#but then my sister dropped that 'the sun's waking up' line on me

[the-cosmos-withinus]

Shadow Puppets AU - Watching the sunrise

Astrophel dreamed of being free, of traveling the cosmos again and bringing Philip and who he assumed was Caleb with him. It was hard to tell who the third person was, but if it was not Caleb he certainly had no clue who else it could be. He knew this was just a dream and not a glimpse of the future because his futuresight never showed him his own future. But Astrophel would be lying to say that this was not the future that he wanted and he awoke feeling both sad and angry that this vision was nothing more than a dream.  "Philip?" He called, not knowing whether or not his friend was still nearby. One thing he could see was the sun coming up. It was just a sliver of light on the horizon not even big enough to brighten the world yet, but it was the most beautiful thing that Astrophel had seen in a long time. "Philip! Look, the sun's waking up!" He exclaimed! Philip wasn't there. He had awoken a few minutes before the Collector, with a gnawing emptiness that had him shambling around for something to fill it. He was in a near mindless state, and had briefly picked up the Amulet to attempt to devour the soul trapped within, but set it back down a moment later; a power far greater than his own kept him from reaching inside. He could smell the collection of Palismen he kept in his cave and crawled back inside, smashing and cutting open a few to feed upon until Philip regained his senses enough to stop. Left to its own devices, the Wendigo would eat its way through the entire supply of Palismen within a matter of hours, when it had taken Philip months to gather these reserves. Back in his own mind, he concentrated hard to regain his human shape, just in time to hear Astrophel calling out to him. Something about the sun waking up. A rather adorable way to refer to the sunrise. Philip stepped out to pick the Amulet back up and put it around his neck. 

"It's a beautiful morning." He said, a rare compliment he could give this rotten world, "The sunrise almost looks the same as home." His chest felt heavy for a moment as a wave of homesickness passed through him...

[pucksandpower]

War Is Over

Lewis Hamilton x Rosberg!Reader

Summary: Lewis parks his car … right into his best friend-turned-nemesis’ little sister (and somehow reunites Brocedes in the process)

Warnings: descriptions of serious injury

Note: the fact that he not only won a race again but it was his home race … this calls for a Lewis Hamilton fic 🥹

The Monaco sun glints off sleek sports cars lining the streets as Lewis navigates his Mercedes through the winding roads. He’s running late for dinner with some sponsors and the traffic is only making things worse.

Lewis mutters under his breath, “Come on, come on. Just need to park this thing ...”

He spots an open space in front of the restaurant and starts to maneuver in, glancing at his watch. The ticking seconds only increase his frustration.

“Bloody hell, why is parking always such a nightmare here?”

Lewis throws the car into reverse, not bothering to look behind him. He’s done this a thousand times before. What could possibly go wrong?

The sickening thud comes a split second before he slams on the brakes. His heart leaps into his throat as he whips around, praying he just hit a trash bin or something.

But the crumpled form on the ground is undeniably human.

“Oh God, oh God, no ...” Lewis fumbles with his seatbelt, hands shaking as he bursts out of the car. “Please be okay, please be okay ...”

He drops to his knees beside the prone figure, a young woman with long hair obscuring her face. Blood is already pooling beneath her head.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” Lewis gently brushes the hair back, and his world stops.

It’s you. Nico’s little sister. The girl he’s known since she was in pigtails, cheering from the sidelines at their early karting races.

Lewis’ jaw drops open as the full horror of what he’s done sinks in. “Y/N? Oh God, Y/N, please wake up!”

He cradles your head, heedless of the blood staining his designer shirt. Your eyes remain closed, skin alarmingly pale.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Lewis shouts, his voice cracking with panic. “Please, somebody help!”

A crowd starts to gather, murmurs of shock and recognition rippling through them. Lewis barely notices, focused solely on your still form.

“Y/N, come on, open your eyes. Please, you have to be okay,” he pleads, gently patting your cheek. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I swear I didn’t mean to ...”

Your eyelids flutter, a soft groan escaping your lips. Lewis nearly sobs with relief.

“That’s it, that’s it. Can you hear me? It’s Lewis. You’re going to be alright.”

Your eyes open, unfocused and confused. “Lewis? What ... what happened?”

“Don’t try to move, okay? There was an accident. Help is on the way.”

You try to sit up, wincing in pain. “My head ...”

“Shh, just stay still. I’ve got you.” Lewis supports your shoulders, keeping you from moving too much.

“Did ... did you hit me with your car?” Your voice is small, disbelieving.

Lewis swallows hard. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t see you, I swear. God, Y/N, I would never ...”

You manage a weak smile. “Always knew you’d be the death of me, Hamilton.”

Despite everything, Lewis can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t joke about that. You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry to ruin your evening,” you mumble, eyes starting to drift closed again.

“Hey, hey, stay with me.” Lewis gently taps your cheek. “Keep those eyes open, okay? Talk to me.”

You force your eyes open. “About what?”

“Anything. Tell me ... tell me what you’re doing in Monaco. Are you visiting Nico?”

You shake your head slightly, then wince. “No, I ... I moved here. Got a job at the yacht club.”

“Really? That’s great. When did that happen?”

“Few months ago. Needed ... needed a change of scenery.”

Lewis nods, desperately trying to keep you engaged. “I get that. Monaco’s beautiful. Although the parking situation leaves something to be desired,” he adds wryly.

You manage a weak laugh, then grimace. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Lewis glances around anxiously. “Where’s that damn ambulance?”

As if on cue, sirens wail in the distance. Lewis breathes a sigh of relief.

“Help’s coming, Y/N. Just hang on a little longer, okay?”

You nod slightly, eyes becoming unfocused again. “Lewis?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Nico.”

Lewis’ heart clenches. “Y/N ...”

“Please. He’ll kill you. And then me. For being stupid enough to walk behind a car without looking.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Lewis insists. “I should have checked my mirrors. I was distracted, rushing ...”

You shake your head stubbornly. “Promise me. Don’t tell him.”

Lewis hesitates. “Y/N, I can’t just ...”

“Promise,” you repeat, gripping his arm with surprising strength.

Lewis sighs. “Okay, okay. I promise. But he’s going to find out eventually.”

“Let me handle it. When I’m not ... you know. Bleeding on the pavement.”

