#but really the moment the mask came off in tws was also just...the first time steve actually got a decent look at him

[meggtheegg]

the way that this episode had a better grasp on bucky's innocence than the entirety of tfatws

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor’s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering��everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[iiotic]

How about a fem!reader finding a injured exterminator and wanting to help them out with Charlie,Vaggie and Alastor (Seperated ofc)

(A/N) - Sorry it took so long!! Anyways hope you enjoy <3

Charlie, Vaggie & Alastor with Fem! Reader who wants to help an exterminator

TW - Ep 6 Spoilers, mentions of death and blood, swearing.

༻༉Alastor:

You and Alastor were taking your daily stroll around town however today was different. The extermination ended about 30 minutes ago.

Alastor noticed your change in mood as you sensed that something was wrong. He asked you, multiple times if you were okay but you just didn't know what was causing you this feeling??

After 10 minutes of your walk you both decided to go back to the hotel. But something catched your eye; Exterminators mask. You informed Alastor about your newest discovery, walking up to it.

You suddenly tripped over something or rather someone tripped you. As Alastor was helping you get up, you turned your head in the direction of the mask. You were truly shocked seeing what was laying before you.

An exterminator.

You told Alastor that you didn't want it to lay alone here and suffer. You told him that you want to take care of it and he surprisingly supported your idea. But little did you know that he didn't care about helping them at all.

After the exterminator was transported intro the hotel, more specifically to his radio station. No one must know about this. You bandaged it's wounds as it was heavely injured during the extermination or the fall? You couldn't tell.

You left the hotel shortly after, having to continue on your daily activities leaving Alastor and the sleeping exterminator all alone. You really thought that you left them in good hands but you were just oh so wrong.

Alastor always craved to know how that kind of meat tasted like. He absolutely devoured them, leaving nothing behind. He finally fulfilled one of his destinys.

When you came back he just told you they ran away upon seeing him! And you believed him because why would be be lying about something like that?

‧꒰ა Charlie:

She totally supports the idea!! I think that she would be the first one to suggest taking care of them. Of course you first had the thought of doing it but she beat you to it.

Cares, helps and supports the exterminator like they were her child. She would bring them breakfast to one of the hotel rooms she gave them everyday.

When you say you want to do something for the exterminator she already did it.

Charlie wants to get some of the informations out of them. Is redemption actually possible? What does a sinner have to do to get into heaven? Is heaven filled with cotton candy and love and care and..????

She was quite disappointed when the exterminator said that they didn't know any of that crap.

She was also surprised when they started swearing at her face at first. Like I didn't know you could do that?? Doesn't heaven have strict rules?

She prolly got bored of the exterminator after it didn't do anything to help her and her hotel but no one must know that!!

༉‧ა°.Vaggie:

The extermination ended one hour ago. You and Vaggie decided to take a walk to see if the city was really looking that bad and if there's anything left behind the exterminations.

You could see the surprise in her eyes when you yelled her name to show her what or rather who you found in the alley.

An exterminator; Wings cut off and one arm missing. That moment reminded Vaggie of her past. When Charlie decided to take care of her just like you want to take care of the exterminator laying beside you.

She decided to support your idea and take care of the exterminator though she didn't think it was the best. She would feel guilty if you'd left it there to suffer. Pheraps she could have a little bond moment with them? Get it because she was an exterminator too? Get it? Get it?

You both took the exterminator to the hotel. Everyone was shocked upon seeing what the fuck y'all were doing. Some thought that this was a terrible others not.

Vaggie took care of the exterminator whose name was "Cassie" as you learned. She bandaged her back and her arm. Or at least the spot where the arm suppose to be.

She had a little trauma bonding with the exterminator in private.

After a week of the exterminator or rather Cassie staying at the hotel Vaggie admitted that maybe it was a good idea to take care of them.

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 4

Prompt: Home

Words: 3100~

TW: Phonetic Scottish Accents (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This one did not at all go in the direction I meant it to. I genuinely thought this one was gonna be short, that's my bad for thinking a MacTavish family reunion wouldn't be chaotic.

So a bit of Premise, I have a headcanon that Soap's actual name is Coinneach John MacTavish, but only his family calls him Coinneach.

Enjoy!

Ghost tried to steady his breathing as Johnny led him up to a picturesque country home, then around the side, under a few lines of drying laundry, to the backdoor. Johnny gave the door a cursory rap as he pushed it open, he’d barely gotten one foot over the threshold when delighted cries resounded. 

An older woman, maybe fifty years old, came into view as she hustled over to yank Johnny down into a hug. A smile lit Johnny’s face, the likes of which Ghost had never seen before. It was warm and relieved, happy and teary. It looked like Johnny had been told ‘It’s all okay’ and -for the first time- actually believed it. Johnny and his mother held each other for a long moment, each just breathing the other in. Through the door Ghost could see that the space behind them was crowding with people, all impatiently waiting to have their go at hugging the returned MacTavish. 

Mrs Mactavish pulled away, reaching up to clasp Johnny’s face between her hands, planting a long kiss on his forehead, then pulling back again to look him over, murmuring to him in Scots Gaelic. Something Ghost, thanks to Johnny, could now recognize.

Johnny had warned him that it was the primary language spoken under the MacTavish roof, in deference to Johnny’s Grannie, whose grasp of English isn’t the best. Ghost had been forbidden from worrying about it and Johnny had assured and reassured him that "Ma an’ all ae mah wee siblings speak English jus’ fine", so he was trying his best to obey and not stress out. 

Mrs MacTavish released Johnny, prompting even more people to crowd into the room to get at him and Ghost redoubled his efforts to not freak out. Wishing he hadn’t been so adamant in rebuffing Johnny when he’d said no one would care if Ghost wore his mask. Being able to hide behind his balaclava would be really nice right about now. 

“Ye mus’ be this Ghost fella mah Coinneach is always yammering abou’,” The voice piping up at Ghost’s elbow does not make him jump. Ghost is a highly trained Special Forces Operative, he would notice a middle-aged Scottish woman approaching him before she spoke. He Would.

“Oh! Ah’m sorrae, laddie. Didnae mean tae spook ye,” Mrs MacTavish apologises, “Come in, Come in, Donnae stan’ on the stoop like y’ur no' welcome.” 

Ghost finds himself ushered into what he discovers is the kitchen of the house. To his right was the kitchen proper, there was what Ghost could only guess was a genuine wood stove crouched directly in front of the door and guarding the threshold, it was in direct competition with the gas cooker pressed against the far wall, bracketed by counters covered in various appliances that looked like they'd hopped straight off the pages of a fifties home catalogue, but still seemed to be in good repair. Quaintly, the cupboards hanging over them were closed with curtains rather than doors. The only acquiescences to the modern era seemed to be the nice big fridge humming away like an afterthought at the end of the counters, and the washer tucked away in the corner. 

It was a nice kitchen, it looked homey, lived in.

To his left was a long oval table with an assortment of seats surrounding it. Ghost could pick out a few chairs with carvings the same as the ones on the table’s legs that could only be the matching set, but they were outnumbered by ones that had clearly been added as needed. He could also spot a leaning stack of metal folding chairs half tucked behind a hutch in the back, clearly the MacTavish house was well accustomed to crowds. 

Ghost was chivvied into one of the seats around the table, his Special Forces joints extremely grateful for the soft cushion padding the chair and guarding him from the ache of the hard wood. A glance at his table mates revealed whom the cushioning was truly intended for. A lady that must be around seventy sat to his right, and to her right, at the head of the table, sat a man in the same age range. The man was watching him. 

Ghost took an educated guess and presumed that these must be Johnny’s Grannie and Grandad. 

Fucking Hell.

Johnny never told him their names. 

He’d always just referred to them as Grannie and Grandad, so Ghost had always called them ‘your Grannie and Grandad’ when asking after them. He didn’t even know if they were MacTavishs. Thinking about it, they were probably Johnny’s mother’s parents.

Oh, Bloody Fucking Hell.

What the fuck was Mrs MacTavish’s first name. 

How the hell had he managed to have a panic attack over memorizing the names of Johnny’s five siblings and never have the thought cross his mind to learn the names of his mother and grandparents. Ghost is in their house, sitting at their table, and he doesn’t have a single clue what their names are.

What the fuck, Johnny. 

The awkward staring contest he’d been entered into by Johnny’s Grandad was only growing more and more uncomfortable. It’d be rude to look away without saying anything, but what the fuck was he supposed to say, ‘Sorry for barging into your home, Johnny demanded Simon Riley crawl out of the grave that Ghost left him in to come meet the extended MacTavish family’?

Johnny rescued him by coming over to the table, leaning down to accept his Grandad’s seated one-armed hug and back pats, then pressing kisses to his Grannie’s cheek as he passed by on his way to drape himself over the back of Ghost’s chair, because sitting in his own chair like a normal human eludes Johnny. 

He talked back and forth with his grandparents for a moment then turned to Ghost to make the least helpful introduction he has ever been forced to be a part of, “Ghost, this is mah Grannie and Grandad,” Then turning to his grandparents, “This is mah L.T, Ghost.” 

Johnny’s Grandad seemed well used to Johnny’s foibles and reached an arm across the table to shake Ghost’s hand and supplement with his own introductions, “Ah’m Amhlaigh Milne, an’ this is the missus, Fionna Milne,”   

Amhlaigh Milne’s hands were broad with liverspots speckling their backs, textured by hard calluses and soft wrinkling skin. His handshake was cursory and firm. He was a man that had shaken a thousand hands before and had no interest in adding pomp or frippery to the exchange.

“Simon Riley, sir, ma’am,” Ghost replied, nodding to Mr then Mrs Milne, “Thank you for having me in your home,” 

Mrs Milne said something to Johnny in Scots Gaelic, sounding almost despairing. Johnny cried a shocked ‘Seanmhair!’ and a wild barking laugh carvoted out of the kitchen, followed by a multitude of variations on the same. Mrs MacTavish had been puttering about the kitchen getting tea and nibbles together, and was now bracing against the counters to not fall off her feet laughing. The people that Ghost hadn’t been introduced to, but could only assume were Johnny’s siblings, were leaning against each other and various pieces of furniture as they fought to stay upright on knees weakened by their cackling. 

Well, it was good to see that Johnny came by it honestly. 

Mrs MacTavish pulled herself together enough to pick up the tea tray and bring it over without spilling, the occasional giggle rattling through the teaset before she made it to the table. 

“Ma says-,” Mrs MacTavish cut herself off, planting a hand on the table as a new wave of laughter wracked her, Johnny was hiding his face behind a hand, but the deep red of his ears betrayed his blush, “Ma says, it’s guid tha’ Coinneach is the firs’ ae her grankids tae bring ‘ome a fella, bu’ did ye have tae be a fuckin’ sassenach!” 

The last of the translation is squeaked out in between laughs, but Ghost thinks he’s gotten the jist. Mrs Milne was hoping her grandchildren would bring home partners that were Scots. 

Add her to the tally of people Ghost had lived to disappoint. 

“None of your siblings have had partners before?” Ghost turns his head to address the question to Johnny, getting some vindictive pleasure from the offended squawks coming from the peanut gallery of siblings milling about in the kitchen.

“Nae, they’ve ‘ad partners, bu’ all ae 'em 'ave been too feart tae bring ‘em fer a visit,” Now Johnny is the one laughing, and the greedy beast that weaves through Ghost’s ribs squeezes tight, viscerally glad to have been the one to cause it. 

A succession of offended noises comes charging out of the kitchen, followed by the siblings in question. 

“Oi!” barks a young man with Johnny’s mousey brown hair, Mrs MacTavish’s straight nose, and hazel green eyes that Ghost doesn’t recognise, “Ah’m nae feart!” The rest of his defense is in Scots Gaelic and therefore lost to Ghost, but by the gasps and laughter it triggers, it’s nothing good. 

“Artair!” Mrs MacTavish scolds, and Ghost assigns the name to the face on the internal profiles he’s been habitually building in his head for Johnny’s family, “Donnae say tha’ we’ve company!”

“He cannae understan-” Artair complains,

“Tha’ donnae matter. Artair MacTavish, ye’ll watch y’ur tongue or so help me Jesus, Ah’ll give ye a doin’!” Mrs MacTavish asserts, hands on her hips. Nodding sharply when Artair obediently subsides, “Noo, did ye wan’ a cuppa, Ghost?” She presents the full tea service to Ghost.

“Please, call me Simon, Mrs MacTavish,” Ghost almost begs of the woman, being addressed by his callsign by such a motherly figure is disconcerting in ways that Ghost refuses to analyze. 

“Simon i’ tis,” Mrs MacTavish easily agrees, and starts identifying the nibbles she's brought over, “These ‘ere are egg an’ cress pieces, bridies, butteries, tablet, an’ shor’ bread. Have y’ur pick ae the lot.” 

“Mo ciallian, did ye-” 

“Nae, Da. Ah didnae pu’ onions in the bridies,” Mrs MacTavish supplied before her father could finish his question.

“Guid lass. Pass us up a few, noo. There's a guid lad,” Mr Milne chivvies Johnny into popping a few on a plate for him, Ghost was fascinated to see Johnny automatically make up and pass along a cup of coffee too. His family had never had that kind of camaraderie. A sudden wave of despair welled up to drown him as the unwelcome thought that he had no idea how his mother used to take her tea and there was no one left that he could ask struck him.

Johnny gently squeezed at the nape of his neck, bending down to put their heads in line, so that he could mutter to Ghost what exactly was in all the snacks Mrs MacTavish had just offered him. If Ghost leaned into the contact, buoyed by Johnny’s presence, that was between him and the devil, thank you very much. 

Having clocked the identity of the coffee pot, Ghost got himself a tea from the teapot. Opening dishes until he found the milk powder, he mindlessly filled a mug with coffee for Johnny and slid it over along with the milk bowl, setting the dish back amongst the teaset when Johnny had taken what he wanted. The teapot was ensconced in a nicely knitted plaid tea cosy, a brief glance up at Johnny netted him a nod, and he studied the cosy with more interest. 

So this was the MacTavish… hmm.

Another glance to Johnny, with a tip of his head in Mr Milne’s direction. Another distracted nod from Johnny, one of his sisters was ranting to him about an incompetent chef. 

So this was the Milne tartan. 

A woman burst through the backdoor, a small dog following at her heels. Another ecstatic cry went up and the family rushed to welcome her home. Johnny had told him that this was the first time all the MacTavish children would be under the same roof in years, Johnny’s mother had been planning it for months. 

“Kennie!” the latest addition cheered, breaking free of the scrum to tackle Johnny in a hug, “How’ve ye been! Still ten, ten, an’ two?” 

Johnny threw his head back in a laugh, then held up his hands to wiggle his ten fingers at her, “Aye, ah’ve still go’ all mah bits, Maggie.” 

Ghost watched the crease of his eyes, the flash of his teeth, the jump of his chest. Glutting himself on Johnny’s happiness. 

“So ye finally brough’ us y’ur man,” Maggie nodded in Ghost’s direction, a released Johnny coming to perch at Ghost’s shoulder again. Memorizing her face Ghost updated his profiles, this must be Maighread, the youngest. 

“Aye, doin’ Ma proud, Ah am,” Johnny retorted, “Pickin’ up the slack ae allae youse,” 

“Oi,” Maighread barked with a laugh, bending to pick up the dog that had been standing on its hindlegs to paw at her thighs, “A’ leas’ ah’ve brough’ Ma her firs’ grankid,” 

“Aye, right.” Johnny conceded, reaching forward to give the dog a few pats, “An’ how’s wee Calum been farin’?” 

