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shotmrmiller · 10 months

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I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar.

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink.

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?”

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!”

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison.

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up.

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice.

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.”

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out,

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,” grind—and you whimper in his ear, “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked.

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed.

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand, goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.”

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him. With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank.

“You have a condom?”

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it.

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.”

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise.

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.”

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock.

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back, stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length.

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it.

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.”

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x you #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #call of duty smut

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christopher-the-cube · 1 month

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Let me get this straight:

- there was no dance number

- barely any good songs

- no mention of the weird Korean ben with the side part

- Sloane and Ray were written off with one (1) line

- sure Ray walked out but why on earth did Sloane disappear if she was there with them in hotel oblivion I guess we’ll never know

- we were told Reggie erased everyone’s memories about Ben’s death but ??? it was physically impossible for him to have erased ghost Ben’s memory. Like, did Ben never discuss that with Klaus? It looks like he didn’t even realize it was Reggie who shot him, did he never ask Klaus how he died? 😭

- they showed us sparrow ben obsessively drawing Jennifer in s3, sort of insinuating he survived the Jennifer incident in the sparrow timeline but he straight up didn’t recognize her at all now? It’s like they were meeting for the first time?

- where did that subway even come from

- um. Five and Lila

- how the hell are their kids alive in the last scene if the siblings never existed

- why the hell are the Swedes and pretty much everyone from the commission there alive at the same time if they were meant to be taken from different time periods and that’s meant to be a true and pure timeline without any time travel whammy

- seriously wasn’t there a scene with an old timey black and white picture of the Swedes they would NOT be there in 2019-2024-whatever-year-it’s-supposed-to-be

- why does grace have a stroller in that last scene whose kid is that

- on that note what’s up with Lila’s family, to me that kind of insinuates all of the 43 WERE born in that timeline but… there’s no mention of any of the children or any of the siblings bio families

- which completely ruins the last plot point of ALL of the marigolds having to be destroyed, please even if the other children weren’t born there they straight up still had a half a jar of marigolds in Diego’s van 😭😭😭

- ALSO what was Abigail’s motivation, am I crazy or did she go like “fuck you reggie for wanting to destroy the world to punish you I am going to destroy the world” ???????

And I’m not even touching the whole Five characterization thing oh my god

#literally what was that #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy #tua #tua s4 #I’m processing #literally cried

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atlabeth · 5 months

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(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao

wc: 9k

warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333

You’d never been this restless before.

Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way.

No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through.

He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would.

He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.

In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that.

But you were not there.

You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing.

You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.

“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”

“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours.

She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.”

“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.

“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.”

You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”

“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.”

“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?”

“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile.

“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.”

“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.”

“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?”

She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.”

“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.”

You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life.

“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?”

No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it.

Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused.

“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”

Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—”

“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”

“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.”

“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.”

“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.”

“Truly?” you asked softly.

Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile.

“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.”

Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.”

“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.”

Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?”

You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew.

You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you.

Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official.

It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…

Then, he would propose.

You would accept.

And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears.

“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.”

“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.”

“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you.

Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.”

“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.”

“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.”

You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack.

“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.”

“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking.

“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?”

“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.”

Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.

“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.”

“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders.

“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.”

She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes.

“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.

“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.”

She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.

“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.”

“Has he?” you asked.

“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.”

You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with.

Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal.

“I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.”

“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.”

“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.”

There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him.

Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?”

“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.”

You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still.

Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least.

It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up.

Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles.

Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.

Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad.

“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile.

“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in.

“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.”

You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.”

Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”

Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”

Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you.

You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”

No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress.

Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”

“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”

“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.”

“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”

“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”

Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you.

“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”

You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.”

You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you.

You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.

You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.”

“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.”

“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”

Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne.

“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.”

Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?”

Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”

She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”

“That is different,” you insisted.

“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.”

“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.”

“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.”

“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.”

“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.”

“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.”

“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.”

“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”

“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”

Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you.

“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”

“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”

You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.

Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with.

It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf.

You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears.

You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your palms to your forehead.

You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan.

Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at.

“Miss Worthing.”

The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery.

“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”

“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”

“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.”

“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh.

“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.”

“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”

You turned away. “I can try.”

“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”

“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly.

“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.”

“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.”

Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.”

“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out.

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged.

You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”

“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.

Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become.

“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.”

“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.”