The ambulance pulls up, paramedics jumping out. Lewis reluctantly moves aside to let them work, hovering anxiously.

“Sir, can you tell us what happened?” One of the paramedics asks as they begin assessing your injuries.

Lewis runs a hand through his hair. “I ... I hit her with my car. I was backing up and didn’t see her. It was an accident, I swear.”

The paramedic nods, focused on taking your vitals. “Miss, can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N Rosberg,” you mumble.

The paramedic’s eyes widen slightly in recognition, but he remains professional. “Alright, Y/N. We’re going to get you to the hospital. Just try to stay still for me.”

As they prepare to move you onto a stretcher, Lewis steps forward. “Can I ride with her?”

The paramedic hesitates. “Are you family?”

“No, but I’m ... I’m responsible for this. Please, I need to make sure she’s okay.”

You reach out weakly, grasping Lewis’ hand. “Let him come. He’s ... he’s family.”

The paramedic nods. “Alright, but stay out of the way.”

As they load you into the ambulance, Lewis climbs in beside you, still holding your hand. The doors slam shut and the sirens wail as they speed towards the hospital.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lewis says softly.

You give his hand a weak squeeze. “Couldn’t let you ... sulk all night. You’d probably ... crash into a street lamp next.”

Lewis chuckles despite himself. “There’s that Rosberg wit. You sound just like your brother sometimes.”

You grimace. “Don’t insult me when I’m down, Hamilton.”

The banter feels surreal given the circumstances, but Lewis is grateful for it. It keeps the crushing guilt at bay, if only for a moment.

“Y/N, I ...” he starts, then falters. “I don’t even know how to begin to apologize.”

You shake your head slightly. “Later. When everything ... stops spinning.”

Lewis nods, throat tight. He watches the paramedics work, feeling utterly helpless.

“Tell me something,” you murmur after a moment.

“What?”

“Anything. Distract me.”

Lewis thinks for a moment. “Did I ever tell you about the time Nico and I got lost in Ibiza?”

You manage a small smile. “No. Spill.”

As Lewis launches into the story, embellishing for comedic effect, he can’t help but marvel at your resilience. Here you are, cracking jokes and asking for stories while bleeding from a head wound he caused.

The guilt threatens to overwhelm him again, but he pushes it aside. Right now, keeping you conscious and calm is what matters. There will be time for apologies and recriminations later.

As the ambulance weaves through Monaco’s narrow streets, Lewis silently vows to make this right, whatever it takes. He may have destroyed his friendship with Nico, but he won’t let you pay the price for their rivalry.

The hospital looms ahead, and Lewis squeezes your hand. “We’re almost there, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You meet his eyes, a flicker of something — trust? forgiveness? — passing between you. “I know,” you whisper. “I’ve got my guardian angel, after all. Even if he is a bit rubbish at parking.”

Lewis laughs, the sound catching in his throat. As they wheel you into the emergency room, he realizes with startling clarity that nothing will ever be the same after tonight.

But looking at your brave smile as the doctors surround you, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that might not be such a bad thing.

***

The steady beep of the heart monitor fills the hushed hospital room. Lewis sits hunched in an uncomfortable chair beside your bed, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. The stark white bandage wrapped around your head is a constant reminder of his guilt.

A nurse pops her head in. “Mr. Hamilton? There’s someone here to see-”

She’s cut off as Nico barges past her, his face a mask of fury. “You son of a bitch.“

Nico’s fist is already swinging towards Lewis’ face when a doctor in a white coat steps between them. “Gentlemen! This is a hospital, not a boxing ring!”

Nico’s momentum carries him forward, nearly stumbling into the doctor. He catches himself, chest heaving as he glares daggers at Lewis.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nico snarls.

Lewis stands, hands raised placatingly. “Nico, I can explain-”

“Explain? Explain how you nearly killed my sister?” Nico’s voice rises, causing you to stir in the bed.

The doctor clears his throat. “Mr. Rosberg, I presume? I’m Dr. Moreau. Perhaps we should step outside to discuss your sister’s condition.”

Nico hesitates, clearly torn between getting information and pummeling Lewis. Finally, he nods curtly. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Hamilton.”

As they step into the hallway, Lewis sinks back into his chair, running a hand over his face. He glances at you, relieved to see you’ve settled back into sleep.

In the corridor, Dr. Moreau speaks in low, measured tones. “Mr. Rosberg, your sister suffered a severe concussion and a fractured skull. There was some internal bleeding, but we’ve managed to stabilize that.”

Nico’s knees go weak, and he leans against the wall for support. “Oh God ...”

“She also has three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and various cuts and bruises,” the doctor continues. “Frankly, it’s a miracle she wasn’t more seriously injured. The impact could easily have been fatal.”

Nico slides down the wall, sitting heavily on the floor. “She ... she almost died?”

Dr. Moreau nods gravely. “It was touch and go for a while. But she’s young and strong. With time and proper care, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Nico buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. After a moment, he looks up, eyes red-rimmed. “Can I see her?”

“Of course. But please, try to stay calm. She needs rest.”

Nico nods, pulling himself to his feet. He takes a deep breath before re-entering the room.

Lewis stands as Nico approaches the bed. “Nico, I-”

“Save it,” Nico snaps, but there’s less venom in his voice now. He gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.

Your eyes flutter open. “Nico?” You mumble groggily.

“Hey, little sis,” Nico says softly, managing a weak smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car,” you deadpan.

Lewis winces, but Nico actually chuckles. “Well, your sense of humor is intact, at least.”

You try to sit up, grimacing in pain. Lewis and Nico both move to help, then freeze, glaring at each other.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Both of you, help me up. And then explain why you look ready to kill each other. Again.”

With their combined efforts, they manage to prop you up against the pillows. You look expectantly between them.

Nico breaks first. “How can you even ask that? He nearly killed you!”

“It was an accident,” you insist.

“An accident?” Nico scoffs. “He hit you with his car!”

“Which I’m pretty sure he didn’t do on purpose,” you retort. “Right, Lewis?”

Lewis nods emphatically. “God, no. Y/N, I swear, I never saw you. I was distracted, rushing ... but I would never intentionally hurt you. You have to believe that.”

Nico’s jaw clenches. “Maybe not intentionally. But your carelessness nearly cost my sister her life. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Lewis says quietly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself. But Y/N is the one who was hurt. Shouldn’t it be her choice?”