“He’s grand! Vet said he’s great joints for nine,” Maighread enthused, then gave Calum a smooch on the head and pressed him into Johnny’s arms, “ ‘ere, be a lad an’ hold him while I say hullo to ar seann-phàrantan,” 

Watching Johnny juggle a small grey dog and a hot mug of coffee twisted a smile onto Ghost’s face. 

“Calum?” He let the question stand on its own and was gratified by Johnny’s response.

“Aye, he’s Maggie’s wee lad. A mini schnauzer. She go’ ‘im off a breeder, he didnae qualify fer a showdog, so noo ‘e’s the first MacTavish grankid. Ma’s go’ ‘im in the albums an’ every’hing.” Hearing Johnny’s accent thickening with every second that he spent amongst his fellow Scots was captivating, “Maggie trea’s ‘im like ‘e’s her own bairn.”

Ghost is not legally obligated to confirm or deny whether he did or did not open a mental profile for Calum the nine year old miniature schnauzer. 

“Why’re you holding him?” Ghost asked,

“Dae ye wan’ tae?” Johnny asked in return. That hadn’t been why he’d asked, but he wasn’t going to say no. 

Ghost nodded and scooted back from the table to give Johnny room to set the warm armful of dog on his lap, carefully bringing his arm around to make sure Calum didn’t accidentally fall. 

Calum the miniature schnauzer snuffled at his face, his shirt, his hands, then seemed perfectly content to take a seat on his lap, propping his forepaws up on the table, like he truly was part of the family. 

“Aye, tha’s fine,” Johnny supplied at Ghost's questioning look, “Donnae le’ ‘im jump up or no’hing, bu’ it’s fine as long as ye wipe the table after ‘e gets doon.”

Ghost was then perfectly content to sit, drinking his tea and petting the dog weighing down his legs. Normally the hustle and bustle of the many people talking and swarming about the rooms would quickly become too much for Ghost and he would need to take a break or else risk disassociating or having a panic attack, but oddly he was feeling fine. 

With Johnny standing sentinel at his shoulder, his hip pressed against Ghost’s side, and his arm arm idly draped across the back of his chair, Ghost was able to feel secure where he was. In spite of the commotion and chatter around him. 

Eventually the whole MacTavish brood was sat to the table, including Calum, who had abandoned Ghost to curl up on Maighread’s lap as soon as his owner had sat down. With cuppas and plates of nibbles close to hand, the air thrummed with idle chatter. Everyone updating and catching up, sharing the newest gossip about people that the table’s occupants would never meet. Mr Milne clearing his throat muted the room, though the silence wasn’t the oppressive tension that Ghost’s father had loved to employ, rather it was more of a curious waiting. 

“Riley, ‘ave ye met,” Mr Milne cast a wide gesture out to encompass the entire room, grunting like he’d expected as much when Ghost replied with a quick ‘No, Sir’, and then proceeding to efficiently go around the table, putting names to faces.

“Mah oldes’ daugh’er, Oighrig.”

“Oh, jus' call me Effie, dear,” Mrs MacTavish interjected,  

“Oighrig’s oldes’, Iseabail,” Mr Milne spoke on, unphased, 

“Izzie,” The woman sat to Johnny’s left offered,

“Ye know Coinneach o’course,” Mr Milne didn’t miss a beat and Ghost got the feeling that this was routine for him,

“Folk ‘roun ‘ere call me Kennie,” Johnny grinned up at him, his chair leg-to-leg with Ghost’s, letting Johnny easily press up against Ghost’s left arm,

“Then the twins, Donella-”

“Nella,” Chirps the woman directly across from Ghost

“an' Eilionoir,”

“Ellie,” Spoke the identical woman sat to Donella’s right, 

“Artair,” The young man sat to the right of Eilionoir offered only a nod, “our younges’, Maighread,” Mr Milne indicated the woman sat to his own right,

“Call me Maggie,” She offered with a bright smile, 

“An’ Maighread’s Calum,” Mr Milne rounded out, giving the dogs ears a ruffle.

Ghost gave the table a nod, “It’s good to meet you all, thank you for having me,”

His thanks are immediately waved away, eight separate voices speaking their denials of any thanks being necessary. Ghost holds his hands up in surrender and sits back to sip his tea 

“So Ellie, did ye tell tha’ man wit’ the gormless ring idea tae get tae fuck?” Maighread’s question forces an aggravated sigh out of Eilionoir, and with that the conversation moves on. 

Ghost is happy to have the attention off him, but is even happier to revel in the line of heat that comes from Johnny pressed tight against his side. Planting a hand on Johnny's leg, Ghost silently urges him impossibly closer, appeased by the way Johnny immediately obliges him. Scooting half off his chair he pushes down on Ghost’s shoulder and tugs him around by the waist so Ghost's slumped back against Johnny’s chest. Perfectly aligned for Johnny to drop his head down to rest his chin on Ghost’s shoulder, the soft scratch of the shaved sides of his warhawk rasping over Ghost’s ear and rubbing intoxicatingly against his cheek. Ghost squeezes at the leg he hadn’t released and revels in the tight squeeze Johnny returns to him.   

No one at the table gives their new seating arrangement a second glance and Ghost allows himself to wholly relax. Dropping his weight back onto Johnny without any fear of falling. 

There aren’t words for the feeling that fills up Ghost’s chest. The closest might be devotion. A gluttonous loyalty, content to share only because it gains him ever more of Johnny, others drawing out sides of him Ghost can’t. A burning obsession that banks and surges with every moment, every glance, every touch that Johnny allows him. 

What else is he meant to feel for a man that brings him home.

Thank You For Reading!

So the idea I set out with was "Soap takes ghost home to meet the family, ghost gets a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people, and realises he’s treating soap like some absurd mix of a touch/worry stone and a therapy dog. Thereby realising that soap makes him feel safe, and that wherever soap is, is home to him." I don't know how that became 3000 words, but here we are.

For anyone curious here are my notes on the MacTavish family:

Amhlaigh Milne -Grandad Fionna Milne - Grannie 69yo Oighrig MacTavish - Mother 53yo Iseabail(lesbian, the devil's advocate, she likes to look like the reasonable one and sometimes she is, trained as a professional chef, Job: restaurant owner) 34yo +1yr Coinneach John, 33yo +2yrs Eilionoir(Poly, is used to sharing Donella's partner, is not attracted to Donella, thoughtful and assessing, judgemental, realist leaning pessimist, job: makes jewelry) Donella(Poly, is used to sharing Eilionoir's partner, is not attracted to Eilionoir, more outspoken, open-minded, optimist, Job: professional horse trainer,) 31yo +3yrs Artair(sarcastic, always has a comment, acts like the baby of the family, Job: broker, he gets a budget from his client to find a specific/rare item for them, he bids in auctions and stuff), 28/yo +1yr Maighread(is the baby of the family, no one asks Maggie to do anything she doesnt want to, kind, warm, obliging, but not selfless or overly giving, Job: house sitter). 27/yo

Eilionoir and Donella live together and have four cats, all of which used to be stray cats. Their names are Sir Gawain, Darcy, Croissant, and Soot.

A photo of Calum to make it fair.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[thehighladywrites]

— “ an unexpected twist ”

⋆˙⟡ pairing: professor eris vanserra x reader, part 3

⋆˙⟡ summary: you spend every weekend at eris’s mansion, what happens this time? Who is Eris Vanserra and how come he is so rich on a professors salary? GASP A PLOT TWIST

⋆˙⟡ warnings: mentions of smut, tw talks of beron vanserra🤢, abusive childhood, eris dropping huge stacks of money on you, eris channeling his inner sugar daddy, you call him daddy for the first time ever, mentions of an unalive body.

⋆˙⟡ amara���s note: i’m not going to lie the plot twist is either a banger or the messiest thing i’ve ever written (pls be a banger)

part 1, part 2

In the gentle morning light, you lay there in his bed, your lover's bed, serenely unaware of him, enchanted by the sight of you.

Eris had been awake for hours, yet the idea of leaving the cocoon of your warmth never crossed his mind. He marveled at the sheer luck of having someone as incredible as you in his life.

Last night, he came to the realization that he had started to feel mushy and in love with you. The thought still rattled him, and he couldn't shake the slight wariness that you held the power to influence his feelings.

Feelings, thoughts, and open discussions were never entertained in the Vanserra household. Eris and his brothers had been raised by their abusive father, who subjected them to verbal, physical, and emotional abuse. Their father manipulated them into accepting and believing whatever suited his agenda.

Through the passing years, Eris had finely tuned his act as the heartbreakingly cold and scornful eldest son. The mask of cruelty clung to him so persistently that he found himself questioning if it was a facade or a painful reflection of his true self.

When his old man kicked the bucket, Eris felt like a ton of bricks was off his back – turns out, it was just an act. Now, with the nosy observer out of the picture, he went all out decorating his room, something he couldn't do growing up. At firat he felt stupid for being happy about being able to change his room because it was something so normalized but he realized how much it healed his inner child. No more walking on eggshells; he could finally kick back. Where did he celebrate his first taste of freedom? The same bar where he first bumped into you.

Grinning at the notion, Eris not only shed a heavy burden but also welcomed newfound brightness into his life. He was determined not to mess things up in any way.

Fully aware that his actions were objectively wrong, Eris couldn't muster the will to change course. He had succumbed to love, a fertile ground for obsession. While he concealed that side for now, he knew it would eventually surface.

The gentle stir in his arms brought Eris back to the present. A warm feeling enveloped his heart as he looked down at you, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, savoring the sweet moment.

Bending down, Eris pressed a gentle kiss on your head, catching the sweet aroma of the strawberry-scented shampoo you insisted he use. Amused by the fact that his hair had never been smoother, he looked at you with a smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Want to do something fun today?” he suggested.

Excited, you sat up straight, a huge grin on your face, eager for some fun. When you asked him what he had in mind, Eris leaned in, maintaining eye contact, and handed you a black card with a hint of mystery.

“Go crazy,” he smirked, settling in with his glasses, preparing to read the book laying on the nightstand.

You stared at the black card and then at him. The question lingered – how did a professor end up with a black card? Weren't those reserved for big spenders and invite-only privileges?

“There's no need to be shy, love. Ask whatever it is you want to ask,” he reassured you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Your cheeks warmed at how well he seemed to know you.

“How are you so rich? I mean, no offense, but I thought professors and teachers weren’t really that... well-off,” you inquired, genuine curiosity in your voice.

“I'm not only a professor, beautiful. I worked at my father’s company before he passed, and now I’m the owner and the CEO. Teaching is just a side job,” he explained, shedding light on his financial standing.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that. So what do you do?” you asked.

“Investment banking,” he replied quickly, not seemingly open to having a conversation about it.

You didn’t really know what that meant but you also really didn’t care. He had money and you were gonna spend it.

“Huh, okay. Does that mean I can buy whatever I want?” you tilted your head at him, a teasing expression on your face with slightly raised eyebrows.

“You can buy whatever you want. Start off by adding the card to your Apple Pay wallet. I want to pay for whatever it is you need. Don’t worry about anything anymore, my love.”

He kissed your forehead, and the gesture made your vision slightly blurry. Eris took such good care of you, and the desire to make him proud lingered in your heart. Wanting to lightheartedly joke with him you tell him how much he reminds you of a dominating sugar daddy.

“Yeah? A dom sugar daddy, huh? How about you come here and give me something sweet, then?”

His taunting voice almost turned your brain to mush. This dynamic was entirely new and felt amazing. Eris embodied a provider, protector, and lover, all in one. No more worrying about the bare minimum or small things – he treated you like a queen. Unlike people your age, he didn't play games or ask for something in return for his gestures; it was a standard for him, a refreshing change.

You were well aware that Eris's fucking would leave you in need of a nap, so you decided to playfully tease him now, saving the rest for later.

“I promise to give you something real sweet after I’m done shopping, daddy.”

Damn. You knew you should’ve saved it for later. The man grabbed your giggling form and quickly turned it into moans, whimpers and sobs.

—

Obviously and sadly you couldn’t go outside together and shop so you had to order things online, but it was fine because it was so much more convenient this way. With a few clicks, your numerous packages arrived. Was it rude to order so much on someone else’s card? Hmm… maybe for regular people, but not for you. The man had a black card aka no fucking limit. You could buy literally anything and it would go through. So you did what any sane person with an unlimited budget did.

You shopped your ass off.

Clothes, makeup, skincare, books – you turned his doorstep into a glam runway. Nails, lashes, hair appointments – basically, you scheduled a spa day for yourself via delivery. Waxes, new phone case, upgraded computer – you were basically giving your whole life a makeover. Better shoes, nicer bag – You didn't just shop; you leveled up your entire wardrobe.

When you saw the damage of your shopping spree in his living room your cheeks heated as you looked at him with an apologetic smile.

But Eris wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. There was truly no better feeling than being able to spoil you. He loved your facial expressions when you saw something that caught your eye, loved the way your eyes sparkled when you saw a cute piece of jewelry that you just had to have. Your unapologetic way of spending his money was such a turn on for him. You sure showed him how much you appreciate him…

—

The weekend with Eris was almost over, and the thought of going back to school didn't sit well with you. Being with him felt comfortable and safe, away from potentially judgmental eyes and consequences. Now, you had to act like he's just another professor, dealing with thirsty whispers from fellow students that made your fists tighten. And don't get started on Professor Jensen – despite your warnings, she still managed to hover around Eris. Guess you’d just prove your words weren’t just words and that being around Eris would give her consequences. The return to the school routine felt like a looming storm, and you weren't looking forward to it.

You voiced your concerns to him and he gave you comfort and promised that you’d be spending more time with each other next weekend and all weekends forward.

After your final night routine, you fall asleep together, finding comfort and warmth in each other's embrace. The room quieted down, and your drift off into a peaceful slumber.

—

However, the peace was short-lived. Hearing a muffled thud, you attempted to snuggle closer to Eris, only to find his heated presence absent. Sitting up, you assumed he might be in the bathroom. As minutes passed without his return, worry crept in, and the realization hit you – you had grown accustomed to his warmth, and now, sleep seemed impossible without him by your side.

You got a blanket and wrapped it around you, got into the fuzzy slipper he got you and went to look for him.

Shirtless, Eris stood there, speaking harshly into his phone. Another male voice emanated from the speaker, filled with concern and fear.

“I won't repeat myself. The deal happens tomorrow night, or you will face consequences. Inquire with your father. Oh, wait, that’s right, you can't.”

Eris's voice turned taunting and cruel, unlike the playful teasing you were familiar with. This was a cold demeanor you hadn't seen before, a stark departure from the Eris you had grown accustomed to.

“Eris?”

His entire body froze, not expecting to see you awake. He prayed to every god and whatever people prayed to these days that the man on the phone didn't hear your voice. Because there was no telling what he’d do if he found out Eris had a weak spot. He reminded the man of what he said and hung up before turning around and going back into the warm Eris you knew.

“What are you doing up, princess? It's 2 in the morning,” he smiled so warmly and softly at you, it nearly made you forget your words.

“I couldn’t sleep without you. What’s going on? You sounded angry, is everything okay?”

He looked at you with tenderness, grabbing your cheeks before kissing you softly.