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing.

“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head.

“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.”

You nodded, and he did as well.

“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine.

“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.”

“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.”

You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into.

But he… he loved you.

He loved you just as you loved him.

“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.”

All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions.

“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.”

“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?”

“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance.

Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could.

Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”

“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst.

The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.”

You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.”

Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.

“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it.

But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you.

“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”

“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket.

“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.

“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Just take it off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”

“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you.

“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”

“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver.

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access.

The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire.

You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way.

You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord.

“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.”

You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.”

You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you.

“Anthony— oh!”

The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied.

You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh.

“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin.

“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.”

“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?”

“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.”

“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.”

You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?”

“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.”

“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?”

“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.”

“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.”

Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.”

“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”

Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.”

“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”

“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly.

You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.”

“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.”

“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.

“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.”

“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.”

Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”

“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head.

Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne.

“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”

“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?”

“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.”

Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual.

“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”

“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”

“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded.

“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”

“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.”

“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.”

Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words.

“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.”

You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion.

“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.”

Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears.

“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”

“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.”

“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”

Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you.

You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.

And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.

“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.”

You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.”

He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”

“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.”

“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.”

“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.”

His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?”

“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned.

Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either.

“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.”

“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.”

“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.”

Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?”

“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.”

“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.”

“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked.

She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.”

You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief.

“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.”

“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head.

Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.”

You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.”

“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.”

You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.”

“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.”

Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.

“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.”

You hummed in agreement. “As do I.”

You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him.

Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged.

Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured.

“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…”

“It is our secret.”

Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.”

“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured.

Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife.

The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.

And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 5 months

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DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc au #dpxdc memes #dpxdc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #dead on main ship #alcohol

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roseghoul26 · 5 months

Text

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life.

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are.

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage.

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you.

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him.

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be.

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important.

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was.

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this.

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards.

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice.

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey.

You almost wished it had torn you apart then.

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion.

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in.

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close.

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight.

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it.

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth.

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought.

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck.

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name.

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty.

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too.

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened.

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes.

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone.

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out.

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words.

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark.

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

“Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred.

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame.

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.”

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips.

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched.

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death.

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features.

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered.

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body.

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside.

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.”

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately.

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again.

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.” Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this.

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself.

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand.

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours.

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like.

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you.

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified.

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it.

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it.

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it.

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs.

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you.

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret.

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again.

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair.

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks.

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat.

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing.

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans.

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat.

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own.

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring.

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it.

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles.

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit.

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

“You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him.

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke.

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer.

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now.

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck.

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body.

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck.

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction.

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist.

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand.

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny.

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin.

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back.

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry.

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier.

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

#fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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kaciebello · 8 months

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Delivery fees

Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff! reader (use of she/her, no use of y/n) Masterlist Delivery Express ✿ Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. Business opportunities arise and brands need to be made. warnings: mention cigarettes, nothing else really Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only :( • Previously: Don’t shoot the messenger • Next part: Left on delivered Word count: 1262

Notes to deliver - 14

The group of boys was relaxing in the courtyard, some sitting on the uncomfortable stone benches, one individual was leaning against a tree that provided them shade and two more sat on the floor forming a semi-circle of their friend group. Nobody dares to approach the ‘ dangerous’ group of individuals for their own sake. Well, nobody but a certain Hufflepuff girl with a bright yellow bow in her hair.

Who, coincidentally, was making her way over to them. As fast as she appeared she sat down and made herself comfortable between her friend's legs who was sitting on a bench. A string of greetings could be heard from the group but the girl paid them no mind. She had business to take care of.

“ Hello, Sunshine. All good?” Asked Lorenzo leaning over the girl nested between his legs hoping to catch a glimpse of her face. She shook her head and dug out her trust notebook from her bag. “ I can't come up with a name.” she just says and ignores the stares the group gives her. Lorenzo gives up and just plays with the bow in her hair.

“ Name for what?” Asks The boy leaning on the tree, Theodor. Now too, sitting down at the base of it. She looks up from her notebook with a sigh.

“Isn't it obvious? My delivery business. I can’t go nameless for long.” Nods and hums of agreement sound from the boys yet no suggestion in sight so she continues.

“ I was going to name it Badger Express, but my muggle friends informed me that something called Panda Express exists and that they deliver Chinese food. I simply can not rival that.” She whines and crosses something out of her notebook.