You nod, wincing at the movement. “Exactly. And I choose to forgive you, Lewis. It was an accident. A stupid, awful accident, but still an accident.”

Nico shakes his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. You’re lying in a hospital bed because of him!”

“And he’s been by my side ever since,” you counter. “He rode in the ambulance with me, held my hand through all the tests and scans. He’s barely left this room in hours.”

Lewis looks down, uncomfortable with the praise. “It was the least I could do.”

Nico runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “That doesn’t change what happened.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you agree. “But it shows he cares. That he’s taking responsibility.”

“I’ll pay for all her medical expenses,” Lewis adds quickly. “And anything else she needs for her recovery. It’s the least I can do.”

Nico snorts. “You think you can just throw money at this and make it go away?”

“No!” Lewis insists. “I know nothing can undo what happened. But I want to help however I can.”

You reach out, grabbing both their hands. “Listen to me, both of you. I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I don’t have the energy for your macho posturing right now.”

They both have the grace to look ashamed.

“Nico, I love you, but you need to calm down,” you continue. “Lewis made a mistake, a big one. But he’s trying to make amends. And frankly, I need both of you right now. I can’t deal with you at each other’s throats on top of everything else.”

Nico’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just ... when I got that call, saying you were in the hospital ... I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

You squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’m okay. Or I will be. And having you two fighting isn’t going to help me get better any faster.”

Lewis clears his throat. “She’s right. Nico, I know you have every right to hate me right now. But can we please call a truce? For Y/N’s sake?”

Nico hesitates, clearly torn. Finally, he nods stiffly. “Fine. A truce. But only for Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing back against the pillows. “Now, can one of you please get me some water? And maybe sneak in some real food? I’m starving and the hospital jello isn’t cutting it.”

Lewis jumps up. “I’ll go. Nico, you stay with her. I’ll be right back.”

As Lewis hurries out, Nico settles into the chair beside your bed. “You sure you’re okay, little sis?”

You manage a small smile. “I’ve been better. But I’ve also been worse.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “When have you been worse than having a cracked skull and broken ribs?”

“Remember when I was eight and fell out of that tree in the backyard?”

Nico chuckles. “God, I thought Mama was going to have a heart attack. You were so stubborn, insisting you could climb higher than me.”

“Still can,” you tease.

“Maybe hold off on the tree climbing for a while, yeah?”

You pretend to pout. “Spoilsport.”

The banter feels good, normal. For a moment, you can almost forget you’re in a hospital bed.

Nico’s expression turns serious. “Y/N, are you really okay with forgiving Lewis so easily? You don’t have to, you know. Not for my sake or anyone else’s.”

You sigh. “I know. And believe me, I’m not thrilled about the whole getting hit by a car thing. But Nico, you should have seen his face when he realized it was me. He was devastated.”

“He should be,” Nico grumbles.

“I’m not saying there won’t be consequences,” you continue. “But I don’t believe for a second he meant to hurt me. And holding onto anger isn’t going to help me heal any faster.”

Nico studies your face for a long moment. “When did you get so wise, little sister?”

You grin. “I’ve always been the smart one in the family. You were just too busy crashing karts to notice.”

Nico laughs, then sobers. “I was so scared, Y/N. When they called and said you were in the hospital ... all I could think was that I couldn’t lose you.”

You squeeze his hand. “Hey, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. It’ll take more than Lewis Hamilton’s terrible parking skills to take out a Rosberg.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Nico says, but he’s smiling.

Lewis returns then, arms laden with bags. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I got a bit of everything. Sandwiches, fruit, some pasta salad ... oh, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

You beam at him. “My hero.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but there’s less hostility in it now. “Is this really the time for sweets?”

Lewis grins sheepishly. “Hey, chocolate has healing properties. I read that somewhere.”

“Sounds like solid medical advice to me,” you chime in, already reaching for a candy bar.

As Lewis unpacks the food, a tentative peace settles over the room. It’s fragile, built on shared concern for you rather than any real reconciliation between the two men. But it’s a start.

You watch them, noting how they unconsciously mirror each other’s movements as they fuss over arranging the food on your tray. For all their differences, for all the bad blood between them, there’s still an underlying connection there. Years of friendship and rivalry can’t be erased so easily.

“You know,” you say around a mouthful of sandwich, “this whole arch-enemies thing you two have going on is getting a bit old.”

They both look at you, startled.

“I mean, come on,” you continue. “You were best friends for years. You’ve known each other longer than most marriages last. Is it really worth throwing all that away over some stupid trophies?”

Nico frowns. “Y/N, it’s more complicated than that-”

“Is it, though?” You interrupt. “Because from where I’m sitting — or laying, I guess — it seems pretty simple. You both love racing. You’re both insanely competitive. And yeah, sometimes that caused friction. But at the end of the day, who else understands what you have been through better than each other?”

Lewis and Nico exchange uncomfortable glances.

“I’m not saying you have to be best buddies again,” you add. “But maybe ... I don’t know. Maybe you could try not actively hating each other? For my sake, if nothing else. I’m going to need both of you while I recover and I really don’t want to deal with World War III breaking out in my hospital room.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Finally, Lewis speaks up.

“She’s right,” he says quietly. “Nico, I know things have been ... difficult between us. And I know this situation hasn’t helped. But Y/N’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For her?”

Nico hesitates, then nods slowly. “I suppose we can try. But Lewis, I swear, if anything like this ever happens again-”

“It won’t,” Lewis says firmly. “I promise you, Nico. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You beam at them both. “See? Was that so hard? Now, who’s going to help me eat all this food? Doctor’s orders, you know. Got to keep my strength up.”

As they both reach for the tray, playfully battling over who gets to hand you what, you can’t help but smile. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot. But it’s a beginning.

And really, you think as you watch the two most important men in your life grudgingly share a bag of crisps, sometimes beginnings are the best part of any story.

***

f1-fanatic-2024

[Image: Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg exiting a hospital, walking side by side]

OMG IS THIS REAL??? Brocedes spotted together??? What year is it???

#what is happening #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

brocedes-no1-stan

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

I’m sorry, but are we just going to ignore the fact that they’re leaving a HOSPITAL??? Is everyone okay???

#concerned #hope everyone’s alright #but also lowkey excited

---

vintage-f1-vibes

Okay but why does this feel like a glitch in the matrix? Haven’t seen these two willingly in the same frame since like 2016 😭

#blast from the past #what year is it #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

racing-queen-93

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

BROCEDES RISE!!! 🙌🙌🙌

My 2014 heart is SOARING right now. Never thought I’d see the day. BRB, gonna go cry in a corner.

#i’m not crying you’re crying #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1

---

silverarrows4ever

[Image set: Multiple angles of Lewis and Nico leaving the hospital, including one where they appear to be mid-conversation]

New Brocedes content in 2024? Maybe miracles do happen 😭

But seriously, hope everything’s okay. Weird to see them at a hospital.

#concerned but hopeful #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1 #brocedes

---

formula1-history-nerd

[reblogging silverarrows4ever’s post]

Okay, but can we talk about how neither of them has aged a day??? What kind of vampire magic-

#aging like fine wine #drop the skincare routine boys #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

racingdaydreams

Me: I’m over Brocedes, that ship has sailed

Also me seeing these pics: 🥺👉👈

#i’m weak okay #f1 #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

fastcarsgovroomvroom

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

Everyone freaking out about Brocedes and I’m just wondering why they’re at a hospital??? Hope everyone’s okay!

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

f1-drama-central

BREAKING: Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg spotted leaving Princess Grace Hospital together. Sources say they arrived separately but left at the same time, engaging in what appeared to be civil conversation. More updates as the story develops!

#breaking news #what’s the tea #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

retro-racing-vibes

[reblogging f1-drama-central’s post]

2014 me is SCREAMING right now. 2024 me is cautiously optimistic but also kind of worried because ... hospital?

#conflicted feelings #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

formulaonefanatic

[Image: Close-up of Lewis and Nico talking, both with serious expressions]

Whatever brought them together, it looks serious. Hoping everyone’s okay. But also ... is it wrong that I’m a little excited to see them talking again?

#concerned but intrigued #brocedes #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

***

f1-gossip-central

[Image set: Lewis, Nico, and Y/N on Lewis’ yacht. Another photo of Lewis kissing Y/N with Nico cringing in the background]

WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Lewis and Nico on the same boat??? Lewis kissing Nico’s sister??? I need answers!!!

#what timeline is this #i’m shook #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

brocedes-ride-or-die

[reblogging f1-gossip-central’s post]

EXCUSE ME??? Lewis and Y/N??? When did this happen??? How did I miss this??? 😱😱😱

#new ship alert #what is happening #f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

vintage-f1-drama

Okay but Nico’s face in that last pic is sending me 💀💀💀 Big protective brother energy

#siblings be like #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

formulaoneobsessed

[Image: Close-up of Lewis kissing Y/N]

New F1 power couple alert? 👀 But also, how is Nico okay with this?

#f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg #nico rosberg

---

racingheartstrings

[reblogging formulaoneobsessed’s post]

I can’t decide if this is the best or worst plot twist of the 2024 season 😂

Either way, I’m here for the drama!

#pass the popcorn #f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg #nico rosberg

---

silverarrowsforever

[Image set: Lewis and Nico chatting on the yacht, looking relaxed]

Can we talk about how this is the most relaxed we’ve seen these two together in YEARS??? Whatever’s happening, it seems to be healing old wounds and I’m here for it 🙌

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

f1-fanfiction-addict

Me: furiously rewriting all my Brocedes fics to include Y/N

The plot twist we never saw coming 😅

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg #fanfiction problems

---

speed-queen-101

[reblogging f1-gossip-central’s post]

Y’all are focused on the Lewis and Y/N kiss but can we appreciate how GOOD everyone looks??? That Monaco sun is doing wonders 😍

#glow up #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

formula1-history-buff

Imagine telling someone in 2016 that in 2024, Lewis would be dating Nico’s sister and they’d all be hanging out on Lewis’ yacht. They’d think you were crazy!

#how times change #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

racingdaydreams

[Image: Nico’s cringing face as Lewis kisses Y/N]

Tag yourself, I’m Nico 😂

#third wheel vibes #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

fastcarsgovroomvroom

[reblogging racingdaydreams’ post]

Petition for a reality show following this trio because I would watch the HECK out of that

#make it happen netflix #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

f1-drama-queen

THEORY TIME: What if the hospital visit from last week was for Y/N??? And that’s what brought Lewis and Nico back together??? 🤔

#conspiracy theory #but makes sense #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

brocedes-forever

[Image set: Lewis and Nico laughing together on the yacht]

My Brocedes heart is THRIVING right now. Yeah, the Lewis and Y/N thing is cute, but look at these two 😭❤️

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes #friendship goals

[janovavalen]

✧SOMETHIN STUPID. || percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: percy jackson’s first days on camp were hell to say the least—fist day and he got bullied, but when he sneaks away to be alone he finds an interesting girl in the forest.

part one.

part two.

part three.

part four.

part five.

word count:

warnings: small curses (literally like one word and it’s not really a curse but it’s considered one) reader is daughter of athena, sister of annabeth, horrid flirting, reader lowkey not felling percy for the first half’s of this story line.

taglist: @pleasingregulus

@alidearest @leovaldezluvr

when the next morning rolled in, percy was ready for his day to say the least. not even. he thinks for the first time in his entire life he was actually ready and happy to wake up in the morning with the sun shining in his face.

wiping a bit of drool off the corner of his mouth he sat up and stretched. his arms raised up into the sky above his head while he groaned loudly. happy he was the only one in his cabin to do so but not as happy at the fact some people outside probably heard him.

not caring at the moment he bounced up and got on his clothes. his regular shoes and jeans with his curls ready to go thanks to a bit of water, he made his way outside and inhaled the fresh air.

some campers had been with their siblings or just friends as always. when percy walked down the steps of his cabin he heard—‘hey percy!’. looking over to see grover who had a wide smile on his face.

‘hey grover’ he waved back while waking up to him.

‘so; what’s the move for today?’ grover asked as they started to walk.

‘the move…? dude—i don’t want to think about it more than i am already, if i go i will literally go insane because i don’t know how to even speak to her…let alone look cool’ percy helplessly sighed while walking.

‘that’s because your not every cool’ grover teased as percy looked at him with wide eyes before pushing him with a laugh.

‘no but seriously dude, just be yourself! y/n is probably one of the coolest people here, she’s so nice, chill, and funny. just be yourself—‘

‘my awkward, non-funny and embarrassing self? yeah sure we can do that’ percy rolled his eyes as grover stopped walking along with percy as he placed a hand on percy’s shoulder.

‘percy, your not like that at all—well maybe a little bit that’s besides the point. like i said, just open up, be yourself and y/n will totally connect. if anything , the two of you are actually more similar than you think you are. she’s just as corny and weird as you are—‘

‘i’m not corny and weird—‘

‘uhm…well?’

percy let his jaw drop as he laughed a bit along with grover who stayed quiet but nonetheless percy understood what he was saying and he understood what to do.

‘i get it…i just need confidence’ percy shamefully admitted while looking off to the side. grover let the little him in his mind scrape the edges of all his brain before an idea came into mind.

‘percy…i know who we can ask. i know who will help you all that way’ grover confidently admitted with a smile.

ʚ 🌊 ɞ

‘wait…you and y/n are hanging out later tonight and you need my left on what to say and how to act?’ luke asked with frowned eyebrows as percy nodded.

yeah, grover’s amazing idea was to ask luke castellan one of the more wanted boys in camp, not only that but he had seemed to know what to say to y/n to make her laugh. so maybe if percy could pick up some things from him, he could get y/n to laugh too.

‘hm..man i really don’t know—‘

‘luke please! i need this, i need you to know how important this is!—‘

‘okay! okay, let me think’ luke rushed out as he stood up from the chair he was once in. percy tried to calm down a bit as grover stood against the wall with his arms crossed over his figure.

luke had been staring at the wall for a second before he snapped his fingers together—‘i got it’ luke got the two’s attention as they were all ears.

‘when you see her start it smooth, talk to her, walk a bit close but not to close, she doesn’t really like being close to new people but be close enough to where you can feel her, speak smooth, soft—not to jumpy and not to nervous, she will definitely think about that and make fun of you later to me or annabeth. be sarcastic, she is super sarcastic so be sure you know when she’s being serious’ luke listed.

‘okay okay, what do i do about how i act..what do i wear? what would you wear…’ percy asked as he looked luke up and down.

‘what would i wear? dose that matter—‘

‘just tell him’ grover groaned while holding his face.

‘well…if i were you going with y/n i’d totally wear sweats and her f/c jacket with the shoes you have now. make sure your hair is kind of messy but neat at the same time. also make sure your shoes are tied. if you trip in front of her, dude your done for’ luke warned as he looked down at percy’s slightly untied shoe which percy was quick to tie back up.

‘lastly? use some of that poseidon power, maybe make some water move and all and it will be so cool. she will totally dig that, she even likes swimming’ luke told him as percy stood back up and nodded.

‘dude, this is totally it, your going to do so well!’ grover ran over to percy who had been in deep deep thought the whole time.

what would he even talk about? what if he calms up, freezes mid sentence or what if he does end up falling in front of her? he didn’t know, he would have to find out in the next twenty minutes.

in these remaining moments luke and grover did their hardest to boost his confidence. percy would occasionally feel like he had it then remembered how much of a clutz he actually was and how awfully bad he was at speaking to y/n.

‘percy! it’s time, dude don’t be late you can’t be late she hates late—‘

‘well, sometimes she’s late but she doesn't like it when other people are’ grover corrected as luke rolled his eyes at the remembrance on how many times y/n would go off on him for being late to practice to only show up late the next day.

‘i can’t—she will think i’m weird, look what im wearing! my pants don’t even fit over my ankles and my hair is all dried out—‘

‘dude, you look good! you look awesome and your going to kill it’ luke calmed percy down who would have continued to rant for the next thirty minutes if given the chance.

percy sighed and closed his eyes a bit before combing out his hair and dusting his fit. turning to look at grover who gave him a wide smile and thumbs up for good luck.

‘okay…i’m onto my most important quest of my life, see you guys later if i don’t die from embarrassment and rejection’ percy told them as they rolled their eyes whilst percy walked out of the cabin.

looking around to the open view of the camp around this. it wasn’t very dark, the sun was still up and the sky was dimming with a faint color of pink. clouds were moving in small groups as they moved to other places around the world.

percy always found it interesting how the sky looked. let alone how it could change colors every other day. it could look so bright and beautiful with the colors and clouds and when the night fell it showed the stars that aligned with each other and the moon that shined.

getting a bit destructed as he walked slowly but kept his gaze looking at the sky every so often as he walked only to make a grunt as he felt a body hit his own.

‘oh—i’m sorry. i wasn’t paying attention and i didn’t see—‘ looking down to see y/n who had her hands in her pockets and her mouth closed in silence she shook her head lightly giving him a small—very small smile.

‘percy it’s okay, i wasn’t looking either’ she admitted as she pulled her hands out of her pockets to fix the three rings that sat on her fingers, shining in the reflection of the sun that set above the lake.

‘o—oh, okay. okay so i guess we have something in common after all’ he smiled lightly while looking at y/n who tilted her head to the side.

‘and that is…?’ she wondered. percy shrugged as if it was the most simple question asked.

‘not being able to stay in the real world without getting distracted’ he admitted. y/n let herself think about it for a bit before scoffing and looking away before back at him.

‘well, you can say that but i know when to bring myself back to reality’ y/n teased at how percy could stare at a wall and imagine anything and everything for three hours without moving. he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

‘no way you said that, i can do that any day, i can also read a book and finish only one without going into the next that same moment’ he teased back at y/n who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

‘hm, i’m not saying you win but im not saying anything else on this topic as of right now’ y/n said as she walked down the steps to lead to the dock of which was followed with the lake.

‘well then i guess i do win for right now and if you can think of something please do tell and share’ percy walked close next to y/n who shook her head once more.

the two of them walked down to the woody dock with the lake across them as the sun had been setting.

‘so…i kinda don’t know what to talk about—‘

‘i can tell—‘

‘but we can totally make some things up, how was training today?’ percy ignored her insult and kept speaking which y/n noticed.

‘it was okay. i need more training from luke tomorrow i slipped up on my sword today and it was embarrassing’ she revealed as the two of them made it down to the lake.

‘i’m sure it wasn’t as bad as mine’ percy tried to help only for y/n to say—‘it definitely wasn’t but i could’ve done better’ percy decided to keep quiet on the insult once again with a smile as he looked at her as she looked into the distance.

percy faced the water in front of them as he squinted his eyes ever so slightly with the yellow and orange light from the sunset his his eyes making it brighter than ever. turning his head to look at y/n who had her gaze set at the sky he examined her face. he found himself doing this quite often which he didn’t really know why.

he found it calming? interesting, fun, comforting and sweet to watch and draw out her facial features which she probably didn’t even know existed. the small beauty marks that were peppered over her face. the way her hair sat along her shoulders and neck, her face which shined in the light of the sun.

smiling to himself ever so slightly he sighed and found a small idea.

‘wanna swim?’ he casually asked. y/n looked over at him with frowned eyebrows and scoffed a laugh.

‘swim? in this lake? yeah no thanks—‘

‘don’t be lame! come on, when’s the last time you had fun?’ he turned his body to face her own as she did the same with hers to him.

‘the last time i had fun? maybe when i beat you in training the other day?’ she reminded leaving him to roll his eyes and cross his arms over his body.

‘no not that, i mean actual harmless fun? laughing and just hanging out.’ he asked leaving her to sigh and shrug.

‘i don’t know, i’m not a fun person—‘

‘that changes today then, come on!’ grabbing her hand as he tugged she yelped unexpectedly and pulled her arm back before he could jump with her leaving him to be the only one in water.

covering her mouth with both hands cupped she laughed aloud as he moved his way through the warm water around him.

‘percy!’ she yelled out with a smile as he made his way to the top of the water, his hair falling down onto his face and the curls being prominent. scoffing as he looked up at her, y/n had been drying with laughter.

this is the most he’d ever seen her do any emotion other than being cold stone serious.

‘are you serious!?’ he yelled as she laughed more—‘you're just a scary cat, really! the water isn’t even that bad’ he bragged while swimming up to the dock.

‘says the son of poseidon’ she hinted at leaving him to flick some water into her face which she responded with a gasp too.

‘percy jackson!’ she yelled while whipping her face.

‘you don’t need to be a kid of poseidon to have fun in the water, anyone can, that just shows how much fun you can have.’ he teased while moving his arms around in the water.

laughing a bit y/n slowly sat down with her legs beneath her as her arms held her body so she could lean forward.

percy had now been looking up at her as his own body fell hidden under the water. his arms moving to keep him floating.

‘having fun in there?’ she asked with a lifted brow.

‘you could be too your just so lame’ he exaggerated while rolling his eyes leaving her to laugh and shake her head.

‘i’m not getting into the water with you percy, you can have that all to yourself’ she replied with a grin of which he replied with his own smile. noticing the way her face looked with the shimmers of the water and how it shined around her, he smiled and looked over her face once more.

y/n noticed but froze, not knowing what to do, trying to see what he’d do himself. but at the same time she felt herself examining his face.

placing his arms on the low dock to lift himself up the two of them sat face to face which she was nervous about. the water dripping from his face and down his pointed nose. the curls dripping onto the dock below him, the once dry wood absorbing the water from his hair.

looking at her face once more he helplessly admitted—‘your so beautiful.’ his eyebrows frowning as she looked into his eyes she scoffed a bit and shook her head trying to leave only for him to jump into action and take her hand in his.

‘i mean it…i’ve been thinking this since the first time i saw you…your just, different—‘

‘percy…’ she nervously mumbled while her hand became wet with his own.

‘and i’m not afraid to admit that i’ve been waiting to tell you that. it’s like the more i see you the more i want to know? the more i need to know about you. i can’t really explain it but…’

as he stopped talking y/n nervously looked at him with her breath becoming shortened and her lungs screaming. her heart was beating faster than ever right now and she didn’t know what to do at all.

‘percy…please—‘

‘y/n…i like you.’ he admitted. she felt her heart drop down to hades castle .

‘i mean…i think i do? i don’t really know. there’s not much i can say because i don’t even know what the work like is i mean i can say i like blueberry pancakes or i like blueberries and the ocean but that a different type of like…the type i feel for you is different than blueberry pancakes, do you understand—‘

‘i cant…’ she said. his heart stopped.

nervously laughing with his hand slowly gripping and letting go her own he looked into her eyes and over her face—‘you can’t..understand? or you can’t…reciprocate…’

‘i don’t know? i just can’t—i have to go’ she snatched her hand back before leaving percy to stand by himself on the dock. wet, heartbroken and so so confused. was he just rejected?

the worst she could say is no? yeah well the worst she could say is ‘i can’t’

ʚ 🌊 ɞ

‘what’s do you mean she said she can’t—‘

‘that’s all she said! that’s literally all she said before leaving me standing there as i stupidly watched her leave! i thought i had this. i thought we had something going!’ percy embarrassingly whined into his hands as he sat with grover and luke who watched their friend handle the rejection.

‘oh dude…i mean it’s not bad—‘

‘she literally left me there alone and didn’t turn back!’

‘oh..well, there’s always other fish in the sea’ grover tried to calm but only making it worse.

‘but i wanted that fish!’ he exaggerated as luke looked at grover who held his hand over his head while picking his horns.

‘okay…listen we can’t let you act like that—that was far—‘

‘what is far was my heart that was ripped out of my chest and thrown into that lake.’ percy leaned back into the bed while he looked at the wood above him.

luke and grover watched as percy stared into the ceiling while replaying one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. groaning at the replay luke stood up heroically.

‘okay! okay…we can fix this…y/n is not one to leave a question unanswered…we will fix this percy. just give me some time, give me until tomorrow when i train her, i can bring it up and maybe she’ll tell me something i can tell you—‘

‘really! you’ll do that?’ percy jumped up from his sadness and excitingly looked at luke who nodded.

‘i’m ninety-three percent sure she’ll tell me something anyway. while i’m way it, grover can give you a signal when to walk by and you do not look at her okay? don’t look our way so she will turn around and see you and that’s when she’ll tell me’ luke planned as grover nodded and percy as well.

‘dude…you guys are amazing…but if i get rejected again i think im going to take my chances out in the real world and see what monsters come out for me.’ percy told them as they scoffed.

and yet again another plan had been formed.

percy didn’t think to keep a scoreboard anymore but let’s just say embarrassment one and percy zero.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — Violet reveals her surprise location. Dinner and a stroll ensues.

WORD COUNT — 2.5K

WARNINGS — some vague descriptions of body shaming

NOTE — Finally these two can really get into it! Absolutely loved writing these moments they have alone and are able to use to get to know each other better. As usual thanks to Mama and Sister duck for editing!

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑽: 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬, 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬

“Please tell me I am not the only one who’s happy that the meeting is over?” you asked while going to sit in the car. 

“No, that meeting was…” 

“So boring?” 

“Very boring,” Violet agreed. 

“And now we have to go straight to the airport and wait in line at security,” you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Why don’t you rest,” Violet suggested. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

You nodded your head, not feeling that bad as your obligations for the day were technically complete. What you didn’t know was that as soon as you drifted off your destination was no longer the airport. 

When you were finally stirred awake, you blinked a few times and looked out of the window, realizing you were definitely not in the departure drop off area. 

“Violet, where are we?” you asked with a yawn. 

“Surprise,” she said softly with a smile. “I changed our flights back to tomorrow.” 

“You did?” you chuckled. 

“I don’t know if you recall, but I did make a promise to bring you somewhere,” she said, opening the car door. “Come, let me show you around.” 

You opened your car door, stepping outside and fully taking in your surroundings. 

You were by the ocean, you could hear the water lapping distantly against the shore while the sun cast a golden hue across the buildings. 

“This is Ostia,” she explained. “It’s a neighbourhood I used to frequent with my family when I was younger and we were on holidays.” 

“And why did you want to bring me here?” you asked curiously, looking over at her and noticing the way the sunlight seemed to make her hair glisten and her eyes shimmer. 

“Well, one of my favourite restaurants is right over there,” she pointed to a small place on the corner. “And I have had a lot of good memories here and I thought it might be about time to make a few more.”

You smiled at her words, your hands making their way to your hips. 

“And how do you plan on doing that?” 

“First food,” she said, walking around to meet you on your side of the car, guiding you towards the restaurant. “The rest tends to fall into place after that. Think of this as an employee appreciation day.” 

“Oh does that mean this is all covered then?” you joked. 

“It’s a business trip, of course it is,” Violet grinned. “Just don’t tell Anthony,” she added, only slightly kidding. 

When you and Violet entered the restaurant you noticed the place was not what you had thought. Instead of a lavish seaside eatery, it was a small, most likely family owned, company. The host immediately recognized Violet and offered her a friendly greeting and a comment of not seeing her in such a long time.

“This is my friend,” she introduced you. “Is there any chance you have a table you can spare for us?”

“For you, we always have a table,” he patted Violet’s shoulder. “Come, I take you somewhere more private.”

Violet placed a hand on your back and you felt a small tingle where she touched you but you tried to focus instead on where she was leading you, a place where the host had a table set up in a more private area of the restaurant.

“Same wine as usual?” he asked.

Violet nodded with a smile as you both sat down across from each other. She sighed and settled into her seat, clearly feeling at home in the small institution.

“When was the last time you were here?” you asked once the wine was brought out. 

“Oh, far too long ago,” she said. “I used to come here with my father when I was a young girl, and then when Edmund and I got married we always made a point to come back, especially after my father passed away. It just hasn’t quite felt the same now that they’re both gone.”

Something about the outing felt particularly intimate. She was taking you to a place she had once frequented with members of her family, somewhere that clearly carried a lot of meaning for her. 

You didn’t comment on the fact that she had chosen to share this space with you, instead you focused on enjoying the wine and the good company, picking Violet’s mind about what her favourite menu items were. 

When the food arrived after you had ordered, you eased into a regular rhythm of conversation that always seemed to flow whenever the two of you were together. 

“Wait, so you mean to tell me that Benedict, Eloise, and Gregory managed to prank Anthony?” 

“To be fair, Gregory was hardly even two years old, he was mostly a prop on my husband’s insistence. Sometimes I used to think we only had so many children so he’d have more people to scheme with when it came to his practical jokes,” Violet explained. “They still talk about it to this day, and Anthony detests whenever it is brought up, although his wife rather enjoys the story.” 

“I don’t blame him, I absolutely hate being pranked,” you admitted and then took a bite of your food. 

“Well, it was only done in retaliation. Anthony had previously done something quite nasty towards Benedict and Eloise and so they enlisted their father’s help to get back at him.” 

“Oh, in that case he deserved it,” you changed your mind, and Violet laughed. 

“You know,” Violet began. “I feel as though you’ve gotten to know my family quite well. Occupational hazard, surely, but I…” 

“You don’t really know me,” you filled in and she nodded her head. 

“I’d like to though.” 

You pressed your lips together, feeling a burning sensation in your cheeks while you pushed around some of the food on your plate with your fork. 

“I’m afraid my life isn’t that interesting,” you said. “I just grew up, went to school, got a job. All the little details seem to blur together.” 

“Never had anyone special?” Violet asked, and you shook your head, swallowing thickly, not quite the topic of conversationconver you were wanting to broach so you attempted to come up with an answer to steer her away.

“No, not really. I mean I’ve dated people, I’ve had relationships, but nothing that feels like it’s…” your voice trailed off in search of the words. “Worth keeping.” 

Violet nodded her head sympathetically, her forearms resting against the table. 

“What about your family?” she asked. “Are you close?” 

“Relatively,” you nodded. “We don’t always see each other, but we love each other, and I guess that’s what matters in the end.” 

“It is indeed,” Violet agreed. 

“I am a simple creature, Violet. Unfortunately, I’m not sure there’s much else I can share.” 

Violet gave you a soft smile and sipped her wine. She was sure there was something in there worth sharing, but she just wasn’t sure how to get it out. 

“What about your years at school?” she asked. “I imagine you were a diligent student but even diligent students have stories.”

“I tried to be,” you nodded your head and thought about her question, seeing if any memories came up from your undergrad. “Okay, maybe you’ll enjoy this story,” you said, settling back in your seat, your own glass in hand as the memory slowly came back to you.

Violet seemed excited that you had something to share and leaned in towards the table to listen intently. 

“So, the university I went to had this program you could sign up for to get out and go on small trips around Europe and the UK throughout the semester. Really, I think it was an excuse to get out of our dorms and meet new people. My parents thought maybe it would be a good idea to sign me up and pay for it as a gift even though I think they could hardly afford it along with my tuition costs, but that’s not the point,” you waved your hand. “Anyway, the first one we did was not too far, just up in Scotland and I made a friend on the way there and we decided to stick together for the trip. Day three rolls around and we go to this festival or parade, something big that was happening in Edinburgh and we almost immediately got lost and separated from our group.”

“I think the real question is why did you get lost?” Violet inquired and you could feel a heat coming to your cheeks.

“Let’s just say I was admiring the highland dancing,” you settled on. “In the end, these really nice gentleman with bagpipes got us to walk the parade with them thinking it was probably the easiest way for us to cover enough ground to find our group, but we never did, and by the end of the parade we were drinking in a pub with a load of Scots and I can’t quite say I remember the rest of the evening,” you chuckled. “Just waking up the next morning on a bench with the police looking for us.”

“The police?” Violet was shocked.

“The group had put in a missing persons report, we didn’t get up to any trouble, or at least as far as I’m aware,” you made a slightly concerned face before sipping your wine. “But I now have a friend for life so I suppose in the end it was worth it.”

“Did you go on any more of these trips?” Violet asked.

“Well, I had to, my parents had paid for it,” you nodded your head. “Although I did try to avoid the pubs after that first experience. I’m not sure my back has ever fully recovered from sleeping on that bench.”

“It’s a miracle you didn’t lose each other again,” she chuckled. 

“No, I really do think someone was looking out for us that night because clearly we did not have the sense to do it ourselves,” you chuckled and paused for a moment, watching as Violet looked at you fondly. “Is that the kind of story you were looking for?” 

“Any story you’re willing to share is one I’m willing to hear,” she said. 

You smiled at her and finished up your wine with some light chatter before the meal was paid for and the cook was personally thanked and you headed back outside, catching the clouds as they painted the sky hues of pink and orange just after the sun had set. 

“Wow,” you breathed. “That’s quite something, isn’t it?” 

Violet silently nodded her head, taking in a deep breath, the air from the sea water filling her lungs and reminding her of moments that were long since gone. 

“I had our bags dropped off at the hotel, it’s right across the beach over there,” she pointed over your shoulder.

“Perhaps a walk along the beach is in order then?” you asked, and Violet nodded her head once more. 

You noticed how she pulled out a large pair of sunglasses from her purse along with a silk scarf that she laid over her head and there around her shoulder like a covering. 

You couldn’t imagine what that felt like. Constantly feeling as though there were eyes lingering on you. Wanting to hide, fearful of what part of your lives might be broadcasted for the whole world to see. 

Sensing this caution coming on her part, you made sure there was a respectable distance between you as you walked together, but Violet seemed more focused on the ocean regardless, slipping off her flats and carrying them in her hands, while dipping her toes in the Mediterranean. 

“How’s the water?” 

“Refreshing,” she looked back at you. “I used to swim a lot on beaches like these.” 

Her musing tone made you think perhaps there was a reason other than the passage of time that made her stop. 

“When your family would visit?” you attempted to ease into the topic. 

“Yes, my mother didn’t know how to swim. I don’t think she thought it was particularly important, but I begged my father to teach me, unfortunately he wasn’t particularly well equipped, but he made the effort to get me a good teacher and then it became quite hard to get me out of the water.” 

You barely let her finish before you asked your next question. 

“Why did you stop?” 

Violet paused, the water coming in soft waves, crashing around her ankles as she looked down at her painted toe nails through a small cloud of sand that had been disturbed by the water rushing through. 

“Violet?” your voice was gentle, trying to pull her out of wherever her mind was, seeing flashes of memories go past her eyes, glimmers of past pain resurfacing. “I-I’m sorry for asking. You don’t have to say anything,” you retracted your question. 

You and Violet continued to walk in silence, until you heard her voice quietly speak over the waves. 

“I stopped after Anthony was born.” 

You continued your walk in tandem, hearing the water slosh around Violet as she walked. 

“Edmund and I were always in our own little world. I never really thought much of the way I looked after I had given birth because my husband always worshipped the ground I walked on,” she explained quietly. “And so when we took a little trip with baby Anthony to Greece for a wedding I immediately got Edmund to look after him so I could slip away for an hour and go for a swim. A few days later my mother phones and makes the extra effort to express-mail a copy of a tabloid to our hotel.” 

Violet didn’t continue speaking. She knew you got the gist of what she was saying. 

You thought for a moment, wondering if there was anything you might say, not that anything would make her feel better about a situation as horrible as that. It was bad enough that those around you could be cruel, why did the world need to throw in their opinion too?

“I’m sorry you can’t do the things you enjoy anymore,” you said quietly. “I hope one day you can walk outside and feel as though no one is watching you.”

“As do I,” Violet agreed. 

It wasn’t much longer before you arrived at the hotel and checked in. A bellboy brought your bags up to your room for you and just before you parted ways, still leaning against your doorframe you looked over at Violet. 

“Thank you for this,” you said. “I had a wonderful time.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to share this place with anyone. I should thank you for giving me an excuse,” she smiled. “Breakfast is at nine on the waterfront then we’ll head to the airport after that.” 

“See you tomorrow Violet. Rest well,” you patted the doorframe and turned into your room, leaving Violet resting against her door with a sigh escaping her lips. 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[yiiyiiwrites]

JJ Maybank x Older Maybank sister

Summary: JJ's older sister calling him to fix her crappy car...featuring a kook. (I know nothing about cars so I looked up the basics but still this won't be accurate). 1024words

The car jutted, smoke curling out from under the bonnet, a cloud escaping with it when she opened it to look at the engine. She stood over the car, hands on her hips and sighed. The sun glared down on her, her bare shoulders feeling the burn.

She glanced around the quiet back road, the sound of birds and wind rustling through the long grass the only thing she could hear over the sizzling car.

As much as she hated asking for JJ's help, anything with an engine was his domain. She did not have a clue on what was what and how to fix it. She opened her flip phone and dialled her brothers number.

"Hey, Jayj." She bit her lip, his mumbled voice filtering through the speaker, "sorry did I wake you? Cars smoking can you come look at please."

He rolled off a load of questions. "I don't know it just started smoking, I'm on the back roads you can't miss me." The beeping of her phone cut her off, screen turning black before she could say anymore.

She left the bonnet up and opened the trunk to create some shade for herself and sit on the back. