happened in the last few hours.

October 31st, 2018, 23:28 pm

Hanako couldn't find any clocks that she could read, so she began sprinting around the area to find one that wasn't shattered.

She eventually found a readable clock, it had read 23:28 pm. Two hours and eight minutes past when Hanako promised to meet back up with Satsuki.

She began sprinting back to where the two had promised to meet up, only to find that Satsuki wasn’t there.

If that didn’t increase her anxiety levels, what did?

Hanako was now running in any direction, seconds passing like years. Her mind was swarming with thoughts and questions. “Should they have stayed together?” “Did she also lose track of time as well?” “Is she hurt?”

Hanako felt like hours had passed before she eventually came to a stop, seeing Satsuki’s scythe, knowing that Satsuki was somewhere nearby. Her muscles were aching, her body screaming for rest, but she ignored the warning signs and continued to run to find Satsuki.

And then she found her.

Laying against the rubble, Satsuki appeared to have none of her limbs remaining; both arms and legs missing, and a small hole in her side that seemed to go through her entirely. Her face was bloodied and bruised, her hazel eyes closed.

Hanako stood that 10ーor soー feet away from her, feeling like the world around her was crashing down. The dark-haired girl felt her legs beginning to move, starting to walk, then turning into a jog, a run, until she was once again full-on sprinting to her lilac-haired friend.

The closer Hanako got, the more injuries she could see. There was a gash on Satsuki’s forehead, and if it wasn’t noticeable before, Satsuki lay in a pool of her blood.

Hanako raced over to her and slid her knees on the pavement, not caring if she scaped her knees, that her knees were beginning to bleed. This wasn’t about her. Hanako began carefully yet firmly shaking Satsukiーor what remained of herー speaking in an unusual desperate tone.

“Hey. Hey… HEY!” Hanako began speaking, her voice increasing in desperation and volume. “Hey, wake up, open your eyes… come on, open your eyes, Satsuki…” Hanako would continue to shake Satsuki before her hazel eyes opened halfway.

“Hanako, hey,” Satsuki whispered, her voice was faint, and her eyes looked slightly glazed over, causing Hanako’s heart to ache.

Hanako swallowed before responding “Hey, idiot, you took quite the beating.” Hanako forced a fake smile, cringing at her voice and how forced her voice sounded.

Satsuki exhaled quietly, barely shaking her head before speaking “Yeah, totally not, I'm completely uninjured,”

A fond smile graced Hanako’s face before noticing tears falling from Satsuki’s eyes. She was crying. If Hanako could remember, she hadn’t ever seen Satsuki cry, but then again, she wasn’t focused on the past.

Hanako wasn’t usually the vulnerable one out of the two teens, but to hell with it. She felt her hand move some of Satsuki’s blood-dried lilac hair out of her face, knowing exactly who her friend had encountered, who had injured her friend like this but decided against bringing him up.

Hanako closed her eyes before opening them, to see Satsuki’s dull hazel eyes. Hanako opened her mouth to speak, but Satsuki spoke up first, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t… I dont want to dieー”

Hanako felt her heart squeeze in her chest, knowing how Satsuki had off and on been afraid of dying and hearing the desperation in her friend’s voice didn't help.

Hanako placed her hands in her lap before speaking, “I’m sorry, if there was anything I could do, I would do it, but you’ve lost so much blood.”

Silence fell between the two girls before Satsuki took in a deep breath, looking up at Hanako before speaking, “There’s something in my right pocket, can you get it?” Hanako nodded, carefully reaching into her pocket, grabbing the object in her pocket, before pulling her hand out of the pocket.

What she had found inside Satsuki’s pocket was a cigarette, and Hanako exhaled quietly before looking over Satsuki’s face, an expression saying “Really?”

Satsuki laughed faintly before speaking, her voice slowly fading the more time passed, “In December, I want you to use this.”Hanako didn’t understand why Satsuki wanted her to use cigarettes. Was she losing her memory? Did she forget that Hanako explicitly said she thought cigarettes were gross?

Satsuki smiled, almost as if she wasn’t bleeding to death right now, before speaking “I know you hate it, but only this once, please?”

Hanako exhaled, but this might as well be Satsuki’s dying wish, so she should just roll with it, and follow through. She nodded before speaking, trying to avoid her voice cracking, “Yeah, yeah. I will, I promise.”

“Good,” Satsuki replied, closing her eyes, her breathing slowing down rapidly. Hanako knew that any moment her friend was going to pass on, her heart racing with sadness. Hanako cleared her throat and spoke, her voice wavering slightly.

“I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I don’tー I don’t think your technique is stupid, I dont think any of the things I said. I’m sorry.”

Satsuki opened her hazel eyes, mouthing the words “It’s okay,” and Hanako nodded, her deep blue eyes looking over Satsuki’s face. Hanako didn’t know how much time had passed with the both of them sitting in silence, trying to savor their last moments together.

Hanako closed her eyes for a moment or so before opening them again, turning her gaze to look over to Satsuki, her chest no longer rising and falling. Hanako felt for Satsuki’s pulse on her neck, with no luck.

Hanako inhaled a few deep breaths, taking a few seconds for the situation to set in. After a few minutes, Hanako felt tears rapidly falling from her eyes. She held the cigarette Satsuki had wanted her to have in her hand, being careful not to smash it in her fist.

After a few minutes of sobbing, Hanako collected herself, wiping her eyes and putting the cigarette in her pocket.

November 1st, 2018, 05:19 am

Hanako woke up, looking at her surroundings, feeling a pounding in her head, a headache. She took in a deep breath, noticing she wasn’t lying in the cot she had passed out in…

how long ago had it been?

Hanako continued to look around, finally realizing she was in the infirmary back at school. She looked down at herself, seeing she was wearing a hospital gown. She slowly sat up,ーshe tried to anywayー trying to get a glimpse of outside the window.

All of a sudden, Hanako bit back a scream of pain, feeling a sharp pain in her leg. She moved her hand to her leg, only to feel the blankets against her hand. She looked down, noticing her leg up to her upper thigh, had been fully severed, cut off.