“ You talk to muggles?” Asked Draco, seemingly offended by even being in the existence of the word. To his dismay no answer just a pencil is thrown his way.

“Royal Mail is also taken, so that's that one crossed out.” A huff makes them all turn their heads to Blaise, making his eyes widen with all the attention.

“ Hogwarts express?” He suggests with a sheepish shoulder shrug.

“ You mean like the train that takes us here and back every year?” argues Mattheo on behalf of the girl.

“ What else was I supposed to say?” Snaps back Blaise.

“ A better idea” whispers Draco and some heads turn to him immediately. A laugh can be heard leaving Theodor as a playful argument breaks out between the boys.

The girl just sighed and turned her head up to look at Lorenzo. “ Your friends lack creativity love, we shall find you new ones.” Lorenzo just nods wordlessly after observing them himself.

“ I think badger delivery could work nicely.” He suggests, the girl just nods, as this is as good as it’s gonna get from any of them.

“ The name does not matter right now. I have gotten complaints about the charge.” She announces effectively stopping the fight as all the heads turn to her. Confusion on their faces and pure despair of hers.

“ How much do you charge?” Asks Mattheo opening his cigarette packet and passing it over to Theodor.

“ 5 galleons.”

“Pocket change.” Ignoring his remark and declining the cigarette Theo was offering to her.

“ I think I am going to charge depending on what they want. Because if I have to deliver one more love note dosed in amortentia my head will burst” She wonders aloud, not looking for an answer from them. Her hand searches for a pencil that now rests behind Malfoy's ear and immediately gives up when she notices its place.

” What does it smell like to you?” Asks her Theodor as if they were girls at a sleepover doing facemasks and sharing who their crushes are.

“Wouldn't you like to know.” She answers her eyes narrowing at the boy.

“ I bet I can guess who it smells like.” Says Mattheo with way more confidence than needed. A sigh leaves her, fully aware she can no longer stop teenage boy shenanigans. Wild-named queues are thrown into the circle as it looks more like a game of Guess Who at this point.

“ I guess it's one of us.” Answers Blaise who, in the meantime, managed to pull out a book and actually read some words. ‘ This tomfoolery…’ she whispered and leaned into her friend sitting behind her.

Silence falls upon the group, the sun decides to peek from behind the could blanket and expose them to direct sunlight for a few seconds. Lorenzo declines a cigarette from Matthew as he continues to play with the girl's hair. A little ‘aha’ from her breaks the silence and they all turn to her like lazy cats disturbed from their sunbathing.

“I can ask the twins if they wanna partner up!” She says with excitement, almost jumping from her spot with it.

“ The twins?” Asks Blaise.

“ Weasely Twins.” Scoff can be heard from the blond of the group before he lays down to soak up more of the sun, seeming not aware of what sunburn is.

“ No think about it, I can distribute their little trinkets and get some money from it! It's a brilliant idea!” The girl gets up and brushes her skirt with newfound determination. Few eyes followed her, some didn't even bother to pick up their gaze from a book or opening their eyes.

Taking a few steps to the blond she snatches her pencil back before he even registers a shadow is now covering him. Packing her bags she hears her friend.

“ Why are you even doing this?” He asks with genuine curiosity.

“Money.”

“Why?”

“ Merlin, not everyone comes from old wizard money, Berkshire.”

“ You do tho.” Silence falls upon them again as the girl has no valid answer to the argument. Deciding to pack her bags instead when a few notes fall out of her bag.

“ You have something for us there, mail girl?” Asks Mattheo with a raised eyebrow and points to the notes. Frantic nods are her answer as she picks them up and starts distributing the right notes.

“ Each of you have one, well, not you Theodor you have two, for some reason.” She says.

“ Maybe I am just that popular with the ladies."

“ I don't know man, one was really pissed when she gave it to me.” His smile flatters a bit before returning to the smirk he normally wears.

Her friend forms a pout on his face and grabs her wrist from his sitting position. “ Nothing for me?” He asks.

“ Boy, you told me not to deliver you anything, the only notes you're getting from me are the ones I take in potions.” A smile spreads on his face and he lets go.

“Oi, sunshine. Do you think I can get those potions notes too-”

“Oh Is that Fred and George? I've got to go, bye!” She grabs her stuff and hurries to the ginger twin boys that heard her calling. An offended scoff can be heard from Blaise before the group remembers that they actually have potions homework and all scurry like mice in a hurry.

Notes to deliver - 9

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bachiras-toaster · 6 months

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Bf!Rin headcanons? 🤭

RIN ITOSHI x gn!reader

authors notes. i am IN LOVE with rin so im glad i wrote this instead of my college essays

╰┈➤ the type of person to keep your relationship strictly private. in fact, it’s because he loves you so much that he wants to keep your relationship private.

╰┈➤ private, not secret.

╰┈➤ it was no surprise to the public when it was discovered that professional footballer, rin itoshi, was dating you, especially since you did have connections to the Itoshi brothers previously anyway.

╰┈➤ from the beginning, the paparazzi pressing on the matter pissed him off. he hated how interviewers would always eventually get to bringing your name up, because it meant that your relationship was starting to be shared with the world.

╰┈➤ but more than that, it was because he had a such a soft spot for you that he couldn’t help but become nervous when people brought you up. and as annoying as the interviewers were, he couldn’t stand to be mad at them when they gave him an excuse to talk about you.

╰┈➤ he’s probably half the reason your relationship wasn’t as private as he’d hoped. he was just such an unintentional blabbermouth.

╰┈➤ when you’re actually with him in public, he tends to get overprotective.

╰┈➤ when you’re in the streets, you need to be holding hands; when you’re at social gatherings, his palm needs to be attached to your hip.

╰┈➤ not just for safety reasons, but he supposed he also needed to constantly remind people that the two of you are together.

╰┈➤ when he realises that he’s getting approached by fans in the street, he’ll subtly hide you behind him so that you’re not pestered, and you’ll watch with a soft smile as rin is forced to take photos and sign autographs.

╰┈➤ despite maintaining a cold facade, he somehow manages to talk do gently when it’s to you.

╰┈➤ if the two of you are at a party he’s clearly uncomfortable being in, he’d slowly scoop your hands into his and plant a gentle kiss on your knuckle before muttering, “it’s getting loud. do you want to leave?”

╰┈➤ honestly, it’s quite impressive how quickly he’s able to switch tones.

╰┈➤ he can go from kindly whispering words of affirmation in your ear to screaming expletives to a random man, threatening to fight him where they stood and ordering him to stop hitting on you.

╰┈➤ rin’s jealousy is actually an unheard of level of rage.

╰┈➤ every time bachira jokes with you, isagi compliments you, or any of his other team members hang out with you one-on-one, it’s like a ticking time bomb in his mind.

╰┈➤ rin trusts you with all his heart, but his possessiveness is a little louder than his compassion, and he’s rather eat both of his shoes than put you aline in a room with a man that isn’t him.

╰┈➤ he is willing to start the most outrageous scenes over it.

╰┈➤ once, shidou publicly dedicated a shot to you during an important match just to piss rin off, and he went ballistic.

╰┈➤ he had maintained himself on the pitch, but as soon as he reached the locker room, rin was already prepared to pack shidou up and send him to the emergency unit.

╰┈➤ a good fight definitely would have ensued, had he not been stopped by his teammates holding him back.

╰┈➤ plus, you continuously warned him not to fight because you hated seeing him show up to your dates with bruises and marks— his injuries from football were already enough.

╰┈➤ he hated defying you, but sometimes he just really couldn’t help himself.

╰┈➤ the days where he would literally feel himself freeze before knocking on your apartment door because he knew that his injuries would tell you that he got into another fight were the worst for him.

╰┈➤ because you always looked at him with that certain face of disappointment before simply sighing and letting him in, ready to properly tend to his wounds.

╰┈➤ he’s so gentle when he’s in private with you.

╰┈➤ you could spend hours cradled in his arms, listening to the dulcet mumbles of his voice as he told you about his day.

╰┈➤ when be gets home from a match or training, all he wants to do is cuddle you mindlessly with a tv show in front.

╰┈➤ sometimes he’s mumble about how annoying his teammates were today and how he’s glad he can finally lay down with you.

╰┈➤ to many’s surprise, he’s really the sweetest boyfriend ever.

#blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock x y/n #blue lock rin itoshi #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x y/n #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk x you #bllk

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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

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🎉The Eras Tour - 3k Special

Note: Thank you all so much for being so patient with me as I've been going through some writers block. I hope this is all you've been waiting for! It's time to say hello to an old friend ☺️

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“What are you doing?”