“It was just one of my employees at the company who had been slacking off a bit. Don’t worry about me, my love. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You nodded at him, lifting your arms in a sleepy gesture for him to lift you up. With a chuckle and no difficulty, he complied.

Eris cradled your head in the crook of his neck, strategically shielding your view. Unbeknownst to you, his men worked silently in the background, discreetly cleaning up the dead body. He fervently prayed that your drowsiness kept you oblivious to the grim details.

Crossing his fingers, Eris also hoped the presence of his gun on the nearby table escaped your notice in the dimly lit room.

🏷️ taglist: @teenageeggscissorslawyer @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay @vellichor01 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @rowaelinsdaughter @meshellexplosionmurder @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @candyjaypoppins @natashachelsea @whatthefuckshappeningrn @acourtofbatboydreams

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hello there^^

I saw that your requests are open so i wanted to give it a try. There are a lot of fics that show the reader and baldwin being in a relationship or it slowly developing into such. But i dont really see any fics containing what it was like before the romantic aspects ensued.

Which gave me idea of wanting a story about how the reader and baldwin met. I think it would be adorable to see how little reader and little baldwin got along with eachother platonically before realizing that they both love eachother in a different and more intimate way than they already do hehe.

Also, i wanted to say that i love your work. And i really appreciate the amazing people who make fanart, fanfics, and a lot of many other different content for this little fandom. Like you!

Thank you for blessing us with our daily bread and i hope you take care of yourself and have a great day!

♡ The Fireflies - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fuff ♡

A/N: Hello Hana! This is such a cute request, thank you for your love and support 🫶. I hope this is what you had in mind! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

Baldwin was nine when he was diagnosed with leprosy.

He was sixteen when he left for battle.

He was twenty when his disease got so severe he was required to wear a mask.

And of all people in his life, it was y/n who was by his side for every single moment. His best friend then wife.

She was outside the royal chambers as the physicians worked on him for the first time, poking and prodding his body with cold metal instruments to test if their fears were true.

She was the one who kissed his forehead before he left for battle.

She was the one who missed his smile the very most when it was replaced with a cold, iron mask.

They were both so young when their worst nightmare came true.

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

It was early morning when the young boys played in the castle courtyard. Each of them only children.

Y/n sat off to the side in the grass with Sybila, watching the boys play.

The two girls made chains with wildflowers that stuck up out of the grass in abundance while the boys played with pretend swords and shields.

Unbeknownst to y/n, Baldwin watched her from a distance. She looked so pretty sitting there in the grass, her hair spilling around her shoulders, framing her face just right.

��OOOOH BALDWIN HAS A CRUSHHH!” one of the young boys taunted from behind him. “I DO NOT!” he yelled back, striking the boy with the wooden sword, using all his strength.

The boy hit back and in an attempt to block his attack, Baldwin's arm was sliced open with the sharpened wood of the sword. Blood trickled down his arm, hitting the ground in small beads. But he took no notice of this, striking the other boy in the head, knocking him to the ground.

It wasn't until a loud shriek from one of the other boys at the large gash on his arm that he noticed the blood. One of the boys ran off to alert an adult as Baldwin stared at his arm in disbelief.

Sybila ran to her brother and y/n followed to help him inside. Oddly enough, he did not feel any pain.

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

When he was taken to the physicians, y/n waited with his sister anxiously, fearing the worst. It had been noted instantly that Baldwin had felt no pain from the wound and this sparked the attention of many.

Soon, the news spread around the castle about the boy's recent diagnosis.

Y/n was permitted from seeing him for the remainder of the day as the physicians worked to ensure that their fears were in fact correct. 

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

By nightfall, y/n was fed up with waiting. She left her chambers and headed silently down the hall to his rooms.

When she eventually reached the large wooden doors, she knocked softly in a pattern that the two had decided would be their “secret code”, so they knew who was at the door.

“Come in” a small, broken voice called out.

Y/n entered to find the boy sitting on his bed, tears stained his cheeks and he looked very tired. “Blondie, are you okay? What's wrong?” she said with worry, her kind yet urgent voice calmed the young boy's heart just a little, as did the nickname she had given him a few years priour.

“I.. I don't know” he muttered as she sat down beside him. The girl wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to her. “They haven't told me anything… y/n, am I dying?” he looked up at her, his blue eyes that usually sparkled, were filled with tears and fear.

“You're not dying, I'm sure you will be okay” she gave him a small smile. The boy shrugged and rested his head on his friend's shoulder.

Just then, the girl had an idea. “Hey, why don't you come to my chambers for the night? We could have a sleepover, it would be really fun!” she grinned cheerfully, standing from the bed and offering a hand for him to take. Baldwin's eyes lit up at the idea.

“Yeah that sounds fun!” his voice sounded less broken now. He wiped his eyes and stood up to follow his friend. Taking her hand, they walked as quietly as they could back to the girls chambers. 

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

Once inside, they stripped all the covers off y/n’s bed, pushed two couches closer together and draped sheets over the top to create a small cave, just big enough for them to fit inside.

They decorated it with pillows and blankets to make a bed, and finally they were finished.

The two crawled inside and laid down next to each other, giggling at their work. “You were right, this is fun!” Baldwin said, turning to look at y/n with the crooked grin that she loved so much, plastered to his face.

“Yeah, I hope you feel better now” she replied with a smile. The boy nodded, taking a second to admire how pretty she was before speaking again.

“Hey, do you want to hear a scary story?” he said with a smirk. Y/n giggled and nodded, sitting up in preperation.

They stayed up late that night, sharing stories of witches and the undead, scaring each other and giggling at each other's terrified faces until they fell asleep during the early hours of the morning.

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

Y/n was the first to wake.

Her eyes blinked open slowly and she stretched as her body came awake. She smiled as the memories from the night priour came back to her.

Turning onto her side, she saw her friend still sprawled out beside her, sleeping soundly.

Quietly as possible so as to not wake him, she crept out of their makeshift home to get dressed.

Once she was dressed for the day with her hair brushed, she crawled back into the fort to wake Baldwin. She shook his shoulder gently, “blondie, wake up! Its morning now!” she whispered, grinning when he shifted.

Baldwin groaned and opened his eyes, just enough too see her. “Y/n its too earlyyy” he whined, pulling the covers over his face.

“Come on sleepy head its time to get up!” the girl giggled, prodding his shoulder. Begrudgingly, the boy sat up as y/n pulled his arm to drag him out of the fort.

Once he was dressed as well, the two went to the dining room for breakfast.

The day proceeded as usal.

Baldwin carried on with his royal duties as prince, putting the diagnosis in the back of his mind. That was until night fell again and his fathers physicians came to his chambers to check on him.

As the cold, metal instruments poked at his arms and legs, he caught himself wishing that y/n was there to comfort him with a silly joke or a story.

When the men left his room, he finally allowed himself to cry.

He cried for a long time in the cold, dimly lit room.

Was he really going to die? A thousand questions flooded his mind. “Am I really going to die so young? Will I never get married or have children? Will I never get old enough to be king? What will-” a knock came from the wooden door, snapping him out of his thoughts.

But this was not just any knock, it was the secret code that y/n had come up with.

He wiped his tears quickly and called for her to come in. The girl hurried into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Blondie, come quick, you need to see this!” she sounded exited and was fully dressed in a warm looking cloke and day clothes, she also carried a candle stick with her .

The boy did not heasetate to get out of bed and put on his shoes to follow.

As quietly as they could, they crept down the hallway and outside to the castle courtyard.

“Y/n, slow down, where are we going?!” the boy called out too her.

“Just hurry, you dont want to miss this!” she replied, taking his hand to lead him.

Eventually, the two reached the small pond in the castle courtyard that the children were forbidden from going near.

“Y/n, we are not supposed to play by the water! My mother said its dangerous!” Baldwin whispered urgently.

“Stop being such a baby, look at this!” with that, the girl put licked her fingers and put out the candle, plunging the two into darkness.

Or what would have been darkness if it wasnt for the thousands of fireflies that swarmed the pond. The boy was lost for words.

“Theyre beautiful arent they?” y/n said softly, sitting down on the grass. “Yes.. they are wonderful” he replied, joining her on the grass.

The girl chuckled, “are you glad you trusted me now?” she said, moving closer too him.

A grin spread across Baldwin’s face, “yes, this is amazing” he replied, his eyes not leaving the pond and the hundreds of tiny glowing lights.

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

The moment was beautiful and something the two of them would remember for years into the future.

In times of pain, one would often whisper to the other, “remeber the fireflies my love” and the memories would come back to defeat whatever agony plagued the two, as a symbol of their ever lasting love for eachother.

[daddypriceugh]

Favourite nurse part. 2

First of all I want to apologise for the late update. I got the flu 2 weeks ago and wasn't motivated to write anything.

I'm really sorry for the wait but I made this chapter longer :) it's smut <3 I'm not good at writing it but I tried. Have fun!!!

Tw: smut

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

"It won't fit Simon"

"I'll make it fit"

You may ask how you got into this situation, well let's see:

♤Flashback♤

"One shot for me and the lady" A voice said over the loud music in the pub. A voice you would recognise anywhere: it was Gho- Simon. But he didn't wear a mask this time.

It's been two week since you last saw him because he actually didn't turn up at the hospital. To your suprise.

You had kind of missed him. Especially the way his eyes would follow every move you would make. It made you nervous but also aroused. Would he look the same at you when naked?

You were ripped out of your thoughts by the shot being placed on the table in front of you.

"Didn't think I would see you here, Doc"

A small laugh escaped your red tinted lips.

"Well I love surprising people I guess" He hums in agreement.

"You were able to stay unharmed. Got my respect"

He chuckled at your words, gulping down his shot.

"Well I was forbidden to come back, wasn't I" he turned his head in your direction, eyes staring into yours. There was something calm in them but also something you couldn't decipher what it was.

A small formed on your face. "I didn't forbid it, I just don't want to see you hurt. Can't judge me for doing my job"

He opened his mouth to answer but a chair was suddenly thrown through the bar. A fight broke out.

Simon had grabed your hand in less than a second and pulled you to the exit. The fresh and cold night air hit your face.

"You wanna go to my flat?"

His random question shocked you for a moment. Did he want to continue the talk? Or maybe...

"Yeah sure" ~~~~~~~~~~~ You now sat on his couch while ge was grabbing some wine.

His flat was a bit bland. There weren't many pictures or plants, the furniture was modern yet classic. It all suited him well.

He came back with two glasses of wine and sat down next to you, putting the glasses on the table.

It was quiet.

You looked at him, only to see him already starring at you. Fuck was he hot. You could already feel yourself getting warm. Well more like your vagina.

A minute went by and none of you broke the eye contact, and you couldn't take this tension anymore. 'Fuck it' you thought and grabbed his face between your hands to smash your lips on his.

He didn't seem surprised because he instantly kissed back. The once gentle kiss became faster and more desperate. You lifted yourself on his lap to grind against him, feeling his hard erection in his jeans.

He let out a soft moan at your movement, putting his hands on your waist to help you guide.

"Do you want this?" He asked with a breathy voice. You nodded yes and pulled your shirt off.

You smirked a little at his reaction, knowing it was because of the lack of your bra.

"Dirty girl" he growled, his mouth latching onto one nipple, pulling and biting it a bit. You moaned in response, quickening your pace.

Once he let go of your breast, his hands wrapped around you to lift you up. He carried you to his bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

"Never thought I would see you like that, doc" "Shut up and fuck me already" He laughed at your response.

"Your wish be my comand"

Your pants and panties were down in a second and his fingers were feeling your wet lips. You bit back a moan at the feeling.

"So wet for me already tz tz. Don't even have to prepare you, mh?"

He slipped two fingers inside your folds and groaned. He then began to move them in a slow pace.

"Fuck your so tight, my love. So thight and wet for my fucking cock"

His fingers sped up and he added another on inside. He curled them a bit and looked at you to see your reaction. You were a moaning mess under him. Sweat dripped down your forehead and your nipples were hard. You felt your first orgasm nearing.

"C'mon baby cum for me. I can feel you clenching"

You came on comand and let out a loud moan. You never came that fast before.

He pulled off his shirt and pants to reveal his throbbing member. And damn was it big. Too big. It was long and thick, a bit curved to the right. Twp long veins went from the tips to the bottom. He looked fucking delicious.

Simon crawled on top of you and kissed you. It was gently and full of passion.

"Do you really want this? We can stop if you want" he said as he broke the kiss apart.

Your heart swelled at his worry.

"I want it. I want it with you Simon" You whispered. A smiles formed on his face.

"Then prepare yourself to get ruined"

He planted on hand on the right side of your head and the other went downwards to his dick.

He started rubbing it over your pussy, creaming himself in your juices. You moaned out in anticipation.

♤flackback ends♤

"It won't fit Simon"

"I'll make it fit"

At that he pushed his whole length into your hole. You half screamed at the intrusion, wrapping your legs around his waist, nails clawing into his back.

"You're so fuckin' tight love I can feel you trying to clench around my cock" He groaned.

You stayed in this position and he waited for you to give him the signal to continue. You did.

He put his hand on your waist and stared fucking you at a normal pace. Yet you could swear you felt every single edge and vein of his dick. It felt amazing.

After a while he decided to speed the whole thing up and started rubbing your clit. The moans that left your mouth only seemed to encourage him even more to move quicker.

But he himself wasn't quiet either. He let our small groand and huffs while pumping his dick into you. Minutes went by and you noticed his moved becoming more frantic.

"Fuck I'm close, where do you want it?"

"Inside pl-please"

You could also feel you high coming nearer ever time he ramed into you.

And there it was. Your walls clenched around him and your stomach thighend. You came with a scream which was half muffeled by his mouth capturing yours.

"Fuck sweetheart y-you made a mess" he laughs while trying to chase his own orgasm. He sped his pace up again.

"Fuck fuck fuck"

He then came with a groan and nearly collapsed on you. He pulled out and layed down besides you.

After some seconds of peace you were pulled into his arms, lips touching your hairline.

"You did so well for me. I'm proud of you, my girl"

"Weren't bad yourself, big guy" You said while smiling.

He laughed breathlessly and slowly got up. Your puzzled look at his action made him open his mouth. "I'm gonna grab a towel and clean you up okay? After that we can sleep a bit"

You nodded tiredly "Yeah sound nice" Simon bended over to give you one last kiss before leaving the room.