She pulled the covers off, to notice stitches where her leg had been amputated. Slowly, she began to gain her memories of what had happened last night, remembering how she had cut off her leg, how she had lost Satsuki…

Hanako looked over at the side table beside the bed, finding the call button, and shakily pressing the button. Moments later, Shoko stepped into the room. Shoko, noticing Hanako’s face turn from slightly tranquil to worried, spoke.

“Don’t worry Hanako, we retrieved Satsuki’s body, your uniform is being repaired and cleaned, and the cigarette is back in your dorm room.”

Hanako nodded quietly, letting herself relax ever so slightly.

A couple of hours passed, and Hanako asked if she could go outside to look around, and a little bit later, a wheelchair was placed in her room.

Hanako carefully lowered herself into the wheelchair from the bed, wheeling her way outside onto the campus trails. She wheeled past the training grounds, the pond that she and Satsuki would occasionally shove each other into.

Hanako found herself wheeling over to the cemetery, where all students and staff who died on missions were laid to rest.

Hanako looked for Satsuki’s grave, and after a few moments, she found her best friend’s grave under the lilac tree. This caused a faint smile creeping onto Hanako’s face, knowing that Satsuki’s hair had been a lilac purple.

Hanako then noticed it was raining down ash, most likely from the fires the attack from last night had caused. Hanako found this kind of comical, but it made her heart ache at the same time, the lilac tree and the ash reminding her of her best friend.

December 19th, 2018, 15:16 pm

Hanako had her hands stuffed in her pockets, wearing her winter uniform of courseーbecause what person was going to wear a skirt in the middle of winter? ー wearing an ushanka over her messy dark brown hair.

Snowflakes were falling to earth, hitting her with nostalgia, sitting by Satsuki’s grave and watching the ash fall from the sky, almost symbolizing everything somehow. Hanako walked down the path, no longer using a wheelchair.

Yes, after much convincing by Shoko, Hanako allowed herself to request a prosthetic leg. Luckily, her prosthetic leg helped improve her skills on missions and training. Hanako felt slightly more whole again after she got the prosthetic.

Hanako walked past the tree over by the training grounds. Reminiscing a memory the two friends had shared around the holidays in their first year of high school.

December 6th, 2017

The two friends decided to meet up over by the training grounds, Hanako waiting by the tree for Satsuki, standing out in the downfall of snowflakes. About what seemed like hours later (it was more like 10 minutes), Satsuki ran over to Hanako, smiling and waving.

Hanako got a closer look at Satsuki’s hat, an ushanka. Hanako raised an eyebrow at the hat before speaking. “Satsuki, no offense, but what the hell is that?” Satsuki laughed loudly, her hazel eyes reflecting the sun that was bouncing off of the powdery-looking ground.

“It’s an ushanka, translated to ‘ear flap hat!” Satsuki said, her voice bright, causing Hanako to exhale and shake her head, a small smile finding its way onto her face, speaking quietly.

“Let me guess, to keep your ears warm?”

“Yep!”

Hanako laughed quietly, before feeling something cold hit her back, turning around to see Satsuki holding a few snowballs in her arms, exhaling quietly before speaking. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

Satsuki rolled her eyes before shaking her head, a smile on her face. “Nope,”

December 19th, 2018, 15:20 pm

Hanako smiled quietly to herself, the memory coming to an end, as the winter winds eased any worries she previously had. Now, Hanako was the one wearing Satsuki’s ushanka, noticing that it truly did keep her ears warm.

Hanako let her mind wander, memories she could remember leading up to this moment, walking around the campus in the middle of December, and then she remembered something.

The cigarette that Satsuki had given Hanako just before she died.

Hanako pulled the cigarette from her winter uniform pants pocket, inspecting it carefully, every indent, dirt stain. It truly was the only thing she had left of her friend (although her friend had told Hanako that she could go through her things, Hanako didn’t feel like she was ready to do that yet.)

As Hanako was inspecting the cigarette carefully, she noticed something she hadn’t noticed before, something written in small handwriting, causing Hanako to move the small object closer to her face, reading it carefully and slowly. It read;

“I thought you said cigarettes were disgusting?”

Hanako laughed quietly, feeling her eyes beginning to water, speaking quietly to herself, her voice sounding annoyed, but she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. “Satsuki, you’re an idiot,”

And as cheesy as what Hanako did next was, she looked up to the sky, shaking her head, mock exasperation in her voice, “You always gotta have the last words, don’t you?” Hanako reached into her pocket to pull out a lighter, as she walked over to the cemetery, and sat beside Satsuki’s grave, and under the lilac tree, listening to the winter silence.

[EPILOGUE] December 25th, 2018

Despite it being Hanako’s first Christmas without a leg, it was also her first Christmas without Satsuki, causing her depression to increase slightly, but regardless of wanting to stay in bed all day and rot, she forced herself out of bed, deciding to not change into her uniform, wearing her new boyfriend’s sweatshirt (which looked slightly oversized on her), and plaid pajama pants.

She brushed her hair and teeth and washed her face just for the heck of it. She exhaled quietly, looking herself over in the mirror. She had bags under her eyes. Her depression wasn't crippling, but some days it got worse, and she didn’t want to get out of bed, but she always forced herself to find a reason.

Hanako eventually gained the courage to go through Satsuki’s thingsー she only went through a small portion of the things in her dormー but found a necklace that Satsuki always wore, the necklace being the shape of a scythe, that looked almost exactly like the one Satsuki always had carried around on missions, and now Hanako wore it, no matter what, she swore to never take it off.

Hanako put on a pair of socks and slipped on her black slides, before placing a hair tie on her wrist, taking a few steps over to her doorknob, closing her eyes for a few seconds before opening the door and stepping out, going out of her dorm into the common room, to meet up with her boyfriend, and the rest of their friends.

Her boyfriend is Yuuta btw🤭🤭

Sorry the urge to write crippling angst got to me😔

Not gonna lie I'm kinda anxious cus dude my English teacher is going to think I'm depressed as hell

↳ well i am (undiagnosed) depressed but not crippling depression yk

My auto correct while righting these bullet points is trying to make me sound grammatically correct and that is NOT how I type...

Anyways I hope besides the crippling depression and angst you liked this♡♡

©mik0is0bored, 2024. Do not translate or copy.