Arthur jumped and slammed his laptop shut when a voice sounded right next to his ear. He placed a hand on his heart as he turned to look behind him. He rolled his eyes once he saw who it was.

“Did you have to scare me like that? Mon Dieu.”

Max crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The Monegasque narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in my brother’s house?”

Max blinked. “You changed the subject.”

Arthur huffed, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting a straight answer anytime soon. “If you have to know, I am looking for a birthday present for my girlfriend.”

The Dutchman’s eyes widened. “Her birthday isn’t for another few months though, right?”

Arthur nodded his head. “Oui. But it lands on a race weekend again. I didn’t get to spend much time with her last year, so I wanted to make this year special. I don’t think she’ll mind if we do something early.”

Max reached over and grabbed a chair. The chair dragged on the tile as he brought it closer to the table. He sat down and leaned his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to see the computer better.

“What are you doing?”

Max looked up at Arthur. “I’m going to help. I already have my idea for her birthday, but maybe we can conjoin them?”

“Are we talking about gosse’s birthday?”

Arthur let out a groan. “Yes Charles. I was looking for a present for my girlfriend.”

Charles, who was eating a bowl of cereal, walked closer to the desk. “I think I was just going to go with another gift card. She has too many pairs of Crocs.”

Max snorted. “And whose fault is that?”

The Ferrari driver scoffed. “How was I supposed to know that everyone else got her the exact same pair.”

The younger Monegasque rubbed his eyes. “Can we please get back to the subject, or I’m never going to find the right gift. Max, what did you get her?”

The Dutchman pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened an image. “Porsche came out with a Lightning McQueen styled car. I was going to rent it for her or see if I could get it on a loan.”

Arthur’s head thumped on the desk with a whine. “How can I top that?”

Max felt a bit bad at the dejected man. “I’m sure you can come up with something. What are her interests?”

A sigh came out of Arthur’s lips. “Cars, Formula 1, Top Gear, Texas, Cars 2.”

Charles snorted. “Maybe let’s go away from the cars and her day job.”

Max thought for a moment. “What about a spa day? Girls like spas, right?”

Charles made a face. “Gosse isn’t like that though. What if we all went karting with Sebastian.”

“But you said no to job and car related things. She has her own karting place inside her house, Charlie.”

“What if we went to a movie theater. What is showing these days? She mentioned that one actor that she liked.”

“Oh, Glen Powel in Twisters?”

“That’s the one.”

“But it doesn’t come out for another two months.”

“I don’t see you giving any good ideas, Max.”

“What about a dog?”

“She barely takes care of herself. How would a dog work when she’s gone almost the full the year?”

Arthur’s head suddenly shot up, making Max and Charles jump at the abruptness. His hands flew to his laptop, opening the screen. He typed a few things before yelling.

“That’s it!”

Max peered at the screen. “Taylor Swift tickets?”

“Why are you three talking about Taylor Swift?”

The three men’s heads turned around quickly. Alex walked into the small office, holding Leo to her chest. The little sausage puppy was contently sleeping in her arms.

Arthur turned back around to start looking. “Y/n’s birthday is coming up and I needed to get her a gift. And these two,” he pointed to Max and Charles, “are no help.”

Alex stepped forward and handed Leo to Charles, who immediately started kissing his head. She leaned down next the Arthur’s chair and looked over the screen.

“Charles, Kika, Pierre, and I are going to the Milan show if you want to join us.”

“He is?”

“I am?”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you this last month.”

The man with the dog shrugged. “I have learned to just say yes to anything you say, mon amor.”

Alex straightened and took out her phone. “I can ask for you and Y/n to join us? It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Arthur looked up at her. “Thank you so so much, Alex.”

She gave a soft smile. “Anything for my future sister-in-law.”

Arthur immediately turned away with a blush while Max and Charles squawked behind her.

“They’re just babies! They can’t get married! They’re not even engaged!”

“Nuh-uh, kid is not getting married until she is 35. No way.”

The only response was the clicking of Arthur’s computer. Both older drivers peered at him.

Max pressed a finger to Arthur’s shoulder. “You’re not getting married anytime soon, right?”

The Monegasque felt trapped under the stares of both drivers. His mind immediately went to the small velvet box in the bottom of one of his shoes back at your shared flat. So, he did what any sane person would do. He stood up quickly, grabbed his laptop, and made his way to the door.

“That is a great question, Max. But I really have to go, uh, walk my fish and vacuum the front lawn! Alex, can you text me the details for the concert? Thank you so much!”

The slam of the door told the three that the younger was long gone.

Charles, who was still holding a now squirming Leo, had a confused look on his face. “They don’t have a fish.”

“And they don’t have a front lawn.”

“You two are idiots,” Alex mentioned as she made her way out of the office.

Arthur sighed when he got in his car. A ping from his phone made him look at it. He smiled at his lockscreen, which was a picture of the two of you from your first win in Monza last year. His thumb swiped his phone open to see the text was details from Alex.

After replying, he put the car into drive and headed back to your apartment. He knew that you were probably asleep, so he quietly opened the door to your apartment. When he reached the bedroom, he was correct about you sleeping when he got there.

He kicked off his shoes and gently climbed into bed behind you. When he wrapped his arms around your middle, you gently rolled over into the embrace.

“Hi,” you murmured sleepily.

Arthur placed a kiss to your forehead. “Hello, mon ange. Did you have a nice nap?”

You nodded against his chest. “Very warm and snuggly. Where were you?”

“At Charles’s. Max was there.”

You hummed. “Of course he was. What were you doing there?”

The Monegasque sighed against your hair. “We might have been talking about your birthday.”

A whine escaped your lips as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you went over the math.

“But my birthday isn’t until a few months.”

Arthur nodded his head. “I know. But it’s a race weekend again. I wanted to do something a bit more special than just sing to you in the garage.”

You closed your eyes once more, still a bit sleepy. “I would have been fine with that. As long as Charles doesn’t get me another pair of Crocs, I think I’m fine.”

A smirk formed on the Monegasque’s face. “So, you’d be fine without a present.”

You nodded against his chest. “As long as I have you, I’ll be content.”

“So, you want me to tell Alex that you don’t want to go see Taylor Swift.”

Now, Arthur should have been prepared for you to bolt up. However, he didn’t expect the sheer force of the top of your head to hit his nose on the way up. The two of you yelped at the contact. Arthur held his nose while you held your head.

“Shut up, you did not!” you squealed.

Arthur winced, pulling his hand back to see if his nose was bleeding. “I did. Ouch chérie, that hurt.”

You gasped and threw yourself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He smiled as he held you tightly in a hug. Arthur knew that you had wanted to go to a concert, but also knew that you wouldn’t buy the tickets for yourself. You always claimed that other people deserved it more than you since you had met Taylor multiple times.

“We’re going with Alex, Charles, Pierre, and Kika.”

“Perfect.”

“And it’s next weekend.”

He was ready for the headbutt this time. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“What are we waiting for? I need to start planning outfits and make friendship bracelets!”

You quickly unraveled yourself from his arms and ran out of the bedroom door. What you missed was the fond smile on Arthur’s face as he watched you go. If he knew this would make you so happy, he would have taken you to a concert earlier.

“Arthur! Get your ass in here! We need to go shopping!”

The man rolled his eyes lovingly as he got off the bed. “Yes, chérie. I’m coming.”

The Leclerc brothers were down bad for their girlfriends.

After a full week of going through Pinterest for ideas, bracelets, and outfits, you finally deemed Arthur and yourself concert ready.

“Bebe, the car is here!”

You brushed your mascara over your eyelashes one last time before answering, “Coming!”

You carefully walked down the hallway of the rental flat in your heels. Arthur’s eyes lit up at the sight of your outfit.

The dark blue made your blond hair and tan skin pop. Was it a bit out there for his taste? He’d have to say yes, because he didn’t want anyone else ogling you at the show. He gave a low whistle, making you blush. You lightly hit him on the shoulder when you reached him.

“We’re going to be late.”

You looked over his outfit one last time, making sure that the white stars stayed stuck on the navy suitcoat.

Arthur leaned in cheekily. “And whose fault would that be, mon ange?”

“Yours.”

He gawked as you walked right past him out the front door. Arthur blinked a few times before he grabbed your bag that you had left behind. Looking around the room, he made sure that you weren’t forgetting anything else. It was only when the car honked that he made his way outside.

Now, his brother was one for theatrics, but he wasn’t expecting a limo to be outside the flat. He lovingly rolled his eyes as he clamored down the steps. He opened his door and wasn’t surprised to see you and Alex already next to each other. Arthur sat down to Charles, who was staring at his phone.

Once the door was closed, the limo took off. You and Alex were in a world of your own, which gave Arthur some time to talk to Charles.

“Did Max text you?” he murmured.

Charles nodded. “Oui. He said the car will be parked outside near a back entrance so that fans won’t see it. You two are leaving early? Alex and I are leaving to sit with Joris for the last few songs.”

“Perfect. We will just leave with you then.”

“What are you two talking about?” you asked with innocent eyes.

Charles smacked Arthur’s thigh. “He is just telling me that you wanted another pair of Crocs for your birthday.”

“No, I did not!”

You snorted as you rolled your eyes. “Sure, babe, sure.”

Arthur glared at his brother, who was sitting with a smirk on his face. Thankfully, the rest of the short drive was bearable. You stayed cuddled up to Alex, as the two of you were texting Kika as well.

When the limo stopped, the four of you were led through a different entrance to keep things a bit calmer. But as you as you sat in the little pop-up chair talking to Arthur, a few people had started to notice Charles, and then Alex, and then you and Arthur.

You giggled as you watched Charles wave his hand around as he tried to direct Pierre and Kika to the seats.

Your chair creaked as you leaned over to Arthur. “And we have been spotted.”

Arthur’s eyes flicked around and landed on multiple phones pointed in their direction. He wanted to sigh internally, but this was yours and his life: forever to be sought out and filmed. The Monegasque wanted to reply but you were already out of your seat and leaning over the barriers to take some friendship bracelets. He melted at your excited smile as you handed them some of the ones you made off your arm.

A few of the girls pointed to him, letting him know that a few of those would end up on his arms by the end of the night. Once you were done, you skipped back to Arthur, wide smile on your face.

“How do I look?”

He wanted to snort as you pulled a funny pose, yet he was distracted by how happy you looked. You were close to glowing from your joy.

He went to answer, but the lights started to dim, making you squeal and turn around. Arthur knew it was time for the concert to start, so he got off his chair to walk to closer to the barrier of the VIP section. His arms wrapped around your middle, and your arms came to rest on his.

It was about halfway through the concert when you and Arthur went back to the chairs. Before he sat down, he went over to the worker who was on the other side of the little gate.

“Would you be able to get us some water?”

The employee quickly shook his head before leaving momentarily. He came back with two bottle of water that were cold with condensation.

“Merci!” Arthur said as he took the bottles from the man. On his way back to you, he cracked open the lid for easy drinking. He also didn’t want your nails to accidentally chip halfway through the night.

You smiled brightly as he held the bottle out to you.

“You’re the best. You know that right?”

The cool water was refreshing in your mouth after singing for so long. You wiped your mouth, making sure that no water had dripped down on accident. Arthur had pulled out his phone to message Max to make sure that the car would be there, when Taylor rejoined the stage.

The singer immediately walked up to a bench where a guitar rested against it and sat down. She readjusted her mic before speaking.

“Hello, Milan!”

The crowds roared at the greeting, making you giggle. You and Arthur had ventured back to the railing, still holding each other like earlier.

Taylor laughed, making the crowds quiet down as they waited for her to speak again, anxiously waiting for the surprise song of the night.

“I heard that one of my friends was here tonight, and I wanted to play something special for her and her boyfriend.”

You turned around in Arthur’s arms to look at him. He was already grinning wickedly.

“You did not.”

He quickly shushed you and spun you back around. His head came down and rested against your forehead, lips dangerously close to your ear. Taylor’s guitar began to play, and Arthur sang next to your ear with Taylor in the background. From above, confetti began to softly fall, almost like snow.

“Green was the color of the grass, where I used to read at Centennial Park…”

Your eyes welled up in tears as the mood turned into a quiet and somber atmosphere as the guitar played out what you had dubbed Arthur’s and your song. The tears in your eyes began to stream down your face as Arthur swayed the two of you to the music.

“And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

While you two were wrapped in each other, Alex lightly elbowed Charles. The driver had looked at her with confused eyes before he gazed in your direction. He watched as Arthur gave you a kiss on your forehead, and how your hands tightened around his arms on your middle. His eyes softened at the delicate moment.

Alex stepped closer to Charles, who wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her into his side.

She hummed lightly. “Arthur needed her.”

Charles took one more look at the duo, who had changed positions to where you were now tucked into Arthur’s side.

“They needed each other.”

When the song ended, you had to take a second to calm yourself down. Arthur walked you back to the seats where your water bottle sat. You immediately opened it and too giant sips. When you were done, Arthur’s hands came up to your face. His fingers rubbed a bit under your eyes, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“You had a bit of mascara under your eyes. Wouldn’t want you to look like a raccoon.”

Your giggles filled the little space between you and him. Once they subsided, you took the chance to really look at Arthur, the man who loved you more than you could ever dream.

“Thank you for taking me here. It was a nice surprise.”

You watched as the soft smile on his face grew into a smirk.

“What do you have planned?”

“Are you ready to leave?” he shot back.

You were confused but looked around. Charles and Alex were jumping up and down to the now upbeat song. Pierre and Kika were currently trading bracelets with a few more fans. You then looked back at Arthur and shrugged.

“We can leave.”

His face lit up as he grabbed your arm. You thought he would say goodbye to his brother, but he just dragged you out of the section and to the exit. He was laughing as he pulled you along, almost jogging by this point.

You laughed behind him. “Bebe, my heels can’t keep up with you! And I need to post this really fast!”

Thankfully, he slowed down enough for you to comfortably walk next to him and finish your Instagram post.

y/n.89 has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, y/n.nation, swiftontrack, and 104,983 others

y/n.89 And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? Thank you Arthur for the best early birthday present a girl could wish for! J'taime bebe!

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box_box_express that's my f1 point leader!!

y/n&co oh my gosh, I didn't know I needed y/n at the eras tour until now!

swiftontrack my two worlds are colliding 😭

maxverstappen1 has he showed you the surprise yet?

charlesleclerc MAX THEY JUST LEFT!

maxverstappen1 HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW????

formula_delulu THEY PLAYED THEIR SONG I CRIED BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THEM

y/n.nation the dress EATS ⭐️💙

168133isfamily now I need Oscar at the eras tour now!!

Before you got to the exit, he stopped suddenly and turned around.

“Are you ready?”

You were gasping for air just a bit after the fast-paced walking. “I’m always ready for anything with you.”

Arthur would have gotten down on one knee right then and there if he had the ring. However, Ollie would kill him, along with Lando who wanted to take the engagement pictures. And Max would too, since he technically hasn’t asked for permission, even though Christian gave him the go ahead.

He took a breath before opening the exit door. You had still been looking at Arthur when your eyes turned away and landed on the red and yellow car. Your hair spun as you whipped back to your boyfriend.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything chérie.”

“Shut up!”

You took a few more steps to the sleek red car and whistled low. You stooped to run your hands over the bright yellow decals.

“Did you do this?”

Arthur looked a bit guilty. “This is Max’s present, so you’ll have to thank him.”

Your eyes widened for a moment before you smiled brightly. “What are we waiting for? I’ll drive.”

Arthur shook his head. “This is your present, I will drive so you can enjoy it.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, mon ange?”

“I’m driving.”

“Yes, chérie.”

athur_leclerc has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, porche. Disney, and 194,295 others

arthur_leclerc safe to say that she is taking this home with her. thank you to maxverstappen1 for making this happen. she says and I quote, "I love you max, never change"

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y/n.nation yeah porsche isn't getting that back

redbullracing I'm guessing we need to do a Lightning McQueen livery now?

liamlawson30 YES PLEASE AND I WANT FREE PRACTICE WHEN IT HAPPENS PLS I BEG 😭😭

maxverstappen1 tell her that I say you're welcome and that I will overtake her in the championship

arthur_leclerc I told her and she responded "no you won't" 😌

maxverstappen1 she made that exact face, didn't she?

athur_leclerc yep.

box_box_express this is so freaking funny 😂

porsche tell her she can keep it! happy birthday to our favorite Red Bull driver!

arthur_leclerc she just screamed

sebastianvettel I AM RIGHT HERE?? I DRIVE FOR YOU??

porsche she's the people's princess? 🤨

sebastianvettel you're right, carry on

y/n&co no one is going to be able to beat max for this present

end note: are you glad I brought kid back? I've missed her a lot, so this was so much fun to write! once again, thank you for being patient!

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