You breathed out in satisfaction. "Fucking hell"

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hobie getting angry headcanons

Based off of @hei-chans post <3 check them out they're cool

tw: these are mostly him with my Sona (Maitreyi 🥰)

he doesn't get angry often he's a pretty chill guy and fairly nonviolent

except the moment he gets pushed over the edge his whole demeanor changes and he can go berserk

now before you get mad at me for saying that just think about it

he's spider-man and obviously gonna be fairly stressed considering how he's completely by himself trying to take down Osborne's regime in his universe

and he's pretty okay with violence in his comics (he gets drunk before fights too)

so when he gets angry I like to think he gets angry

its like that silent anger where he's just seething and glaring at the person who did whatever they did

the kind of glare that makes you cower and squirm and subconsciously feel guilty even if you didn't do anything

things that make him mad are usually people being stupid, as in being really brash and overconfident about something and not being openminded about other opinions

trying to tell someone what to do when they didn't ask

putting other people down for not knowing something

or any vulgar comments about a person's appearance or personality

they all give him the ick and he immediately goes into anger mode when it happens

examples:

when Maitreyi came to his universe for the first time he took her to his favorite pub and one of his friends started talking to her like she was stupid, mansplaining, making fun of her accent, her clothes, whatever, and hobie got so mad that he kicked the guy out and never spoke to him again

he's a huge feminist so if anyone ever tries to mansplain something to her he'll never talk to them again (but he let's her handle herself in those situations cuz he knows she can)

another example is when somebody tried to hit on gwen while she was staying at his place in her universe and didn't stop even after she got uncomfortable so hobie literally kicked his ass and bought his drummer ice cream to make up for it

pavitr gets bullied sometimes in his universe by people who make fun of his accent and clothes (he's from a small town so he has a different accent than the others in Mumbattan) so hobie pulled a kdrama move, pulled his mask on and absolutely beat their asses (they never bothered pavi again <3)

like I said he doesn't get angry often but when someone goes too far he makes sure they know it

whether its by beating their ass or cutting them off

and once you get on his bad side its hard to come back from that

its hard to make him dislike you but once he does he probably won't like you again

congrats on getting this far down have a hobie

@daydreaming-en-pointe I thought you'd like these also @spidey-bie I wonder how he'd act if someone was being rude to ansi? would he get mad or would he let them handle it? im curious

[h-c-u]

No longer a secret pt 5

Summary: The one with the race and plans for the immediate future.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: 6.2k (I honestly don't know how and when that happened)

Rating: PG, age gap

TWs: none

A/N: We all love protective Toto. but what about protective reader...? Also - me...? Doing a fade to black...? It's more likely than you think!

Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie, @omgsuperstarg

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

The first thing you noticed after waking up was a familiar scent, but it wasn't enough to force you to get up just yet. The second thing was that you were no longer on the couch, but in bed, which meant Toto must have moved you while you slept. Third came the realization that the familiar scent was masking another one, much more bitter and smokey, which could only mean... Toto was cooking. 

You couldn't help but laugh quietly, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. It's not like he was bad at cooking, because you knew he could make a few really good dishes, but when it came to going out of his comfort zone - well, he was focusing too much on instructions and either lost track of time reading them or was following them to the letter, even if whatever he was cooking definitely didn't need more time in the oven. Or needed much more. But the fact that he was trying his best to do something for you was enough to put you in a good mood. 

You quietly opened the door to the living room, and walking only on your toes, you came closer to him and wrapped your arms around his hips from behind, which didn't even make him flinch. At the beginning of your relationship, he would always jump and once he even accidentally elbowed you in the face, but now he had developed this 6th sense and he could just feel when you were close, no words needed. And when you weren't putting almost any weight on your heels, making your steps silent - it became useful to him and irritating to you, because you weren't able to scare him so easily no more. 

You pressed your cheek to his back for a short moment, before taking a quick look at what was happening in the pan, and you almost instantly turned down the flame, wrapped your fingers around his hand that was currently on a panhandle, and guided it off heat. 

- The pan is too hot, that's why they're burning so fast... - you said with a smile. It's not like the arepas were burned to a carbon crisp, but instead of being golden, they had some very dark brown spots and that’s what was causing a bitter smell in the suite. 

- Well, they are made with love, not with skill... - he chuckled and turned the last few in a still extremely hot pan. He knew arepas were your comfort food, especially with potatoes, mozzarella cheese, onions, garlic, and rosemary. And by the looks of what was happening in the kitchen, you could say that he made this variant. You also knew that it must have taken him quite some time to prepare everything; time which you spent blissfully asleep. 

- Well... I love that you made them. - you pressed a gentle kiss somewhere around his shoulder blade because you couldn't reach higher without standing on your toes. - Thank you. I know it's something out of your comfort zone, and I appreciate that you left it to make me feel better. - you said quietly, leaning against him, but instead of letting you stay like that, he turned around, put his hands around your hips, and lifted you in the air to put you on the kitchen island, so your faces were on a much more similar level now. 

- You are my comfort zone, Schatzi... - he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips and the warmth spilled all over your body. He was so unapologetically in love with you that there were moments when it took you off guard because you weren't used to people around you behaving like that. And it's not like you loved him any less, you just expressed it... differently. But that might have been a fault of your inner Brit still struggling to be so open with your feelings, although you were actively working on changing that, at least around Toto.

He put the least burned but still hot arepas on the plate and passed it to you, but you just put it on the counter next to you, took one in your hands, and bit into it. It was actually pretty well seasoned and tasted all right. If you were the one doing them, you would have changed the ratio a bit, but they were still perfect because he made them for you. 

- Are you ok to talk about something not exactly pleasant? - he asked, while he started tidying up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher. Your heart got heavy for a moment, the images from earlier today flooding your brain, but you couldn't let them win. Not like that. And you knew that if you said no, Toto would immediately drop the topic, so you felt safe enough to dive into what happened.

- Yes... - you replied after you swallowed another bite. You were actually a little bit curious about what he wanted to say. 

- Two things... - he closed the loaded dishwasher, turned it on, and threw the dishtowel over his shoulder. - I spoke with our media analyst about this whole situation, and we unknowingly poked a hornet's nest... The mystery of a secret relationship being revealed right after your departure from the Network combined with me being in the middle of a successful race season when a good part of my life is constantly being documented created a very... interesting story, so people are interested more than usual - because the relationship is not the only thing that's happening. And when you add our age gap on top of that, people start to have stronger opinions, and that means engagement. - you could feel your shoulders slumping because this was exactly what you thought about on your way back to the hotel, and you were angry at yourself that you haven't thought about all that earlier. - Hey, none of that... - he put his hand under your chin and forced you to look at him. He wasn't saying any of that to show you that what both of you did was a mistake because he wasn't like that. There was a problem, and he wanted to solve it; he just started with a short summary, so you could be on the same page. 

You smiled and moved your head a little bit, so his fingers could rub over your skin. You ripped a small piece of your arepa and fed it to him, which made him smile. 

- Ok, so he proposed two paths... - he continued after swallowing. - One, we do an official interview together and talk about everything we feel comfortable enough sharing, but that means more information out there, which also means that people will want to dig into everything even more, but it would be on our terms. Path number two - we go in the defense and stonewall everything. No interviews, no public outings for a while until people get bored because there will be nothing to feed that hunger for information. But that also means - more theories and rumors for a while. - he explained, leaning on the counter in between your legs, and when he finished you fed him another piece from your hands. - And I know I was the one who didn't want to hide, but seeing the reaction, I feel like not saying anything would be a better option for now. - you considered his words and took another bite, thinking about the consequences of both solutions. You understood where he was coming from, but you had a bit more insight into how this hellish machine worked. 

- I see why you would think that, but we have to consider that the season is just starting, and there is no way for you to avoid media to this extent. And coming back to hiding would mean that I wouldn't be able to be around the track much, because of all the photographers, and I want to be there with you... - he nodded, acknowledging your words, because he hasn't thought about it that way. - It would also mean that the focus would be on us and not on the team for longer. Not from every station, but I can already point at a few that would be completely disrespectful because our story would get more engagement than for example - if Lewis won another race. And they might even try to get a rise from them by asking inappropriate questions about us, just to get a reaction from the drivers on camera and blast it all over. - Toto nodded again and put his hand on your thigh in search of comfort.

- I haven't considered that... - he sighed heavily. There was no good solution to get out of this unscathed. 

- This time - I am considering it... - you smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes. - And since the next race is in the UK, I would be able to set up an interview with one of my independent friends, so we could be in control of what information would be released. - you said, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. - And if I'm being honest, I think we should do that as soon as we'll be back home, so there will be as much time as possible between the interview and the next race for our relationship to become irrelevant to the media. But I think one long, extensive interview, and that's it. - you finished presenting your point of view and there was a short moment of silence.

- You're right, Schatzi. - he said, gently rubbing the skin on your thigh with his thumb. 

- And I think the "no public outings" would be also good, at least for a while, because it would mean no content, we wouldn't have control over. - you added and he nodded. 

- Sounds reasonable. - even with everyone knowing, you would still be confined to hotel rooms and sneaking around. It was supposed to end, so the frustration you both felt was more than justified. 

- I'll make some calls tomorrow to see who would be available for this kind of interview and when I have names, we can make a final decision together. - he nodded and took another piece from your hand straight in his mouth. - What was the second thing you wanted to talk about? - you asked, pushing the empty plate away.

- I hired an independent security company for us for tomorrow, just in case... - you froze for a good moment, but you quickly concluded that it was a good idea after what happened, but you still hated that there was even a need for that. - I know it's not ideal, but...

- It's fine, I understand. - you cut him off and pulled him closer by the band of his sweatpants. - Thank you for taking care of me. Now let me take care of you... - you smiled and pulled him into a deeper kiss. 

The next morning was crazy. It was the first time you were with him before the race because, in the past, you were getting ready with your own crew. Toto was on his phone before the sun was up, doing his best not to wake you up, but you eventually did. It wasn’t something you were used to but had no plans to complain. And it was nice to see that even after a year-long relationship you had still so many things to learn about him.

You had to force him to sit down and eat breakfast, although, through the big part of it, he was on his phone, but to be honest - so were you. 

You've messaged four of your friends who you knew could be trusted with conducting your interview. One declined, and you were now hashing out the details with the other three. You were open about the fact that the final decision will have to wait till tomorrow, but all of them were game. And one pointed out something that happened yesterday, and something you completely missed, because you didn't even touch your phone in the evening.

Somehow your yesterday's interaction with the paparazzi went viral, and your words became a hashtag that was being used under many articles, leaked photos, and other situations where the media was less than fair to their subjects. And currently "NotAJournalismItsAssult" already stood at over 90k users on Instagram. Even some celebrities used it to share their stories. You didn't mean for it to grow so much, it was something you just said in the heat of the moment, but your fanbase took it and ran with it almost to the extreme. You noticed some people trying to dox the bastards taking those types of photos, but even though you hated them with passion and you wanted some revenge, this was not the right way to do this, because it would victimize them, so you commented a few times that you don't condone this type of behavior to make it clear you were not connected with the doxers. 

But before you were able to dive deeper, 8AM came and there was a loud knock on the door. Toto stood up to see who it was, and when he was passing you, he let his hand gently glide from one of your shoulders to the other, which instantly made you smile. 

As it turned out, the security team he ordered yesterday arrived. It was easy to tell what their job was, because all three of them were giants compared to you, and one was even taller than Toto, which was impressive. They introduced themselves and went over a few ground rules with both of you. One of them was responsible for planning your routes in and out, securing any paths you were about to take around the track, and making sure there won't be any trouble in a general area you were in. The other two were your personal guards - one for you, one for Toto, who was currently holding your hand under the table. You were not to engage with larger crowds if possible, and they said that they'd appreciate a heads-up about a minute before changing locations. It wasn't necessary, because they were well trained, but it would make all of your lives easier and safer, so you made a mental note to do just that. They would not interact with anyone unless necessary and would be basically your shadows for the day. They already had signed the NDAs about whatever they were about to see around the pit and in the garage, so you were ready to go. 

You had to take their car to the track, which - honestly - wasn't that bad, because you were able to lean on Toto's chest and listen to his heartbeat for the whole ride there, while he absentmindedly traced abstract patterns on your back with one hand; the other still on his cell, but you honestly didn't mind. 

There weren't many people on track this early, but you still were nervous after what happened yesterday, and your personal body pillow instantly realized what was happening, put his phone in his pocket, and pulled you even closer, giving you his undivided attention. 

- We're ok. - he whispered and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

- We're ok. - you echoed and the confidence in your voice surprised you. You glanced up just to see his smile because you could tell it was there without having to look, but you still loved to see it. - I love you... - you added quieter, and he chuckled lightly, the vibrations in his chest making your skin tingle. 

- Ich liebe dich auch, Schatzi... - he whispered, and the car stopped in front of the gate, so he couldn’t do anything more because he had to show his pass to the security at the gate.

It wasn't long before you were in front of the motorhome and your guards were opening the doors for you both, and as soon as you crossed the threshold of the garage, you realized how well everyone worked together. It was like watching a well-designed, well-oiled machine. Everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to do. They anticipated each other's moves and they were all so in sync... Everyone except you. 

You awkwardly stood next to the wall, sticking out like a sore thumb, at least that's how you felt. Because even though you were dressed almost like everyone here, in a white Mercedes shirt and black pants, you felt... alien. Like you didn't belong. And you didn't want to move too much, because you weren't exactly sure where you could and couldn't go, and what you could and couldn't see. Technically you weren't an employee, you haven't signed any NDAs, and you didn't know what legally you were allowed to witness.

- Y/n...? - you heard a familiar voice, and when you turned you saw Lewis getting closer, which made you smile. He pulled you into a giant hug and leaned on a wall next to you. - What's wrong? - he asked, almost immediately clocking your nervousness.

- Nothing serious. - you tried to brush it off, but he just stared you down and you eventually caved. - Well... I'm not an employee, I'm not part of the team, I basically showed up yesterday and I honestly feel like I... - you hesitated for a moment, but you finally finished. - Like I don't belong here... I mean, look at all of you... - you gestured vaguely in front of you. - You all work so well together, and I don't even know where I'm allowed to sit. - you admitted a little bit embarrassed. 

- Oh, you poor thing... - Lewis wrapped his arm around you, trying to comfort you, and you sighed with relief. - You're right... You're not an employee, or a part of the team, at least not yet.. - his words didn't exactly fill you with comfort. - But you are something much more important... You're his family, and by extension - you're our family. - you were... not expecting that. - And short of messing with the car, you can do literally anything you want here. Get to know people, ask questions, mess with Valtteri.. - you couldn't help but laugh. - And if you're not sure where to sit and you're nervous about it... - he pulled you by the elbow in front of the fantasy island, next to his own car. He looked around for a second until he located a blank piece of paper and a sharpie, scribbled something on, and stuck it to the seat that looked like it was taken from one of the cars. Only when he moved to the right you were able to see what was written on the piece of paper in his messy handwriting. "Y/n's chair". You couldn't help but laugh. 

- Thank you for that, Lewis... - this time you were the one who pulled him into a hug. It wasn't about the seat, but the fact that he made you feel... connected. Like there was a metaphorical place for you, not just the chair.

- No problem... Shorty. - he flashed his teeth at you in a smile, and you laughed again. 

- Shorty...? - and you just knew you won't get rid of that nickname for a while. - Ehhh... Could have been worse. - which was true. You were shorter than almost all of them, and at the beginning of the relationship with Toto, you felt self-conscious about it, because there were over 35cm in between you two, so for the first few months you wore exclusively high heels, which was killing your feet. It took a bad pair of shoes that made your feet bleed on a date and him buying you a pair of Vans on the spot to realize that he didn't care. He immediately took you back home, disinfected the abrasions, put band-aids on those which needed them, and put a cold compress on your feet. He also wouldn't let you walk the next day, which was completely unnecessary and absurd in your opinion, but he didn't budge, and who were you to refuse such a handsome and powerful man? Coincidentally it was also the first time he cooked for you... 

- True, true... Are you good with me leaving you here? - he made sure, and you nodded. You already had plans to find Georgia and - if she wasn't super busy - to pick her mind about what was happening in the garage, and how could you be the least in the way. - Great, because I have some press to do pre-race. Gonna miss you out there, cause you always had the best questions. - he gave you one last quick hug and just like that, he was off; you didn't even manage to wish him good luck. 

It took you a minute of silently hyping yourself up, but you eventually started talking with people you met yesterday, one on one. Not everyone was super busy, but those who were, simply said so and apologized, and that made you realize that if you were in a way, they'd simply tell you, so you didn't have to worry so much that you were disturbing their work.

Around 1 PM, when you were sitting with Emma, who was explaining the manufacturing error of the rear wing that was discovered yesterday and how they managed to react so quickly, Toto came to you and pulled you in a bear hug from behind, apologizing to the aerodynamic performance engineer, because he was planning to steal you away from her. You could feel the tension radiating from his body, but as soon as you turned around and pressed yours against his, he started to relax. It wasn't stress, because you knew how stress looked on him, but it still must have been exhausting. 

- Lunch...? - you proposed, with your face still smashed against his chest because he needed to have you close and didn't want to let go. He groaned in response, which was supposed to mean that he has more things to do. - Toto, you need food... - you rarely used his name when you addressed him directly, so when he heard it - he knew it was serious and he needed to pay attention.

- Fine... Just... Stay close, ok? - he didn't have to ask, but it made you realize something - he wanted you to be near him because having you in sight just wasn't enough today. 

- Ok... - you smiled against his shirt when he was letting your security guards know you will be leaving the garage in a bit to get to the motorhome, and you squeezed him a bit harder, before letting him go. But even though he wasn't holding you so tightly, his hands were still on you seeking the comfort and peace your presence gave him, so you leaned on him the whole way to the cafeteria. You didn't eat there though. He took you to his small office, so you could be alone for a few moments and just talk… Although you were the one doing most of the talking; telling him what you learned, whom you got to know better, and what you noticed on your own around the garage... He smiled the whole time listening to your voice. 

- Do you want to just... cuddle on the couch for a moment, before you go back? - you asked, and he didn't have to say anything, because the relief on his face told you everything. It was new for you to see him so touch-starved, because usually when you were near, he just did what he wanted, constantly hugging you, pulling you in his lap, holding your hand, laying on your thighs... Today was different because it was the first time ever when you were near while he had other important things to do, and couldn't hold you like his own, personal teddy bear. 

You kicked your shoes off before reclining on the couch, and Toto immediately followed, wrapping his arms around your torso, and putting his head on your chest, almost crushing you with his weight, but you loved it; he basically acted like a weighted blanket, while he melted into you. You started humming a familiar tune and playing with his hair, which made him smile and he looked so peaceful like that... If you didn't know better you would have said that he fell asleep, but you were familiar enough with his breathing that you knew he didn't; he just really needed this moment of relaxation with you. 

After about ten minutes you noticed Lewis peeking through the glass panel on the door, and with a gesture he let you know that Toto is needed. You nodded and that was enough for him to trust you to get him back to the garage. 

- Mon Chéri... - you said quietly, and he let out a sigh in response. - You have to go; people are looking for you.

- Eine minute... - you almost didn't recognize him like that, but you could definitely get used to it...

- Is today that draining...? - you asked, not stopping playing with his hair just yet. 

- No, everything is going smoothly... - he mumbled into your shirt. 

- Then why this reaction? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, it's just new. - you smiled and wrapped a lock of his hair around your finger. 

- I don't know, I have to think about it... - he replied, still not moving anywhere and you gave him a moment. - I think it might be because I know I can finally have you with me everywhere I am. I selfishly expected you to shadow me today, but you were making friends, which is very good, but my brain hasn't caught up with that and was expecting to have you right beside me, so it reacted like a drug addict during withdrawal. And I think I might have the need to overcompensate for all the times you weren't there with me. - he finally said and looked up at you. 

- I wasn't near you, because I didn't want to disturb or distract you on such an important day. - you explained, gently brushing away a few strands of hair from his forehead. - I can definitely try to be closer for the rest of the day. 

- I would love that. - he replied, and you could tell he was ready to go back, but before he got up he placed a quick kiss on your chin. He helped you sit up, and reached for your shoes, but instead of just passing them to you, he unlaced them, put them on your feet, and tied them again. It was about small things...

He helped you get up and you went back to the garage, your security guards shadowing you without saying a word.

You did your best to try to keep close to him, and when you went away to talk for a few minutes with someone else, you made sure to give him a tight squeeze, or a quick kiss, if he wasn't in the middle of the conversation. But most of the time, you were around the fantasy island, getting to know Bono and Ric better, which meant you were in hand reach of Toto because they always sat right next to him. 

But then the race was about to start.

You didn't want to interrupt anyone in the garage in anything when so much was at stake, so you would have been perfectly happy with watching the race from the sidelines, but Toto just... plopped a headset on your head right before the race, when you wanted to get ready to get out of the way and put you in front of him. He wrapped his left arm in front of your body, hooking his thumb in your pocket, and pulling you closer, so you could lean on his left thigh. His right hand was free, so he could still control the monitors and switch between the channels to communicate with the rest of the team. And even though the stakes were high and the atmosphere was tense - when he could, he was pulling your right headphone back a bit, so you could hear him through his mask, and explaining what was currently happening and what were his concerns, especially with Valtteri's rough start.

It was the first time you had the opportunity to watch Toto so close during a race, and your admiration only grew. For you everything was so hectic, so fast-paced, that you had trouble following what was happening, but he seemed to see all the patterns in his mind and predict the moves of this well-oiled machine, managing to keep calm and collected in the middle of this storm. In the beginning, you mostly focused on the map in the bottom corner of the monitor, where all the current positions of the drivers were marked, because that was the only thing you could understand without him having to explain more. But by the end of the race you started to pick up on the temperature graphs and what they meant, and even though you didn't understand the whole window with aerodynamics, you have begun to understand how the drag changed based on speed and location of nearby cars. And maybe with time you'd learn more and ask more questions, but definitely not during a race, because even with Toto's calming presence, you were far too stressed that because of you he might miss something.

When Lewis crossed the finish line, everything in the shop erupted with such intensity, that you almost got scared, but the adrenaline of your team winning caught up quickly and in no time, you were jumping and screaming with everyone else, and Toto wrapped his arms around you, lifted you in the air, and twirled holding you for a good half minute. Only when Bono and Ric started tapping his shoulders to congratulate him, did he put you down, and placed the softest of kisses on your lips, such a contrast to the hurricane around you.

- Go celebrate... - you whispered against his lips, with a huge smile on yours, and gently pushed him in direction of the rest of the team; you didn't want to hog him all for yourself, and you knew that all those emotions had to get away somehow. And it was so good seeing him this excited and elated, because you usually got to see only snippets of him celebrating on TV, and now, here... You could finally take it all in person. And it was amazing.

When the drivers came down to the pit, you stayed a bit behind, because you didn't want to impose on something you were technically introduced to yesterday, but as soon as Lewis realized you weren't there, he shouted your name and beaconed you in, and how could you say no? You gave both him and Valtteri a giant hug and congratulated them both on the podium finish and then you felt Toto's strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

- Get used to it, Schatzi... You will be celebrating with us every time from now on. - he said and placed a soft kiss on your temple, much calmer now, but still extremely happy. - You're family, and everyone already feels it, look closely. - he added, and you did... All those waves and smiles were also for you. Not just for Toto, or whoever stood behind you at the moment. You were there, a part of it, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You couldn't help but smile, when someone from the pit crew shot a confetti cannon, covering everyone in the area in black, silver, and teal.

It didn't take long for the press to get to the pit to do the interviews, and for the first time since you met Toto, you weren't part of that, so you took a few steps back and looked for any familiar face until you saw the blond head of hair, so you walked to Georgia, gave her a congratulatory hug, and you both started listening to what everyone had to say to the media. Maybe it was the fact that you were a similar age, or maybe something entirely else, but you already knew you were going to be great friends. She was able to follow your - at times hectic - train of thoughts, immediately got your veiled jokes and references, and it went both ways, so for the most part, you were just standing there giggling at something one or the other said.

It was Toto's last interview before the ceremony, and you could see him getting more and more frustrated with every question he was asked, even though he was masking it pretty well with laughter. You knew that there would be some questions about you two, but previous reporters just congratulated him on such a loving relationship and moved on, but this one... When you heard the last question asked by a woman whom you sat next to just a few days ago in the briefing area, you could feel your blood boiling, and you could have sworn that your vision went red for a moment.

- No, stop. Don't answer that, because that's private. - you walked unceremoniously into the frame and took a stand in front of your partner as if you wanted to protect him from the viciousness you were more than familiar with. - And you... - you looked at the reporter who was trying to grill your partner about your relationship instead of the race, disgust co clearly visible on your face. - You should be ashamed of yourself. How dare you ask about our private lives when both Lewis and Valtteri are on the podium today? How dare you ask about that when Lewis had the fastest lap today, and Valtteri second fastest? When Lewis just tied for the record of most wins at a single circuit? How dare you call yourself a reporter, when you don't even report on the event you're at, instead focusing on something that's none of your goddamn business? - you were speaking so quickly, that you were honestly impressed that you haven't stuttered even once yet, but anger had that effect on you, although now you were far past anger, and reached the levels of rage. - Next time I will be asked why I departed from big media, you can be sure that I will direct them to this exact moment, to show them how low some of the reporters are willing to go. The lack of respect for both sport and professionals who spend decades honing their skills and pouring them into being the best... You don't deserve to be here. This interview is over. - you said and the cameraman almost immediately lowered the camera, clearly a little bit afraid of you, because you just made sure that the reporter you were in the trenches with just two days ago, will never get a serious job in media again.

And it looked like it just dawned on her how serious the consequences of today will be, but instead of apologizing, she dropped the microphone and lounged at you, claws first. While you were getting ready to defend yourself, someone reacted quicker than you. You didn't even see your new security guards coming closer, but they were suddenly there, holding the reporter by the elbows, while someone else was calling track security to the lovely soundtrack of you being called a bitch, a whore, a cunt, and every other obscenity under the sun, but you couldn't care less. You turned around and took Toto's hand into your own.

- I'm sorry... I should have waited with the announcement till after the race... - you should have thought about the consequences more, because you knew how shitty some reporters could be, and you could have protected the team from that for a few days longer, and now you felt like you took away part of what they achieved here today.

- Are you kidding me, Schatzi...? That was fucking impressive! - he pulled you into a hug because he noticed that you were still shaking from anger and frustration. - It was just one interview, the rest was boring, and you have nothing to apologize for. - he whispered, so only you could hear it, and kissed the top of your head. You closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself as quickly as possible, because the day wasn't over just yet. - I need you to look at me, love... - you finally took back control over your own breath and looked up. His smile instantly blew all the worries away. - You were amazing. You defended the whole team, not just the drivers, you were passionate, yet professional, and you didn't even swear... You were perfect. Don't you dare to apologize for that. Do you hear me...? - you managed to force a small smile on your lips and nod, and Toto took your face in his hands and placed a soft kiss on your lips, while the security was handling the situation with the other reporter. But you didn't see that, completely focused on your partner. - They will be awarding trophies soon, we should go and celebrate with the rest of the team. - he gently put the rogue strand of your hair behind your ear, and you could only smile in response. When you started walking in the direction of the podium, he put his arm around you, rested his hand on your hip, and the last 15 minutes completely disappeared from your mind, leaving only pride from the team's success.  

Part 6

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

[brooooswriting]

hello again :)

How about Tara Carpenter x fR.

Basically Tara has a panic attack when she sees someone in a ghostface costume( PTSD whoo?)

And yes R comforts her

(Also if the amount of requests for each person is restricted pls lemme know so I stop sending)

Have a great day : )

Hey, it’s completely fine, I don’t really have a lot of requests anyways :)

Ptsd, anxiety

Tw: Panic attack

Tara carpenter x reader

It’s been a pretty long three weeks for you, you’ve been working your ass off to save money, you had a lot of school work too, your parents were up your ass for basically every goddamn thing and you were mentally and physically drained. Which was sad as it was the week before Halloween which you loved.

Tara noticed the way your shoulders slacked, how you were constantly tired and the darkness of your eye rings increased. It pained her to see you like this which was why she decided to take you on a date. Nothing crazy, just a bit of walking around, getting dinner before going home to cuddle on the couch while watching a terrible movie.

At least that was the plan.

Tara picked you up at 6 pm with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and your favorite sweets. After putting those away you took her hand to start your walk, deciding to walk from your house towards the city where you’d have lunch. You had missed the girl next to you terribly the last couple of weeks so this was everything you wanted.

What you didn’t think about was the yearly Stab Marathon that was on today. You didn’t remember until you arrived in the city where you saw two people in ghost cave costumes, knives in hand and blood all over them.

You were so in your head as you were mad at yourself for forgetting that it took you a moment to realize that Tara saw them too. Her grip was tightening on your hand as hers got clammy and shaky. Pulling her away from the guys she was still starring at seemed to be the best option.

You pulled her around a corner into an alley which was empty. “You’re okay” you mumbled out as you pulled her into you, wrapping your arms tightly around her to give her a sense of grounding. She was breathing heavily, her body was shaking and her heart racing. “Tara, you have to regulate your breathing or you’ll get a panic attack” you mumbled out to her as you stroked her back.

The moment you thought it was getting better, a boy walked past the alley. “Do you like scary movies?” His voice was masked by some app as he held his phone up to his face.

Tara pushed you back and coward against the wall on the opposite side of you, her eyes were uncoordinated and unfocused, making it clear that she wasn’t in the reality.

“Tara, it’s just me” you whispered as you sat in front of her, leaving enough space so she didn’t have to press herself further against the wall. “It’s me y/n, no ghostface Is here love. It’s just you and me and this stupid stab marathon” you told her hoping it would calm her a bit. You slowly extended your hand to her, which she carefully touched. “It’s okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were attacked but now I’m here, and I won’t let history repeat itself”

It was true, you didn’t really know her when she was attacked. You were new in town and the weekend where it happened was the first time you visited your old home. Looking back, you still hate yourself for not visiting her back then even tough she told you not to feel guilty. But who wouldn’t feel guilty in moments like these?

“Hug please” was all the brunette in front of you whispered when she slowly came back into reality. You slowly moved next to her before gently extending your arms to pull her closer to you. “You’re alright. I’m so proud of you” you kept on whispering reassuring things into her ear and kissing her head until she calmed down.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home” you pulled her up before wrapping an arm around her to shield her from what was happening around the two of you. The whole time you had her keep her eyes on you and listen to your voice as you kept talking about how proud you were and how she was okay. It didn’t take long for you to get home where she could finally relax.

You sat on the couch with some random ramen you found in the kitchen and a terrible movie. Your hand was on her thigh comfortingly stroking up and down. “I’m sorry” was the first thing she said in around an hour and half. You looked at her confused as your hand stopped stroking her thigh. “I wanted to do something relaxing for you today. You were so tired the last weeks but I ruined it because I can get over my stupid trauma” now that she explained you weren’t confused anymore, you were shocked.

“Tara, my love, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. You’ve come so far with your trauma, you should be proud of yourself. And you didn’t even ruin anything, I don’t care if we get dinner or eat some stupid ramen on the couch as long as I’m with you. When I’m with you I feel like I’m home, I can relax and be myself! That’s what I need after hard weeks, and that’s exactly what you gave me today. So do not say sorry for having trauma!” You explained laying you hand on her cheek, softly stroking it with your thumb. She nestled her face into your hand as you talked. “But I ruined the date nonetheless! You shouldn’t have to deal with all that when your weeks have been exhausting enough! I wanted to take care of you, not the other way around. It should’ve been romantic” she was angry with herself, she had it planned to the end and it was supposed to be romantic and cute, not psycho.

“Romantic? Fine” you got off the couch as you walked towards a cabinet pulling out a couple of candles and a lighter as you lit them all around the room before putting on some slow music. You went to kneel before her with you hands on her cheeks. “Like this? Is this what you wanted? But look, it didn’t change anything, everything is romantic as long as I’m with you. I get that you’re mad at yourself for not being able to always control your trauma but you’re working thru that trauma and that’s what important. And I think it’s rather romantic that I could help you thru that attack” Tara slightly laughed out through the tears that were streaming down her face. You carefully wiped them away with your thumbs as you stared at her lovingly.

“I love you y/n” you couldn’t help but smile as you leaned towards to press your lips to hers in a comforting and soft kiss which she reciprocated. “I love you too”

[kayakoto-enterprises]

The Poisonousness [1/2]

Cats are afraid of cucumbers. Read this like an issue. Sorry if the tone is off or out of character. Part 1 of 2!

tw for self harm or drug use mention. not explicit.

Tldr; when you wake up in a house next to a murderer, what would you do.

The feline eyesight is typically nearsighted. It helps that their sense of smell and sight work exceptionally well in the wild. A cat jumps in fear when it sees a cucumber, or any elongated colorful item really. "A snake" it yelps as it runs to avoid being bitten. As much as it is possible that a cat can come out alive of a quarrel like that animals prefer to avoid conflict. So they stay far, far, far away.

Julianne woke up before me this morning. She shook me awake when she realized we overslept. It was 9 in the morning yet I was not in a particular rush to go open the store. I woke up expecting that the dread would wash away soon. There was nothing signaling that the world would end again today. I should have taken care of her when I had it. Silenced it before it could cry for help in the streets. But this morning she was there in my kitchen eating cold spaghetti. On my spot was the cranberry pie I promised I would get to last night. She didn't have a sense of urgency in her face like she was fighting to keep herself together. It was like a morning before Thursday. "How fake" I thought.

Still I reached for a fork and sat across her. Her eyes laser focused on a sketchpad mapping out thumbnails. I began eating not saying a word. What else is she thinking? What else are you planning? What was she drawing? Was she discribing on paper what she saw?

She looks up to me from her lashes.

"Hi honey, not going to work?" Julianne smiled, yawning in between before her teeth instinctually chattered. The ice melted. I snort.

"Is there a bird outside?"

"No." She also laughed "Tic. It just happens. You going today?"

My mind weighed on whether I should come to work. I contemplated looking after her, observe every move, corner her with a question, or run to the forest. If I did go to the shop, would she make a run for it? Tell the police, tell her neighbors, tell the first person she saw? I imagined that morning the area around the block was taped off. Murmurs that were heard from the end of town. His. Fucking. Smile.

I had a moment to calm down. My eyes focused back to Julianne who was anticipating an answer. Her eyes furrowed with concern. We're still acting, aren't we?

"Are you okay, Sam?" She placed down her pencil to pick up her cup.

"I-- I will. Nobody is in a rush around here, anyway. Besides, I've gone to the shop at 12 pm when Charlie was around." I lied, quickly putting on a straight face. It was believable enough for her to shrug. She passed to me the tissue holder when she noticed a cranberry smear on my lower lip.

"Exactly why I chose to move here. It can be 1 pm right now and I wouldn't be so worried about wasting my time."

Her waning manners were easily detectable. She did not remain eye contact, her voice grew softer, and she ate quickly as if to be in a hurry. She stood up and quickly swept my clean plate to wash.

"Hey, there's still coffee if you like."

"No." I replied, void of emotion. "You can keep it."

It ate away in my brain. I kissed Julianne goodbye before heading out if the house. I turned on the engine and drove to the next street. Crawling back to the rear of the house I held my breath watching her clean the coffee maker. The mask came off. She was frowning, somber and deep in thought. Scraping the coffee grounds with her ears pulled back. Her tail slowly swaying. There was a timer above her head. She mentally counted the hours, minutes, the seconds before I came home. There's a murderer in this house. There's a snake next to me.

"It should come in a week. I'll call the sister store at Copper Shore to have it delivered next week." I jot down a reminder on my journal "Need anything else, Liv?"

The kangaroo looked back to the giraffe behind her. They both shook their heads before she proceeded to pay.

"How have you been feeling? It's unusual for you to open so late." Liv asked. She set what seems like dozens of bangles on the cashier top then continued writing her details down.

"Overslept. Had too much fun in bed." I joked "You two must've experienced the same most days, yeah?"

The kangaroo hid behind Kaku who was laughing along with me. He opened his backpack to look for something.

"How are you and Julianne lately?" He started after I put down the telephone.

"Great. Honestly she's the sleepyhead between the both of us."

"Can't believe it's gonna be a year until you two started dating!" Liv chimed in "Usually around this time a couple start bickering or they start growing resentment.."

"So far, nothing thankfully." I gritted. Kaku interrupted the awkward air as he handed out a white and blue envelope.

"Didn't you and Lola last 40 years? All it takes is communication and a lot of patience." "Honestly, all my other girlfriends were short term. I do have a better feeling about her." From the window of the door I spotted from across the street Julianne strolling by. She had a canvas bag and wearing white like a saint. I gulped.

"We're sorry for soliciting advice for your relationship. It's much more different than ours" Liv waved "by the way, RSVP for two!"

They exited the store as my eyes followed the cat as she walked out of sight. I locked the door and sprinted to the next corner.

Why do people creep themselves close to danger? They step into landmines, risking their time, their fortunes, their lives. Is it fun? Is it pleasurable? Do you really have nothing to lose? Disabling your senses. Ignoring the warning signs. Letting it consume them. Lesser vices, bad habits, horrid relationships- let the poisonousness inside. It strangles and sickens you 'til it kills you. Some sick indivuduals love the poisonousness. I have a sick girlfriend.

I found her at a craft store swatching inks. She kneeled looking at the color names, whispering them to herself. She settled on the rose ink, like usual. It was a rare color to find in a shop so niche but ever since she came around they've stocked at least 5 boxes a month. I took a closer look through the door. Julianne did not look at all tired or worried. She was...fine. Nothing indicated that she was going to go to the police. Nothing indicated she was gossiping about it to the shopkeeper. It was just a regular afternoon.

I finished a half day of business today. I breathed in as I came into the truck, hands shaky as the image of a year ago played in my mind. The town lit up tonight. At least there were families going out again. Couples huddling together into the theatre. Friends laughing to bars. I'm thankful that at least my home's heart is still beating, breathing and still sleeping.

The house lights were open. The living room was dim and there was nobody in the kitchen. Julianne's shoes were tucked on the side of the doormat, her spare keys laid on the ceramic plate. I called out for her but there was no reply. Shower. She must've come home just minutes ago. I switched the kitchen lights open and next to me was her sketchbook. The rubber bound the buldging contents. She opened up her new bottle of ink, swatching it on the receipt on top of it. I slowly took the rubber off and flipped through the pages, stickers and sticky notes flying to the chairs. I fought the temptation to savor each page, intent on a target but I still could not help but be enamoured by her talent. I arrived at a page full of rose ink, with shaky handwritten notes and water spillage. It looked recent. I bent down to read it clearly.

"OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK" "SAM IS A KILLER!" "GOD I HOPE I'M DREAMING" "WHY DIDN'T SHE TELL ME? SHOULD I TELL HER? HOW WILL SHE REACT?" "AM I DREAMING? DRUNK? HIGH?" "SHOULD I CALL SOMEONE?"

"Is she a serial killer? Is she coming for me next?" "..Why didn't she just kill me?"

Next to these thoughts were little rectangles with what appeared to be incomplete triangles and a stick figure in the middle of it. Blank pages later there was an illustration of the crucifix she saw in pink and black. I could feel my breath picking up reading the note at the side: "Piece of Cake". A small hand rested on my side.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Came out like an exclaimation more than a question. Her tail puffed up and eyes shot wide open. I took a step forward to hold her hand but she jumped back. "Just looking at your art. You left it open." "You opened it." She sighed "Do you want to talk about it?" "What is It?" I was swimming back to the act. Julianne slumped back on the couch, crossing her arms and looking away. "Then let's talk about It."

I scooted next to her, tilting my head to meet her eyes. She frowned.

"Sam, I didn't mean to walk in on you..killing someone." "You have no business knowing if I kill something." I insisted, placing my foot down as early as now "I do what I like whether you like it or not." "Someone! That was someone, Sam." Julianne hissed "God but that's not it, I didn't go looking for you knowing you kill, I just innocently..saw you on the other side of that stream. I..I just wanted to ask you if we can eat together. Eat lunch together.."

I wanted to retort back why would she eat in a forest but I kept my mouth shut. She covered her face in disappointment.

"Why do you do it?"

"It centers me. Like a stress reliever. In the same vein as perhaps drugs or self harm. But this just works for me. It's natural."

She just nods. She frowns looking at her own scars and looks back to me. She's thinking I should get a therapist. What does she know about me?

"...Well. You know what I do now. What are you feeling?" She leaned back on my arm. We both looked into our blurry reflections on the television. We waited minutes until an answer came. "Sad. Mad. Confused. And..sort of relieved." That last answer shocked me. I looked back to her to make sure I was not next to another rodent. "Holy shit, why are you RELIEVED?" I raised my voice. "I wanna talk about something else. A secret." "What is it, Honey? You fucking kill people too? You wanna impress me with your body count?" "NO! No, I mean, partially but I don't kill people. I just wanted to share that I KILLED SOMEONE!" I instinctively covered her mouth, sitting her back down on the couch and shushing whatever she was yapping out next.

"Come on, now. Calm down. Let's talk like adults about this. I don't want you to get caught too, fine?" She placed her hand over mine as she attempted to calm herself down, looking at me before her voice drew into a whisper.

"Fine..yes, I've killed someone before. In my defense it's because I was friends with a..toxic friend. She belittled me, talked over me, just exploded her anger on me. I..I will admit that I hurt her too but she was just so unpleasant it drove me mad. I was so tired of being so small and worse than her that in a heated fight we..we..." Her eyes welled with tears thinking about the moment she secured it. The gentle paws I brushed knew the thickness of an artery. Those claws could be deadly if not handled right.

"Well..you understand, right? You kill, I've...killed. I won't kill again but you do get why I did, right?" The same bitter medicine. The same excuse. My eyes narrowed, pushing her into the couch.

"Don't patronize me. Don't fucking use me as an excuse. You tell me what animal you killed right NOW." I couldn't help it. Her eyes widened even more, ears pulled back and whiskers shaky.

"Sam. Sam she..she was a jackal. She's a jackal. A bigger animal. Sam, she could have killed me." "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

I slumped from the couch, laying down on the floor after yelling my throat out. I have never felt so afraid but so furious. I shut my eyes recollecting myself. Meanwhile Julianne stood from the couch, her feet shaking as she ran back upstairs. I curled up into a fetal position as the air got colder and the silence deafened. I felt a shake on my shoulder. I tossed back to look up. Her eyes were swollen, fur patched up illuminated by the faint warm light.

"I..I think I'll sleep at my apartment tonight. Thanks for having me here."

She gently shut the door after whispering goodbye. The only person who loved you in this whole world. How could you do that to her?

Oh well.

[shion-yu]

Day 7 - Flatline

It gets more than Elliot can handle at home (part 2). Part one: Fever. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Cliff - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741453.cliff

TW/CWs: Major chronic illness, hemoptysis

It was busy at the hospital on a Friday night. Since nothing obviously critical seemed to be happening with Cliff at first glance they had to wait for a long time to be triaged. Elliot tried to keep his cool, even though he was so on edge that he wanted to scream at every nurse that walked by. Even after an hour, nobody had seen Cliff to even do a set of vitals. It was noisy and bright, a bustling hell that Cliff would have had trouble handling even on a good day let alone when he felt so poorly.

"I wanna go home," Cliff muttered, burying his hot face in Elliot's shoulder. "We can... come back tomorrow... I’m okay.”

"Not with this fever," Elliot said firmly. "You need IV steroids, I’m sure of it."

"Fine..." Cliff fell quiet. Only for a moment though, because then he started coughing hard into the face mask he had on. He grabbed Elliot's knee; the room was spinning really fast. "Eli-" Cliff didn't have time to stop himself. He gagged and felt his mouth fill with what he thought was vomit. Except when he pulled down his mask and tried to spit only onto his shirt, instead it was horrible, bright red blood. Cliff stared at the sight, dazed, vision blurring. He'd vomited blood once before when his stomach ulcer had ruptured. But this felt different. It didn’t feel like it came from his stomach, but his lungs; this time, he felt like he was drowning in it. 

Elliot shouted in alarm, shooting up from his seat and grabbing Cliff by his upper arms. "Cliff! Oh my god, fuck!" The receptionist of the ER looked over and her eyes immediately went wide at the sight as she called a rapid response.

"It's OK," Cliff said faintly, but it was thoroughly unconvincing in every way from the guy whose lips were literally painted with blood. Several nurses came running and started working Cliff up right there in the waiting room. They got him onto a stretcher and ran him to the back where everything happened really fast. He got an IV even though he tried to tell them he had a port - there just wasn't time - and in minutes he was hooked up to everything imaginable. Vitals, oxygen, telemetry. They did an EKG and drew blood, including cultures. It was noisy and although he tried to reassure Cliff that he was right there, Elliot was shuffled to the side in all the commotion. There were lots of questions and Cliff tried to explain his sarcoidosis, but the average ER nurse wasn’t familiar. 

Finally though, after twenty minutes of chaos, it became a short waiting game to go to a STAT chest CT. Cliff and Elliot were left alone in their curtained off corner. Cliff was incredibly overwhelmed and scared, and also felt guilty when he saw Elliot's worried expression. "Sorry," he breathed weakly, searching for Elliot's hand. His grip was weak. Elliot tightened his own for both of them. The oxygen mask Cliff had on muffled his voice. "What's happening?" He asked, eyes filling with tears.

"I don't know baby, but we're in the right place," Elliot said, trying to keep his voice calm despite how scared he was. He couldn’t freak out now, not when Cliff was the one who was on the gurney. "They're gonna figure it out,” he reassured his fiance. “You’ll be fine.”

"Don't leave me," Cliff said shakily. He was scared, too. His fever and confusion made it impossible for him to put up a strong front for Elliot’s sake like he usually would. The sight of him made Elliot want to cry. He looked so sick.

"I'm not going anywhere,” Elliot promised him firmly.

"Good..." Cliff let his eyes close and he seemed to fall asleep for a bit until a porter came to take him to CT. Cliff tried to hold on to Elliot's hand as long as possible, but Elliot wasn't allowed to come into the actual CT room with him. "I don't wanna go," Cliff whispered to Elliot. Elliot had never seen him look so fearful. He wanted badly to send the porter away, but it wasn't an option. Elliot knew Cliff needed this test. They had to get to the bottom of this.

“It’ll be fast,” the porter tried to reassure Cliff kindly. Cliff refused to let go of Elliot’s hand.

"I'll be here waiting. Don't you worry,” Elliot said. His voice was shaking, but he tried to sound confident. Finally, Cliff nodded and let go. He disappeared between a thick set of double doors and was gone.

Elliot waited back in the curtained-off ER bay, his leg shaking up and down nervously. He wondered if he should contact Moira, but he didn't want to worry her when there was nothing she could do about it from all the way in California. On the other hand, there was no one else who really knew about Cliff's illness in such an intimate way. Plus, she was Cliff’s only family that was worth notifying. He decided to text her - that way if she was asleep, he wouldn't wake her up.

'Cliff's got a bad fever. We're in the ER.' He'd only just sent the text when there was a loud announcement over the hospital-wide speaker system. 

"Code blue to CT room 2, code blue to CT room 2."

Elliot dropped his phone in shock. CT. That was where Cliff was. Maybe it wasn't him, he hoped - but Elliot didn't need any confirmation to know that it just had to be. Everything went blank after that. Cliff couldn't be dead. They were going to get married after all. He sat there in a daze for a long time until a nurse came and told him Cliff was in the ICU. He was intubated, but alive. They led him up to the room in a daze. "We called his parents, but they said they don't live nearby. Do you know if they'll be coming soon?" 

"They won't," Elliot said blankly. 

"Oh... We'll have to talk to the social worker, then. We need his next of kin to sign some consent forms for him..."

Elliot's hands balled into a fist. They'd talked about doing power of attorney paperwork before but had never gotten to it. Plus, Elliot had figured it wouldn't be needed anytime soon, at least not before they got married. Now he regretted waiting, just like he regretted letting Cliff talk him into waiting for him to be "healthy enough so that it doesn't look like I'm dying" in their wedding pictures. Elliot had laughed then and agreed. It didn't seem funny at all now. 

Part 3: Coma

[office-worker-91]

Infinity Train Fear and Hunger AU Snippet 4

(Tw: Mentions of lost limbs and injuries)

The three of them together fell into a rhythm before they could even realize what was happening. Of course, the dungeons constantly kept them on their toes. There wasn't a moment when they weren't hiding or running from some new monstrosity they hadn't seen before, or finding themselves in a deeper or more disturbing part of the place.

Even so, Lake was happy. At least, comparable to how their life had been going so far. They took up the name MT (short for Mirror Tulip, but Jesse didn't have to know that), and while they certainly weren't comfortable with it, it was a name, an identity, and one they had control over. And they never realized just how much they were lacking companionship until Jesse and Alan Dracula came around.

Lake's initial assertion on Jesse was partially correct. He was a bit of an airhead who was definitely way out of his depth. As the trio staggered into the mines, injured but on their feet, Lake had to comfort Jesse (poorly, in their opinion), who wasn't able to dress his own wounds and wasn't used to combat. Still, he was a great companion in the sense that he had an excellent attitude, better than Lake's, despite not being born in the dungeons. If Lake hadn't seen him doing his best to shake off the attack of a weird winged cave lady, they'd think it was out of naivety. But Jesse was just a really strong person.

He also checked up on them a lot, which wasn't something they were used to. If they had just narrowly outrun something, he'd check to make sure they were "okay." They hadn't even thought about being "okay" and "not okay" until he asked for the first time. When they stopped for a rest, Jesse would quietly hum a small, directionless tune that exuded a positivity they hadn't thought possible in the dungeon. He cracked jokes, and even though nobody had ever told them a joke before him, they were sure that the jokes were cheesy and painfully unfunny. When he laughed it came out steady and warm. When Lake narrowly avoided a hole in the floor, he hugged them. Lake hadn't been hugged before, either. He told them about his life outside, about his parents and his little brother and his weird obsession with swimming, which, due to Tulip's inactive lifestyle, was something Lake didn't even know people could do. By the end of the first week, they were convinced that he had to be taken back home. Jesse said once "we" escape he can introduce them to his favorite lake. They thought about the outside, and Tulip's few memories of the sun. The word "we" echoed throughout their head for a long time.

And of course, there was Alan Dracula. Lake still thought the name was dumb, but both they and he said it with so much affection that it automatically grew on them. The deer was certainly odd, but then again, what wasn't weird in the dungeons? They came to interpret his empty, unknowable gazes as being kind yet spaced-out. And though Alan Dracula seemed like a regular deer, he still followed them around, and had a knack for getting the two out of intense situations. He rammed Lake full-force with his horns, which hurt quite a bit but ended up saving them from falling into the lower floors of the dungeon. He ran from danger and seemingly abandoned Jesse to being captured by a masked cult, but this led to its members chasing after him, leaving the place much more empty and giving Lake the chance to strike. When the two escaped, Alan Dracula mysteriously found and rejoined them, as if nothing had happened.

The dungeons were terrible, but they had ALWAYS been terrible, ever since Lake's "birth." And the last two weeks had been the best time of their short life.

Things changed when they found a large door.

This wouldn't have been too strange. So far, the dungeon had prisons, flesh tunnels, caves, mines, a giant hollowed out tree, and probably a million other weird places that they had been lucky enough to avoid.

But this place was different. The three were forced inside when one of those inhuman guards noticed their presence.

It was pristine. The room they were in almost resembled a temple, perfectly preserved. Odd, but considering they were immediately accosted by strange multi-armed monsters wielding blow darts, no one had time to think about it. The trio ran deeper and deeper into the temple, Lake assuming things would get darker and darker.

They were then overwhelmed by light.

A whole city. Buildings towering to the... "sky?" That held a... was that what the sun looked like? There were no people below, in the streets. An overwhelming feeling clanged violently against Lake's skull.

They shouldn't be here. This place wasn't for them.

Jesse stared down in awe, his mouth hanging open slightly. Lake got the impression he was getting the same feeling. And yet...

Jesse wordlessly turned and started walking toward the city.

Lake scrambled after him, trying to tell him that he was crazy and they needed to go back. Any weird monster they'd ran from before was a whole lot better than whatever could lie down there. Jesse argued weakly that because this place LOOKED like it was outside, it might hold the answer to escaping the dungeons. Lake groaned, trying and failing to express the overwhelming feeling of NOPE coming from this place, but Jesse was weirdly insistent that they continue. This wasn't like him.

Still, Jesse knew more about the surface than Lake. Maybe that feeling was just something they felt as a mons- as someone who was born in the dungeons. So, reluctantly, they followed him, Alan Dracula close behind.

The next day is a blur. In the beginning, floating images of the new gods themselves appeared before the two. Jesse pressed on. Lake followed. They encountered even stranger creatures than they had in the other parts of the dungeons. Usually running from the monsters. One time they fought a big hulking one and almost died multiple times, both only saved by Alan Dracula. Jesse pressed on. Lake followed.

Jesse was no longer whistling when they were alone. He was checking if Lake was okay, but half-heartedly. He scratched behind Alan Dracula's ears absent-mindedly as he rummaged through bookshelf after chest after bookshelf, with an almost frantic energy.

Before Lake could confront him, he loudly celebrated as he pulls a scroll out of a chest. His eyes looked manic as he read aloud the scroll, dedicated to the goddess Sylvian. When he finished, his eyes sparkled and he ran up to Lake, holding up one of their arms, still injured from the previous fight, that hadn't been healed to ration medical supplies. He leaned close and whispered into their ear, encouraging, almost loving. Lake felt something warm flow through them, which was normal with Jesse, but this was different. They felt their injuries mend and disappear, almost at will.

However, the scratches and slashes on their metal skin still prevailed. They felt no pain and were no longer injured, but there were still dents and indents in their arm.

All at once, Jesse collapsed to the ground, looking exhausted.

Lake had enough of this. As gently as they possibly could, seeing Jesse look so devastated, they asked what was wrong. Jesse broke fast.

He hadn't gotten lost and stumbled into the dungeon. He'd come here willingly. He needed healing magic for his little brother, the one he'd told Lake so much about while resting in little peaceful moments they could afford. It was his fault, and while Lake assumed it couldn't have been, that Jesse was just being hard on himself, Jesse assured them with conviction and lucidity that, no. It was *definitely* his fault. He was fooling around with his friends, and Nate... The spell Jesse had just acquired could heal injuries but couldn't return lost flesh. So Jesse had to keep going and find something else.

At first, Lake was understandably angry, and they weren't afraid to show it. Jesse had essentially driven them way deeper than they would've ever dared to delve into the dungeons. He had lied to them about moving towards a possible way out. But one tearful apology later, and Lake suddenly wasn't as angry.

Jesse told Lake that they and Alan Dracula should leave him here. He needs to stay, but they don't. They can head back up where it's safe... or safer, at least. But Lake turns Jesse's words back on him. "WE'RE leaving together." Lake tells him that there's no way losing his brother in the infamous dungeons of fear and hunger is going to make him feel better about his arm, and that any possible magic that could recreate flesh may very well be even deeper than they are now. And they couldn't keep their current pace up. Not down here.

Jesse tries to fight it, but he knows they're right. He once more asks if they're sure they don't wanna leave him, and Lake just says that Alan Dracula wouldn't let them. It only gets a small chuckle, but the tension is broken.

Leaning on each other after a long day, they head out of the building they were in, only to find that Alan Dracula had, independently of them, already started walking away from the strange underground city, and Jesse and Lake had to run to catch up with him.

[iwanttoleavethisblankbuticant]

sick, sneezy, guilty. That’s me.

lil oc fic I thought of while being extremely horny. Based off a post from @sneezysubbyboi, find post here. I made two new oc’s just stimming from his post. Anyway, enjoy the fic. Send criticism, please (just be nice about it.) I want to learn how to do this stuff well. So if I’m forgetting something, tell me. tw: sneezing, cussing, gay (not really a trigger but still putting it here so y’all know.), messy sneezes, story doesn’t end here because I’ll be doing a part two.

kinda fluffy-ish kinda angsty. Not many sneezes yet, kinda slow burn.

Daren woke to an immediate headache. great. Just great. then came the buzzing in his nose, almost immediately causing him to sneeze. “Hecctt’ tueew!” He sneezes, loud, messy, and uncovered. That was weird. Not the not covering part, that was perfect normal. The ex cowboy rarely covered. He was shameless in manny ways. Often he would simply sneeze onto whatever was infront of him. Or, if you’re fortunate, he would aim towards the ground. Though most weren’t fortunate. His friends often got covered in the spray from his sneezes, but they could always laugh it off. It was only allergies most the time, so they weren’t worried about contagion. But this sneeze wasn’t like the normal misty spray ones the ex cowboy normally had. This sneeze left a strand of sticky mucus from his nose to his chin. this could only mean one thing: Daren was sick.

Daren sat up and tried to get his thoughts straight. First things first, he wiped away the snot coving the lower portion of his face. Most days he’d use his sleeve, but Daren really didn’t want to give this to his roommate, Dante, so he got his ass up and cleaned his face with a tissue. Once that was done, he looked at the time.

8:36

“okay, slept in by three hours and thirty-ish minutes. Dante probably thinks I’m dead at this rate.” Daren murmurs. Then he trifles threw his room a bit before finding a face mask. He put it on before exiting his room.

Sure, most the time Daren could be gross. But that was with his allergies. He didn’t want to actually get anyone sick. Especially not with this cold. He had been just fine last night, so it had come on quickly. And it was setting in his head. His nose was a constant runny mess with an itch buzz in the back of his sinuses that he refused to let build into a sneeze. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. The ex cowboy didn’t have the heart. He cared about everyone around him and didn’t want to be the reason someone else suffered. never again. never. he wouldn’t. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Daren took a deep breath to pull himself from those thoughts. It was probably just the fever making him emotional. Making him think about the parts of his past he desperately wished didn’t exist.

With a sigh, Daren wanders out to the kitchen in search for some food. Then he would go right back to quarantining himself. But as soon as he walks into the kitchen he feels eyes on him. Dante’s eyes specifically.

“you look like shit.” Dante supplies. “I feel like it.” Daren mumbles, trying to sniffle subtlety. He could feel the buzzing getting slightly more aggressive, so he wanted to stop it, but he also didn’t want to make an even bigger fool out of himself.

Dante helpfully stares at him threw his long, overgrown black bangs. Then Dante walks up to Daren, putting the back of his hand to the ex cowboy’s forehead.

“you should stay back. I don’t want to give you th-thiii-” his nose decides in that moment to flare up. Daren does a 180 and spins away from Dante as his breath hitches relentlessly. Then he pitches forward with two painfully stifled sneezes. “Hi’ NXXttchu! Ennnxxxtieww!” That last one really hurt. Daren was not use to trying to contain his powerful sneezes.

Dante stared at him like he had just grown wings. after a moment of stunned silence, Dante spoke. “I’m taking you to the hospital” he announces. Daren turns to look at him, damp spots of mucus could be seen soaking through his face mask. No doubt it felt horrible to have snot plaster to his face like that. But it was literally the least of Daren’s concerns. “Is myb feber really that high?” He asks in a congested voice. “no, but you stifled. You must be dying. Most the time you wouldn’t give two fucks about sneezing on me. And you certainly wouldn’t stifle.” Dante says, being completely serious. In all the three years of knowing Daren, Dante had never heard him stifle, or seen him cover his mouth for that matter. This was completely unheard of from Daren, so Dante was now convinced something was seriously wrong. “I’mb nob dyng.” Daren mumbles, his words barely comprehensible. Daren cringes inwardly at how terrible he sounds. “then why did you stifle?” Dante asks. “Also blow your nose so I can tell what on earth your saying.” He adds while handing the ex cowboy a tissue. Daren groans slightly, knowing his face under the mask is plastered with snot. “you mighnt not wantd to look.” Daren warns. “I watch the most gory movies and pretend to summon demons for fun. I’m not squeamish.” The goth retorts.

with a heavy sigh, Daren peels the face mask off. Tendrils of snot spread from his face to the soiled face mask. Daren quickly wipes away the snot, thick but runny, then blows his nose. A large squelching nose can be heard. But the blow was quite productive. Yet it reignited the tickle in the back of his sinuses. And with no warning at all, he snaps forward with a sneeze. More snot is pushed into the tissue, fully dampening it. Luckily the tissue was already being held up to his nose when he sneezed. Still, he can’t help but feel sorry for the close call, and for how utterly disgusting he is.

“sorry.” He practically whispers.

Dante seems completely unfazed. “it’s cool. Now explain why your acting so uncharacteristically. I’m starting to think that your not actually Daren, rather a lizard man who has stole his skin.” Dante says, sounding completely serious. He loves deadpan humor. “I just don’t want to get you sick. I’d feel bad if you got this from me. I don’t want to be the reason someone feels bad... again” Daren say quietly.

Dante sighs. “Two things: number one, I’m already destined to contract whatever you have, my immune system is absolute shit. Number two, if I do get sick, it’s the colds fault, not yours. You can’t help that you got sick and you can’t help where the virus goes from you. Number three, I know you, and I know you would never intentionally hurt a soul ever again. So forgive yourself and stop holding yourself to impossible standards. I won’t go into your trauma for your sake right now, but we’re having a talk once your better, kay?” Dante says, saying more then two things. Daren nods along, feeling to ill to protest. “I should go to my room… and rest or whatever” Daren mumbles. In all truthfulness he just wanted away from Dante to try and not get him sick.

Dante watches as he walks back to his room, not even getting whatever he came out here for in the first place. Dante wants to stop him and kiss the snot right off his roommate’s upper lip just to prove he doesn’t care about getting sick, but he knows now isn’t the time.

part two will be coming eventually.

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐒𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𝟎

Pairings: Dave/James

TW: cops, drugs

You can also read it here

“Is anyone here to see James Hetfield?”

Dave’s head shoots up from where he’d been hunched over. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sat there, but Kirk never came back after going to Lars, and he’s starting to feel a bit lonely.

He stands, knees creaking as he follows the nurse through the hospital to another wing. It’s sterile and cold, but he does his best not to feel too affected; all he can think of is James, that he’s still alive. That he’s still here.

The nurse pauses after a moment, turning to him with a soft smile.

“James is still sedated, we did some extensive surgery on him to save his life, and even though he’s still not through the worst of it, we’re quite confident he’ll be okay as long as he makes it through the night.”

As long as he makes it through the night? Dave’s vision tunnels and he scowls.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

The woman is obviously taken aback by his abrasiveness, and she frowns, crossing her arms. Dave doesn’t have it in him to feel sorry.

“It means the next few hours are vital. If he makes it through then he should be okay. He’s gonna need all the support he can get right now.”

Dave feels himself deflate, hanging his head as he blows out a long breath. God, he really hopes James makes it. He wants to at least explain things to him; especially when Jason let everything out of the bag.

He nods and the woman gives a small smile.

“He’s just in there. If he wakes up, please make sure you get one of us,” she says before opening the door for him.

He nods, not trusting his voice, before stepping in.

James is lying on the bed, pale and broken, a mask over his face and blankets up to his chin, wires sticking out of him from every direction.

Dave lets out a shuddery breath, bending to sit next to the bed, feeling shame as tears prick his eyes.

He wonders if James’s mom is going to come. As far as he knows, she’s not been well recently, so he’d be surprised if she appeared. He doesn’t want to think that none of his family will turn up though, doesn’t want to be the only one James see when he wakes up. But at the same time, a selfish part of him wants to keep James all to himself, especially when they’re both so vulnerable.

Dave scratches at the blood on his hands.

“Hey,” he says quietly, watching James’s face. James doesn’t react, cheeks slack and eyes still. Dave sighs.

“You’re gonna be okay. I’m-“ he stops, clearing his throat, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His throat clogs and he grimaces, quickly wiping away the tears that form in his waterline.

He can’t cry. He won’t. None of this is fair but he’ll be damned if he shows his emotions, even if there is no one around.

He sniffs, leans forward a little, brushes over James’s hand with his own. It’s as intimate as they’ve ever been, and it sends little electrical currents up Dave’s arm, has him shivering slightly.

He presses his lips thin, searching James’s face, before silently slipping James’s fingers into his own.

James’s hand is warm and soft, calluses on his fingers brushing against Dave’s knuckles. It’s probably the closest Dave will ever get to being close with James, he’s sure James will probably be disgusted with him when he wakes up.

And anyways, he’s not gay.

But then again, he didn’t think James was gay either until today.

He thumbs over James’s hand, watching his face for any signs of movement.

“I won’t let Jason get away with this. I won’t let anyone hurt you like this again.”

And he means it, even if he has to punch Jason into next week, he will. He’s always been skilled with a knife, Kirk knows that first hand.

At that memory, thinking back to trying to cut Kirk’s finger off, he winces, feeling guilty, something he’s not really used to feeling. But recently, talking to Kirk more, he’s realised that the smaller guy isn’t as bad as he thought. Kirk may be gay, but somehow Dave’s starting to respect him. Maybe he’s been taking out his own repressed emotions on Kirk, maybe he just didn’t want to be risked being outed.

He’s not really sure why he bullied him, but he can’t help but think now that he went a bit too far. Especially when he realises James had been in love with Kirk this whole time. It makes sense, in a way, even though it hurts so much to see James love someone that’s not him.

But he knows James can never love him, because Dave’s not sure he can ever own up to loving him back.

It’s just not something he can face, and as long as everyone keeps quiet about what happened tonight, no one even has to know.

He doesn’t even have to tell James, can lie and say everything Jason said wasn’t true.

It’s an easy way out, an easy way for James’s rejection not to hurt as much.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his spare hand, exhaling shakily.

He just wants everything to go back to the way it was where he can pretend to be this big bag football player and still have James as his best friend. Because really he’ll take James being his friend than losing him all together, he doesn’t think he can go a day without James being in his life, even if it’s not the way he wants.

A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts, and he quickly pulls his hand away from James like he’s been scolded.

He turns to see an officer step in, a thick moustache over his top lip.

“Dave Mustaine?”

“Yeah,” Dave says, feigning annoyance when really he’s just hoping he’s not in any trouble. He’s never really had to deal with the cops before.

“We’d like you to come with us and answer some questions.”

Dave sighs, glancing back once more at James before nodding.

He just hopes James doesn’t wake up until he gets back.

— —

“So can you tell us why you were in that room tonight?”

Dave scratches at his cheek, elbows resting on the table as contemplates his answer. He can’t talk about the drugs, because he’ll just get arrested for selling, so he comes up with something else.

“Me and Kirk were messing around. Jason followed us.”

The officer across from him sits back, arching an eyebrow.

“Is that so? See, that’s not what Kirk told us.”

Dave stills, frowning, anxiety starting to crawl up his throat.

“What?”

“He said you two wanted to get back at Jason for selling more drugs than you.”

That little shit. He can’t believe Kirk just dropped them both in it. But two can play at that game.

He grinds his teeth, setting his jaw.

“No, that’s not what happened.”

“Then what did happen?”

Dave pauses a moment to think, but he knows he’s not going to let Kirk put him away. If he lies, he knows he might make things worse between him and James, but at this point he’s too angry to really think about that.

“Kirk and Jason had a plan that I wasn’t aware of. They wanted to get back at me, and they both trapped me in there with a gun.”

“So you’re saying Kirk was in on it?”

Dave squints. “Damn right.”

The officer makes a surprised noise, though he doesn’t look all that shocked.  Dave feels a little satisfied that they took the news without really questioning him on it. Maybe they thought Kirk was in on it too?

“So, I have one question. Have you been selling drugs at school?”

Dave’s mood sours, and he curses Kirk for ever bringing that up.

“No comment,” he says, because he knows they’ve got no proof as long as he doesn’t confess.

The officer squints.

“Well, that’s all. You’re free to leave.”

Dave doesn’t waste another minute, instead practically running from the room as soon as the door opens.

He still can’t believe Kirk told them about the drugs when he’s told him several times not to tell anyone. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he leaves the station, calling a cab to drive him back to the hospital.

— —

When he gets back to James’s room, he finds someone else sitting in the chair he was occupying before.

Anger thrums in his veins because who the fuck is this? but as he closes the door, the person turns to look at him.

It’s Cliff, someone he’s not seen in months, but it does little to quell the anger in Dave.

“What are you doing here?” Dave asks him, accusatory.

Cliff frowns at him before gesturing to the seat on James’s other side.

Dave complies, though he’s not sure why, sparing a glance at James who seems to be the same as when he last saw him.

“His mom called,” Cliff explains, nodding at James. “She couldn’t come so she asked me to check on him.”

That at least answers Dave’s question, but he can’t help but still feel slightly disappointed when he knows what Cliff’s been doing.

As he told Kirk before, Cliff must have been exchanging information on them for drugs with Jason. He just can’t believe he could ever betray James like that.

“So, what? You told Jason everything in exchange for a bit of weed? You told him about what James talks to you about in private?”

“Wait, woah, what?” Cliff asks, confused. “What are you on about? What’s Jason got to do with this?”

Dave feels himself soften slightly.

“Do you not know what happened?”

Cliff shakes his head. “No ones told me anything.”

Well, at least Dave can hope that Cliff didn’t do this on purpose.

“Jason was the one that shot him. He shot Lars too. He was trying to get back at me.”

Cliff’s eyes widen, sitting forwards in his chair.

“Jason? Newstead?”

“What, am I speaking a different fucking language? Of course it was Jason.”

“But he always seemed so nice,” Cliff says, voice small, looking down at James now. He looks a little scared, maybe even hurt.

“Yeah well, he wasn’t as nice as we thought. Have you been telling him stuff?”

Cliff ducks his head, cheeks tinting, as he stammers.

“I didn’t realise-… we just talk sometimes. I get so high I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Well, you said enough for him to have dirt on us. How could you do that to James?” Dave asks, frustrated, balling his hands up on his lap. He won’t make this into a fight, because he doesn’t want to do that in front of James, not when he’s like this. But seeing Cliff just makes him angry.

“I didn’t know,” Cliff hisses, scowling. “It’s not like I thought he was gonna use that against you.”

There’s silence between them then, except for the monitor beeping by James’s side.

“And besides,” Cliff starts. “It’s not like you’ve been a great friend to him either.”

Dave sneers. “What the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

Cliff just gives him a pointed look, sitting back in his chair, making it clear their conversation is over.

Dave exhales, eyes landing back on James. He’s still pale, golden blonde hair framing his face, and he’d look peaceful if it wasn’t for the pinched expression on his face.

Dave guesses it’s only a matter of time before he wakes up now.

And he’s not going anywhere.

[staplegrapes]

Not On My Watch (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Description: You make a mistake that gets Sam hurt on a hunt. You're certain Dean is going to kick you out. However, you seem to be the only one who thinks that.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I wrote this fairly platonically, yet I feel like it can be left to personal interpretation.

Also, I'm working on writing and actually posting. I struggle with overthinking fics. This one was written, proof-read and posted in a record-breaking two hours.

TW: Mentions of canon-typical injuries and self-doubt

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

Narcotics had nothing on the pain-masking effect of embarrassment. Sure, you had bloody gash on your cheek, a bruise forming over your entire thigh, a throbbing hip on the other side and ringing in your ears, but you didn’t feel it, not all the way. The one thing you could feel fully was the absolute destruction of your pride.

To make a long story short, you made a mistake that got Sam hurt, really hurt. It wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed, but he was going to be out of commission for at least two months by your estimate. Two months of a constant reminder of your screw-up.

You also felt the rock in your stomach thinking about having to interact with Dean. Sure, the brothers loved you. You knew Sam would forgive you, but Dean? Dean was a complicated guy, but one thing was simple. Sam was his everything. If you didn’t love Sam the way he does, then you’re not worth his time. You made an intentional decision that got Sam hurt, nearly killed. Any chance you had with the hunter you had fallen so hard for vanished in that single moment. His worry for Sam preoccupied any sort of interaction he would have had with you on the way back to the bunker. The moment the two of you managed to position Sam on a bed in the infirmary you disappeared into your room. Dean didn’t even notice, he was already tending to Sam.

You couldn’t cry. Not before Dean even came in here and yelled at you to get out. What you could do, was take a breath and start packing. The Winchesters had graciously let you claim one of their spare rooms as your own for when you passed through. Lately, there wasn’t a lot of leaving, Sam and Dean and the bunker were the closest thing you had to a home in years, until now.

As you began to move, your physical injuries started to make themselves known, but you just ignored them and tried to breathe through it. The sooner you could high-tail it out of here the better.

You had packed up all your drawers into the duffle bag, just as you were about to start clearing off the desk and side table you heard a knock on the door. You hide the duffle under your bed. You stare at the door for a moment.

This was it. This was the last time you’d ever see Dean Winchester.

“-me in,” the words got caught in your throat from not speaking for so long.

You saw the door open slowly and slightly, only his head peaking through.

“Hey,” he says with a scowl on his face. This was going to break your heart.

“H-hey, h-how’s Sam?” what you would give to not look and sound so pathetic right now. He is probably wondering why he ever let you hang out with them in the first place.

Dean steps in the room, closing the door behind him. He still has the scowl but it doesn’t look quite as threatening as you expected. It was the type of face he had when he was stressed or concerned. Yet, at the mention of Sam, his expression softens.

“He’s doing ok, he’ll be alright, but that demon did a hell of a number on him.”

You nod, sitting back down onto the bed.

“I know I was focused on Sammy back there, but I caught your limp, Tiny Tim. I brought you this.” Dean holds out an ice pack wrapped in a towel along with a bottle of Advil you didn’t notice him holding before.

“Your hip, right? Giving you trouble again?” He questions. You nod, taking the Advil from his hand.

After you take the meds and place the ice pack there’s a silence in the room. He’s looking down to his shoes crossing his arms, once again, a sign he was deep in thought.

“Look, we need to talk about it.” He sighs. In that moment you had a surge of confidence, maybe the universe granted your confidence a final hurrah. You interrupt him before he can say anything more.

“For whatever it’s worth, I didn’t realize Sam was back there. That’s on me. I didn’t think the Demon was set on trying to kill Sam. Just don’t think I intentionally put Sam in danger. It was a mistake, but a big one, I get it.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve already hashed this out.” He shrugs much less angry than you expected. “Good talk, I’ll just go grab…”

“I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.” You cut him off.

“What?” Dean turned back with a mixed look of confusion and concern. The two of you shared the same expression. You were shocked he was shocked and he was shocked in general that you’d say that.

“You want to leave? Now?” He questions gruffly.

You shrug. “Well, I don’t want to, but…”

“You think we were gonna kick you out?” He cuts you off, realizing what you meant.

Despite Dean not reacting as poorly as you expected, you still felt guilty. You didn’t belong here. You burst into tears, burying your face in your hands. You’re not sure if it’s relief or embarrassment, it’s likely a bit of both.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” Dean pulls your hands down from your face, kneeling in front of you.

“You can’t get rid of us that easily.” He quips, taking a look at the cut on your cheek.

“I’m the reason Sam’s hurt.” You whisper.

It was quite for a moment. Dean likely was mulling through the thoughts in his head. Still, you couldn’t bear to look at him, but again, he wasn’t having any of that as he gently angled your head back to look at him.

“It was a split-second decision. You thought it was right. It wasn’t. That’s how you learn. You know how many of those Sammy and I have made risking one another? I couldn’t name them all within the last year.”

“I didn’t mean to put him in danger.”

“Sweetheart, I know. You really thought we’d kick you out?”

“It’s Sam.” You whisper. In that moment Dean knew this wasn’t about them kicking you out, it was solely about him.

“It’s you. He whispers, giving you a small smile grabbing your hand. “I know you well enough to know it was a mistake, and you’ll beat yourself up, maybe a little too hard, but you’ll make an effort to learn from it.” He kisses your knuckles. Still, it’s hard for you to wrap your head around his forgiveness.

“But, if you make another mistake, you know that’s ok right? Sam and I make mistakes, even ones we get pissed off over, but we’re family, so are you.”

“Dean, I…”

“Seriously, you’re family. Now let’s get you cleaned up. Yeah?”

You knew the argument ended there. You were their family, period.

He stands back up and as he turns his foot catches on the strap to your duffle below your bed. Looking, down, you both see his boot pulled it out far enough from underneath the bed to see what’s inside. It doesn’t take a genius to know that’s almost all your belongings.

He freezes, doing a quick glance to you and back down to the bag.

Wordlessly, he steps back closer to you, pulling you into himself in a tight hug. You’re still sitting, but the bed sits high enough your head rests just below his chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you finally realized something you had known all along. He loved you. A mistake didn’t change that in an instant.

“I’m not gonna let you bolt because of some mistake, you got that right?”

You nod. He pulls back, gently pushing you back to fully lay down on the bed. He walks to the door, for once heading to get the med kit as he meant to get before. But he can’t seem to stop himself from turning back to you one more time.

“You’re not going anywhere, not on my watch.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