[thevegandarkelf]

QOTU: A Little Friendly Competition Part 1

Summary: Going on dates wasn’t always a guaranteed good time. Vec has had her fair share of shitty dates, but the nerves she had for this particular one were for a different reason. She truly liked this one, and she wanted it to go well. Thankfully, Scud shared the same sentiment, and it made for one of the best nights of their lives.

Third installment is finally here! Apologies that this one took longer than I anticipated. We get to see Vec & Scud's first date. I've been so excited to post this one, it's kinda stupid. I hope this pleases the council ('the council' is what we have dubbed our QOTU readers).

PS the shirt he's wearing is the one from the movie where he's talking to Whistler about his scars, just FYI. He just looks so good in it I had to use it. And massive thank you to @dixons-sunshine for help with the summary 🖤

Era: Pre-apocalypse, a bit over a year before the outbreak

Word count: 8.1k (this is my longest one-shot to date and it's only part 1 lmao I'm so sorry)

CW for swearing, some suggestive commentary. You are responsible for your own consumption.

We're also cross-posting on AO3 if you prefer to read it there!

My AO3 Krys' AO3

Upon hearing the vibration against the wood, Vec took her phone off her dresser, a small smile gracing her lips when she realized it was a message from him. Running a hand through her hair and brushing her bangs from her eyes, she opened the message, blood flowing to her cheeks and turning them from their normal pale to baby pink.

Josh ☺️: I can’t wait to see you later. It’s been too long 😉

They’d been talking for weeks, texting on and off throughout each day and even having a few phone calls in the evenings. During one of those phone calls was the first time he called her “Vee,” which quickly became his special nickname for her. Immediately following that conversation, she ran to Georgie, standing in her bedroom doorway and blinking repeatedly before whispering “he has a nickname for me” in the most lovesick tone possible.

She’d hardly stopped talking about this ‘cutie with the bandana’ in recent weeks. Now, it was time to make their first date a reality.

“What kind of makeup are you thinking?” Georgie asked. She began rifling through a stack of eyeshadow palettes Vec kept on her dresser, opening each to examine the colors before setting them down. “I know you usually like to keep it lighter on first dates.”

“Nah, I’m wearing that full-coverage shit,” Vec commented, pulling a small glass bottle of foundation from the drawer, “I’m not about to be looking like a tomato all night long.”

She spent hours curling her hair, having to take a break halfway through and recruiting her best friend to help finish the job when her arms got tired.

“Gin, can you help me?” Vec practically begged as she stepped out into the living room, half of her head in curls while the other remained pin straight.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask,” Georgie chuckled, setting her stack of papers on the glass coffee table to join her in the bathroom. Every time Vec curled her hair, she insisted she could do it all herself, and every time, she requested Georgie’s help somewhere between halfway and three-quarters of the way done.

As a surgeon, she typically wasn’t allowed to have her nails painted. However, since she was off for a couple of weeks taking some much-needed and well-deserved PTO, she decided to treat herself, opting for some black acrylics. electing to keep them short as long nails could make date night plans more difficult.

She also recruited Georgie’s help in picking an outfit, the pile of different dresses, skirts, and more on her bed becoming too much to sort through on her own. Walking back into the living room, she simply grabbed Georgie’s hand without saying a word, taking her back into her room for her to get an eyeful of the mountain of clothes occupying her place of rest, and Georgie knew just what that meant. Vec hated to pull Georgie from her work, but she also knew if she didn’t, one, she would never hear the end of it, and two, she would never be able to garner up the courage to leave the house.

“You didn’t already have your outfit picked out?” Georgie teased, grabbing different tops off of hangers and adding them to the pile, “what, are you gonna go in your scrubs?”

Vec chuckled, the sweet sound of amusement rising from the depths of her chest sounding like music to Georgie’s ears. “I mean, he has already seen me in them, and he still seemed to be into—“ she paused and used her hands to gesture up and down her body “—all of this.”

The pair eventually settled on something simple, pairing a long-sleeved black sweater with a black skirt and a pair of fishnets. Taking extra precaution, she slipped a pair of shorts on under her skirt, the shorts long enough to just cover the tattoos on the back on her thighs.

Grabbing her favorite fragrance off her dresser, she gave her neck, décolletage, and wrists a few spritzes, rubbing her wrists together to ensure the scent settled. The little bottle of vanilla-scented spray was a gift from her mom for her high-school graduation, and it had been dubbed her “lucky perfume” after many an instance of it coming clutch. She only wore it for the most special of occasions—her white coat ceremony, Match Day, her birthday—and this, a first date with a man she was already falling head over heels for, was a very, very special occasion.

Taking one last deep breath and draping her hair over her shoulders, she gave herself one final look-over in her mirror and flattened her sweater. She did one small twirl, watching her skirt flow around her thighs and her curls bounce as they settled back into place.

Making her way back into the living room, she stood in front of her best friend, who’d been spending her evening grading papers when she wasn’t helping her prepare for her date. She anxiously cracked her fingers before repeatedly wiggling them in some pathetic attempt to rid herself of all the nervous energy cooped up inside her body. “What do you think?”

Looking up from her work, a massive smile spread across Georgie’s face as she took in the sight of her bestie before her, all dolled up and dressed to impress. “You look hot.” Giving her a slow up-down with her eyes, something caught her attention. “You’re not wearing the push-up this time?”

Vec was a smaller gal, some curves but nothing crazy, and her chest was by far her biggest insecurity. She always wore the only push-up bra she owned on dates, attempting to boost her confidence by making her small chest not look so small. This time was different. “No. I’m, uh, going for…authenticity this time.”

“Wow. You must really like this one,” Georgie commented, setting her red pen down on the table and rising to her feet. She could only think of one other occasion where her Dia hadn’t worn that illustrious push-up, and that was back in undergrad.

“Yeah,” Vec replied in a sickly, tooth-rotting tone, her cheeks becoming flushed under her full-coverage face. She twirled away from Georgie long enough to slip on and zip up her combat boots.

“Well, he’s a lucky man, getting to take you out.”

Pacing the living room of their shared apartment, she kept her eyes glued to the floor as she began gently scratching at the side of her left thumb with her index finger, the primary telltale sign of her anxiety. “Gin, I feel like I wanna throw up and die.”

“Throw up, sure, yeah. That makes sense. And I’ll certainly hold your hair back if you do,” Georgie assured, crossing over from the couch and standing off to the side of Vec as she continued to pace. She followed her with her eyes back and forth from the entryway to the TV stand and back again. “But die? That feels a bit overdramatic, even for you, Dia.”

“Not helping.” Her tone was unintentionally stern, and she was immediately kicking herself. “I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just so worked up, and not in the fun way.”

Georgie couldn’t help but snicker in response. Even when she was “worked up, and not in the fun way,” her best friend was still cracking jokes and being her overdramatic, unhinged self. “Just try to take a deep breath, okay? Think of this as a day out with one of your friends, just a casual get-together. Less pressure that way.”

“Right…just a hangout…” Vec whispered between deep breaths, “…until one of us is flirting every two fucking seconds.”

“And if anything goes wrong on this ‘hangout’, I’m only a phone call away, remember? I’ll drop everything and come to you if I need to.”

“I know. I’m just super worked up right now. I mean, what if he thinks I’m too bold?”

She snickered again, this time a little louder and with a hint of surprise in her tone. Never had Vec been concerned about being “too bold,” especially for a man. For her to be worrying about something like that meant this ‘cutie with the bandana’ must’ve been special. “It sounds like you were pretty bold back at the auto shop, and he seemed into it. I think if he thought you were “too bold” then you wouldn’t be here now,” Georgie assured, “and if he does decide you’re “too bold,” then it’s his loss.”

Slowing down before coming to a stop, Vec finally ceased her pacing, turning to Georgie as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. “You’re right. I’ve already been pretty bold. I’m just stuck in my own head.”

“Well, let’s get you out of there then.” Georgie stepped closer to her and began brushing hair out of her eyes, adjusting her curls, and looking her outfit over to ensure there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. “Tell me what the plan is again.”

“Umm, I’m meeting him at the bowling alley, and I’m not sure after that,” Vec explained, resting the urge to bite at her bottom lip as to not get lipstick on her teeth, “we might go get food or something, I don’t know. I feel too sick to eat right now.”

“Babe, can you take a deep breath for me?” Georgie asked. Vec nodded, and she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. Georgie placed her hands on her shoulders before meeting her gaze. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sure once you get there, all of your nerves will just melt away. You’re Lydia Rae Vector, the best way this man could be spending his Friday night.”

Vec would’ve been lying if she said the mini pep-talk from her Ginny didn’t do a number in terms of boosting her ego. “Well, I don’t know about the best way, but definitely a good one.” She took her phone out long enough to look at the time before sliding it back into her bag. “I should get going. I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. And you know me, gotta get there early.”

“Don’t forget to—“

“I know, I know. Text you every time I change locations and call with the code phrase if things get sketchy.” Every time one of them was headed out on a date or a hookup, they always reminded the other of their golden rule, as if they hadn’t been doing it their entire friendship.

As she headed out the front door, Georgie called out to her one last time. “Stay safe, have fun, and use protection! Not necessarily in that order, but you know what I mean.”

Vec rolled her eyes and scoffed as she poked her head back in the doorframe just long enough to respond. “Thanks, Gin.”

The bowling alley was only about a 5 minute drive from her place, but given the Friday night Atlanta traffic, it took her almost the whole 20 minute window to get there. After speed-walking through the ever-growing-dark parking lot, she leaned against the first counter she came across, which happened to be empty. She sent a quick text to let him know she was there and where in the building to find her. She also send a message to Georgie, letting her know she’d made it safely.

Vec: Made it. Just waiting for him.

Vec: I still wanna throw up and ✨die✨

Ginny 🌻: You’re gonna be fine. And if you don’t feel fine, I’ll be there before you know it 💛

The next message that made its way through to her was from none other than her date, and given that it was their agreed meet-up time, she figured he had to be close.

Josh ☺️: What are you wearing?

Josh: ☺️: Y’know, so I can spot you 😉

Vec: You’ll see 😉

A few minutes later, she was greeted from behind by a pair of hands over her eyes, hovering just over her glasses. In a normal situation, she would’ve whipped around before the person had a chance to say a word and clocked them in the nose. This situation was out of the ordinary in the best way.

“Guess who?” the familiar voice behind her greeted, chuckling softly.

“Gee, I wonder.” Her tone was sarcastic, amused, and flirty all at the same time, a combination that sent the mechanic’s heart plummeting into his stomach and joining the butterflies already making a home there.

“I’d offer a hint, but that would give it away,” he teased. He hoped that, even though he didn’t give the hint, she’d still catch on to what it was going to be. And catch on she did.

The fucking bandana, she thought. She didn’t say anything, but the giggly scoff that met his ears told him everything he needed to know.

Finally removing his hands from her eyes, he tapped on her shoulder to get her to spin around. Her curls bounced on her shoulders as she turned, her skirt flowing around her thighs catching his attention. At the mere sight of her, his stomach was doing backflips, and when their eyes locked, he knew he was in for one of the best nights of his life.

“Hi!” she greeted. The tone of her voice had changed to one of sheer delight, and there was almost a sparkle to it. She roped him in for a hug, her arms sliding around his neck and his instinctively traveling to her waist. He was elated about her desire for physical contact. It was a short hug, but it was just long enough for him to get a whiff of the sweet vanilla perfume on her neck.

“Damn,” she laughed, bringing her head back up and gently brushing a few stray hairs from his eyes, “no bandana this time, huh?”

He kept his hands on her waist as she worked, moving strands from one side to the other of the natural parting on his scalp. It wasn’t intentional the way his hands stayed planted there and subconsciously pulled her closer. He was simply too enraptured with the sight before him to do anything about it. “Figured I’d let the hair down for a change. But look at you. You clean up good, doc.”

“Clean up good” was an understatement, he thought. She looked beautiful, damn near ethereal, the shimmer on her cheekbone catching the fluorescent light above them. Even curled, her long hair still reached down past her chest, and the shade of dark purple lipstick she’d picked out made her cerulean eyes pop. It took everything in him to not plant one on her right then and there.

After fixing his flyaways to her satisfaction, she folded her arms over her chest and took a moment to admire him. His jeans looked damn near brand new, if she had to guess, and hit button-up was open just enough to expose his collarbone. He was wearing the same choker she’d seen on him back at the auto shop, the same choker she fantasized about curling her finger around and pulling him in for a kiss by. He was a work of art as far as she was concerned. “So do you, mechanic man,” she replied. She was well aware of his hands still on her waist and too wrapped up in the moment to care. They could’ve stayed just like that, talking all night, and she would be happy.

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you. It’s my, uh, lucky perfume.”

“What makes it so lucky?” he inquired, the usage of the L word piquing his interest.

“I only wear it for…special occasions.” She was already starting to blush under all her makeup, but thankfully, her full-coverage foundation kept the blood rushing to her cheeks a secret from her date. “And usually, said occasions work out in my favor.”

“Honored to know I’m such a ‘special occasion.’” It was in that moment, when her gaze dropped to the floor for just a second and he was pulled from his trance, that he became overwhelmingly aware of his hands on her waist that had been very slowly creeping towards her hips.

“Shit, sorry.” He didn’t pull away abruptly, but rather let his hands naturally pull away, and now, it was his turn to get a little pink. “Guess I got distracted.”

Her mind echoed Georgie’s words from earlier in the evening. Think of this as a day out with one of your friends, just a casual get-together. Yeah, that’s certainly going well so far, she thought, a smile breaking out on her face from her thoughts and the compliment from him.

“You don’t need to apologize. Does it look like I was bothered at all?” she laughed, “believe me, if I’m bothered by something, you’ll know.”

Her laugh in response provided him some relief and gave him the confidence to take her hand, running his fingers over hers and looking at his reflection in the glossy black acrylics that adorned her nails. “These look cool. Bet you don’t get to do this too often, given your job.”

“Uh, no…no, I don’t, really.” She had to fight to keep herself from sliding her fingers in between his, resisting the pull she was feeling to lock their hands together.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve painted mine to match,” he smirked. Now, it was her turn to have the butterflies in her stomach working overtime.

Had he painted his nails before? Yes, on more than one occasion. Did he currently own a bottle of black nail polish for himself? Not at all. If she indeed had let him know what she was doing, would he have went out and bought one just to match her? Absolutely.

“I love a man who breaks gender norms,” she gushed. Her fingers trailed up to the base of his-rolled up sleeve, goosebumps forming on his skin as she worked upwards. She tugged on it gently, and her lashes fluttered as she brought her gaze from his bicep back to his eyes. “I like this shirt, by the way. It looks great on you.”

“This old thing? I don’t really pull this one out much. Glad you like it.”

“You should pull it out more often.”

That sentence in another context would go crazy, she thought, doing her best to stifle the laugh trying to creep its way out of her chest. But she was a woman who wore her thoughts all over her face, and the smile she was fighting to make smaller told him that her mind had taken the statement in a more nefarious direction.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her attempt to keep hers contained, an amused smirk crossing his lips as he did. “C’mon, I already got us set up. Just gotta get shoes.”

As she turned to round the corner, his hand trailed to her upper back, taking the end of some of her curls between his fingers, though he was careful not to dishevel them. “Guess I didn’t realize how much hair you really got. It’s still so long. How you get it all to fit in that cap you gotta wear?”

“A very tight braid and lots of practice,” she explained. His hand moved under her curls to rest on her back, migrating down to her waist. They’d only been in each other’s presence for maybe five minutes. Already, he was hardly able to keep his hands off her, and Vec was eating that shit up.

“What made you wanna grow it out?” he inquired as they approached the shoe counter.

“I like to go to renaissance festivals and dress up for them. The long hair makes for some cool styles.” An idea struck her, and she was already reaching for her bag before she could get her next sentence out. “I have some pictures. If you wanna see, I mean.”

“Hell yeah, of course I do.”

Opening to her photos, she selected the album titled ‘ren fest(ivies)’ and clicked on the first picture. “My best friend likes to sew, so she helps me make them.” She handed her phone over to him before turning to the shoe counter, their fingers lightly grazing each other as they did. Just like that fateful day back at the auto shop, the sparks that generated between them could’ve lit the entire city of Atlanta. “You can just scroll through to the end.”

As he scrolled through, he got to feast his eyes on different pictures of her posed in medieval skirts and corsets with weapons that would make any fantasy nerd proud. Like she’d said, the long hair did in fact make for some sick hairstyles, and as he continued, he found himself having to swallow a couple of times to keep himself from drooling. He could vaguely hear her comment her shoe size to the man behind the counter. Eight, maybe? He couldn’t be sure. All of his senses were focused on the pictures of the goddess in front of him.

“Wow.” It came out more matter-of-fact than he anticipated. He was enamored, and it was more than evident based on his boyish grin and the way his eyes closed ever so slightly, like he was high. “You look…” his voice momentarily trailed off before he found it again “…beautiful, badass, all of it. Your confidence is top-notch.”

She looked up from the spot she’d taken on a nearby chair as she finished tying the laces of her bowling shoes. The way he called her ‘beautiful’ had her stomach doing backflips. “Thank you. I’m already planning my outfit for the next one.”

After he put on his shoes, they headed off to their lane. His hand found her waist again as they walked, and he kept it there, like he was guiding her through a large crowd despite not a single person being in their way. She didn’t mind one bit. In fact, quite the opposite. She’d began making mental notes about what she could do to further encourage the behavior.

“I put our names in already,” he said, nodding in the general direction of the small kiosk at their lane. Peering over the frame of her glasses, she chuckled as she scanned over their names on the screen above them. Hers read ‘Vee,’ but that wasn’t the funny part.

“‘Scudster’? Really?” she laughed, that sweet giggle trailing off her tongue to meet his ears again. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard him refer to himself as that, but it was still entertaining nonetheless. “You’re so unserious, you know that?”

“I like to think my “unserious” vibes are part of the charm.” As the pins came down at the end of the lane, he took a bowling ball in his hand, gently spinning it around as to not drop it. This time, it was his turn to be struck by a positively brilliant idea. “Hey Vee, what do you say we turn this into…a little friendly competition?”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow at him, her curiosity quickly piquing, which was evident by the look in her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s say…if I win, I get a kiss.” Immediately fearing he’d been too forward, he waited with bated breath for her to respond or do anything that would indicate she was comfortable with the situation. When her contagious smile appeared again, her pearly whites on full display, his shoulders relaxed, and that little Machiavellian smirk of his crept onto his face.

“Aah, I see.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she racked her brain for what she could say in return. What did she want from him? Just about anything. What did she want to know about him? Everything. “Then if I win…you gotta tell me your deepest, darkest secret. And it better be a good one.”

“Lucky for me, I’m good at bowling.” Judging by his tone and resting smirk, he was feeling rather confident. “Prepare to get shredded.”

He’d put her name in first, so he kindly grabbed one of the balls and held it out to her. “Ladies first,” Scud said, giving her a friendly smile.

Vec wasn’t a complete rookie when it came to bowling. She’d been before, although it had been a while, and given the little skills she had back then, she was certain they’d since faded away. She was almost positive she was going to get “shredded,” but she didn’t dare let it show, lest he already start to think he had the upper hand.

Taking the blue bowling ball in her hands, she stepped up to the lane, rolling it back and forth in her hands and staring down the pins at the end. It’s my favorite color, she thought, that has to mean something, right?

“So how did you get into dressing up for ren fests?” His question rang in her ears as she took her first shot, his voice catching her by surprise and making her stumble. She missed her center shot, the balling rolling off to the side and into the gutter, not hitting a single pin as it traveled into the darkness at the end of the lane.

“Wow,” he teased as he approached her, “should we have put the guards up?”

“That’s not fair,” she jokingly whined, her smirk turning into a playful pout, “you distracted me.”

“Fear not m’lady, you got one more shot,” he assured, stepping away only long enough to bring the bowling ball back to her.

“So to answer your question, I’m big into fantasy shit.” She lined herself up again, taking a deep breath to help her focus. “You know Disney movies at all?”

This time, he waited until after she took her turn to respond. While the ball didn’t roll into the gutter this time, it was no strike, just barely knocking a couple of the pins over on one side. “Sure do. My favorite’s The Fox and the Hound.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Scud looked over his shoulder long enough to give her a cheeky grin before lining up his first shot. Though he was determined to win their little friendly competition, he was far more interested in listening to what she had to say. “My favorite growing up was Sleeping Beauty. It was my ‘gateway drug’ into the world of fantasy. Got me into the Lord of the Rings, going to ren fests, and eventually dressing up for them.”

He rolled nearly dead center, knocking every pin over with a single strike. He turned back to her, that same cheeky grin on his face. “Oh you’re just showing off now,” she groaned, that playful joking pout making a second appearance for him. And oh, how he was loving it.

As he’d told her during their initial meeting, he’d been on the market for a while. He needed someone that could joke around with him, be able to laugh at themselves, was unapologetically authentic and genuine to their core. So far, she was checking all of those boxes and then some.

“Told you I was good.” Stepping back to her, Scud brushed some stray hairs out of her eyes, tucking them over the side of her glasses. There was hardly any, not enough to have bothered her at all, but it was enough for him to do something about it. He was looking for damn near any excuse to touch her in any capacity. And the little smile that crept up every time he did? He’d do anything to see that.

“Anyway,” she commented in an attempt to bring the conversation back, “I used to watch it so much that I’d constantly be singing the song from it around the house when I was little. My brothers used to make fun of me for it. All in good fun, of course, but they’ll still sometimes bring it up just to get under my skin. Y’know, the way siblings do.”

“You close with ‘em?” He was already lining up for his second shot of that turn, her standing over his shoulder, but far enough back to not get hit by his arm when he swung.

“Oh yeah. I have a few, we’re all really close. They’re all older. Joined the military right out of high school. Became Navy SEALs. They’re some of my best friends.”

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone—hell, he was hardly able to admit it to himself—but the mention of multiple military big-brothers did put him a bit on edge. In his mind, all it would take was one wrong move for them to come knocking on his door. He didn’t know much about the different branches of the military, but one thing he did know is that Navy SEALs were not to be fucked with.

“Don’t got any myself.” He took his second shot, once again landing another strike. Vec was beginning to wonder if he’d chosen bowling for a first date on purpose as a way to show off a little. “Had a lot of cousins growin’ up. Having kids my own age around was nice. That’s dope that you’re so close with yours.”

“I definitely got lucky. I certainly never taken them for granted.”

They continued chatting as they took turns, Scud occasionally doing a tiny fist pump when he made a strike. It wasn’t perfect, he didn’t land every single one, but it was damn near close, and Vec knew she had no chance. Still, she did her best to maintain her confidence and give the illusion that she believed she could actually win.

Every chance he got, he was grabbing her bowling ball for her, ensuring their fingers touched each time he handed it over. Even though she wasn’t nearly as skilled as he was, he hyped her up any time she knocked over even one pin. He was a jokester, and their playful, teasing banter had the butterflies in his stomach working overtime, but he also wanted her to have fun and feel good about her abilities.

“Now the big-ticket question I’ve been wanting to ask—what made you wanna become a doctor?”

“It’s kind of a silly story,” she sighed as he returned the bowling ball to her. She’d become accustomed to receiving rather snide comments when answering that question, and her evening was going too well to have it ruined over her response to a classic first-date question.

He picked up on her hesitation, the regret settling in as he worried he possibly struck a nerve or unintentionally brought up a touchy subject. He hoped a sprinkle of humor would provide some encouragement. “This is the Scudster you’re dealin’ with. Silly is my middle name.”

‘Scudster’ made her giggle and eased her nerves, so she decided she’d tell her story, hoping to whatever might be out there that he wouldn’t think it was stupid. “When I was three, one of my brothers got into an accident, landed himself in the hospital. One of the surgeons was this beautiful woman with long auburn hair, and she was wearing a floral dress and a white coat. Me, being three, saw any woman with long hair and a pretty dress and thought she was a princess, as most little girls do.”

“So I asked her. Toddled right up to her as she was talking to my mom and asked her if she was a princess. And she crouched down to my level with the biggest, brightest smile on her face and said “of course I am!” Then I turned to my mom and said “Mommy, I wanna be a princess when I grow up!” Princess, in that moment, meaning someone who wears pretty dresses and a white coat and saves lives like the way the pretty lady in front of me was saving my brother’s. Of course, as I got older, I learned what a doctor was, but I never wavered from that decision. Not even once.”

She waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything. The first thing he did was laugh, but not in a mocking way or a ‘wow, that’s stupid’ kind of way. It was the laugh of someone who’d just heard a baby giggle or watched a puppy chase their own tail. “That’s probably the most adorable thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“You sure it’s not silly, not even a little bit? Most people think it is.” He gave her an empathetic sigh as his hand found her shoulder, and he subconsciously drew small circles with his fingers, hoping it would offer some solace. How could anyone find such a wholesome and precious story silly or stupid?

“You’re a smart woman, Vee. I’m sure you’ve gathered that I’m not “most people.” It’s super cute. I may be “unserious,” but I’m no liar.”

“Well thank you,” she replied, batting her lashes as she briefly dropped her gaze to the floor. They reveled in that pocket of time for a few moments, his hand still drawing small circles on her shoulder, and she brought her baby blues back to meet his. Blue was her favorite color, and the specific shade of his irises was quickly becoming her favorite one. “What about you, bandana boy? What got you into being an auto mechanic?”

“I used to work as an inventor. That’s just more of a hobby now.” He stepped away long enough to take the red bowling ball he’d been using for his next turn. “My dad taught me stuff about cars when I was younger, so that and the inventor skills carried over nicely into being a mechanic.”

Vec’s ears perked up at the mention of the word ‘inventor.’ Given how fascinating he already was, she didn’t think it was possible, but he’d just gotten a lot more interesting. “An inventor, huh? That’s so cool! What kind of stuff do you make?”

He took his turn before responding to her inquiry. “Used to make weapons for this guy. One might say he was kind of a sketchy character, but he was a nice guy. Never gave me any trouble unless he was up my ass about not getting something done fast enough.”

“You’re cute, funny, and you have cool hobbies? It’s like I won the jackpot or something.” She blinked a few times and shook her head gently, like she was shaking herself from a trance, before stifling a breathy chuckle and locking eyes with him. “I’m doing the thing again, aren’t I?”

She’d been bold from the moment they met—hell, even before that, given the initial bandana comment she’d made about him to his boss—but he found it cute that there were moments that she thought she was being ‘too much.’ He’d never once thought she was too much. There weren’t any words in the English language that captured how much he loved how forward, brazen, and shameless she was.

“Told you I liked how bold you are,” he assured, giving her a delicate pat on the small of her back, “I’ll be right back. Gotta hit up the little boy’s room. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

As he sauntered off, she took the opportunity to check in with her best friend. Leaning back against the kiosk, she took her phone from her bag and saw that she had a new message from Georgie.

Ginny 🌻: How’s it going? ☺️ Are you having fun? 💛

Vec: I don’t think it could be going any more perfectly. I can’t wait to tell you about it 💙

Vec: He’s kicking my ass though

Ginny 🌻: Can’t have that, now can we?

Vec: Well, it wouldn’t be so bad if he won ☺️

Ginny 🌻: Oh???

Vec: Maybe he’ll get a little 💋

Ginny 🌻: OH 👀

Chuckling softly to herself, she slipped her phone back into her bag, returning it to its home on the kiosk. She tapped her foot on the floor, taking a deep breath and focusing on the clicking of the bowling shoe on the wood. It was a small attempt, but she hoped it would be enough to rid herself of the anxious energy creeping through every inch of her body. When he was around, it was like all of nerves channeled themselves into her flirting, but the moment she was alone with her thoughts, she was spiraling.

“Didn’t have too much fun without me, did you?” His voice startled her, but not enough to make her jump.

“Of course not,” she replied, giving him a gentle nudge to the shoulder with hers, her voice laced with sarcasm. He scanned his baby blues over her face, stopping briefly on her lips before meeting hers again, and for a moment, she thought he might plant one on her.

He wanted to, though. He badly wanted to. But his own nerves, and the thought in the back of his mind of her military brothers kicking his ass if he made a wrong move, were getting in his way.

“The glitter looks cool,” he complimented, haphazardly gesturing to his own cheek.

Despite the gesturing, she cocked an eyebrow, confused. “What glitter?”

“Tilt your head up,” he instructed, but before she could do it on her own accord, he had his fingers under her chin, gently tipping her head back and adjusting the position until her cheekbone caught the light, “to the side, a little more, there you go.” He tapped gently on her cheekbone, careful not to ruin or smudge her hard work. “Right there.”

Vec was clenching her teeth to keep herself grounded in reality. If she didn’t, she was certain she would fold on the spot. Every time he touched her, she was ready to melt like putty in his hands, and she just hoped he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks from her blushing.

“Oh, that’s highlighter,” she explained, “it’s a shimmery powder you put on areas you want to…well, highlight, make stand out.” She shook her head softly to allow the highlight on her nose to catch the light. “Got it here too.”

Everything she said, he looked at her like it was the most damn interesting thing in the world, regardless of how ‘unimportant’ it seemed. Even something as simple as the shimmer on her cheekbones intrigued him, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“You’re gonna have to show to me how you do that. It looks great.”

“I’m not a professional by any means, but thank you.” She tore her eyes from his long enough to look up at the screen and see that it was their last turn for this round.

“I’d love to be able to make a strike, even just once,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I could help. Get you set up perfectly and all that,” he offered. He didn’t even bother trying to hold back how eager he was. “If you want, that is.”

“Yeah.” Her smile softened as she met his gaze again. “I’d like that.” The look in her eyes and the way she said “I’d like that” had his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage.

He grabbed the infamous blue bowling ball and met her at the lane, standing behind her after handing it over. “So you gotta line it up just right.” His hands found her hips, keeping his touch light as he coaxed her to shift to the center. “This good?”

“It’s great,” she replied, her voice cracking as she fought to control her anxiety. She’d hoped that the nosies of other families surrounding them would mask the crack in her voice, but his breath tickling her ear as he chuckled told her otherwise. Despite her boldness, Scud had noticed her getting flustered all evening, and to him, it was nothing short of adorable.

“You wanna aim just off of dead center to account for it curving.” Now, it was her turn to have her heart hammering against the inside of her ribcage as he adjusted her arms and straightened her shoulders, all while keeping his spot right behind her.

Taking a deep breath to calm down—both from the mounting pressure she was placing on herself to make a strike and having a handsome man who couldn’t keep his hands off her mere inches from her back—she followed his directions to a T, rolling just off of dead center and allowing the ball to curve as it traveled down the lane.

Boom. Strike.

“Oh my God, I did it!” Vec cried, twirling in circles a few times before launching into Scud’s arms. She threw her arms around his neck, practically squealing with delight, the excitement coursing through her body rapidly bubbling over. His chuckling in her ear was one of the sweetest sounds she’d ever heard. However, when his arms snaked around her waist, it occurred to her she might’ve gotten a little carried away. “Shit, sorry, I got excited.” She went to pull away, but he kept her in place, wrapping his arms around her further until her chest was flush with his. He wanted to stay in that little pocket of time forever.

“Don’t apologize.” He was reveling in the moment, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be feeling sorry for it. “You crushed it, Buttercup.”

She picked her head up to look at him, her curls tickling his cheek. Despite only a subtle cock of her eyebrows, the confusion on her face was obvious. “What did you call me?”

“Buttercup. Like the Powerpuff girl. Seems fitting for you.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You should, ‘cause it was certainly meant to be one. She’s always been my favorite.” She looked beautiful with her face done, but he loved seeing her blush with every compliment he gave. He could only hope she was turning red under her makeup. And she certainly was.

“Hair got all messy,” he teased, looking over the strands that had fallen in her face and flipped around her part, “guess it’s my turn to fix yours.”

He did the same as she had before, taking different chunks and moving them back to their place so her part was nice and straight again. It didn’t take long, but during those few seconds, her knees went weak, and if she hadn’t been so focused on holding herself up with her arms around his neck, she would’ve collapsed. He thought about putting his hands in her hair to fluff it before calling it quits, but he opted against it, the thought of her military big-brothers creeping back to the front of his mind. They were going to be the death of him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a round to win.” His mischievous joke elicited an eye roll and a giggly scoff from her.

The moment he made his final strike, he did one last fist pump, turning back to her and playfully sticking his tongue like a child. “Told you you were gonna get shredded.”

She was blushing so hard this time, she was positive her cheeks were glowing & the heat radiating off her face would melt her foundation right off. She loved piercings, tattoos, any sort of body modification. Upon seeing his, her mind immediately went in the most nefarious direction imaginable.

“Whoa, you have a tongue piercing? That had to have hurt like a bitch,” she exclaimed, doing her best to mask how flustered she was despite the crack in her voice and the double take she did.

“It did, but it looks dope, so it was worth it. You like it?” She more than just liked it.

She’s definitely thinking what I think she is, he thought as a little smirk broke through, but he didn’t mind at all. He was flattered that her mind was going in that direction, and he would’ve been lying if he said his wasn’t doing the same.

“Yeah, it’s awesome. I love piercings. I’ve only got my ears done, but I don’t even get to wear earrings often because of my job. Can’t have a stud falling into somebody’s intestines or something.” She pretended to clear her throat to prevent her voice from breaking further. “Anyway, that was only round one. We’ve got two more. I still have a chance to beat you.”

Those next two rounds were much the same, consisting of them chatting and getting to know each other throughout their turns with plenty of flirtatious touching to accompany it. Despite some assistance from him, he crushed her in every single round. As it was a Friday night, it was rather noisy and busy in the bowling alley, but it was like they were the only two people in the room. They were in their own little bubble, as far as they were concerned, a bubble they could’ve stayed in eternally if they were allowed to.

“I’m a doctor, not an athlete.” she joked, balancing herself on the counter to finish putting her boots back on.

“You still did good,” he commended. When she finished with her boots, he propped his arm in her direction, indicating to her to take it if she wanted. “Guess we’ll just have to come back so I can teach you.”

Gracing him with her soft smile, she took his arm, delighted with the clear enthusiasm he had about what some might call ‘showing her off.’ It had been a long time since she’d been on a date with a man so comfortable with PDA, especially on a first date. It was refreshing, and it had her swooning big time. Scud wasn’t like any man she’d met before, and that was precisely the type of man she needed. “I guess we will.”

She clung to his arm as they stepped out into the parking lot. It was dark now, the automatic lamps in the lot having flipped on and the streets flooding with people heading out for their Friday night, end-of-the-work-week antics. She used her free hand to brush her hair out of her face, and she could feel his gorgeous ocean eyes on her, studying every microscopic move she made. Even the mundane act of her brushing some hair out of her eyes brought a smile to his face. He was falling hard, fast, and he knew it and had no problems with it.

“I don���t know about you Vee, but I’m not ready for this night to be over. You hungry at all?”

“I ate a little before I came, so I’m not ravenous, but I’m not ready to be done either.”

“There’s a nice bar up the street. What do you say I buy you a drink? I’d love to keep talking.” There was a teeny tiny sparkle in his eye at the declaration of wanting to continue their evening over drinks, and Vec couldn’t help but let her small smile warp into one that stretched from ear-to-ear.

“I’d like that.” She slipped her arm out from his, and she could’ve sworn the sparkle in his eye faded to sadness for a brief moment as she pulled away and reached for her bag, taking out her phone. “I just have to text my best friend first. It’s nothing personal, I promise. Part of girl code is keeping each other informed of our locations on dates.”

Vec: We’re walking to this nearby bar. I think it’s called Whistler’s? He didn’t say, but it’s the only one I can think of up the street.

“Nah, you got someone lookin’ out for you. That’s good,” he commented. Based on the inflection in his voice, he’d clearly taken no offense, but even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered to her. She was simply doing what she needed to keep herself safe.

She slipped her phone back into her bag and adjusted it on her arm. Looking past his shoulder down the street, she nodded in the general direction. “You thinking we walk?”

“I was hopin’ we would.” Grazing his fingers against the back of her hand, he kept his touch light as he trailed them around and slipped them between hers. Vec had never been more thankful for the dark, and for full-coverage foundation, than she was in that moment. As she locked eyes with him, her small smile contorted into a giant grin, her delight turning his smirk into a smile. “It’s dark. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

Vec belongs to me

Georgie belongs to @dixons-sunshine

QOTU taglist: @ripleyswife @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @holdmytesseract

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

Want to become a head of the council? Hit up either myself or Krys to be added to the taglist :)

Banner, divider, and © below were also made by Krys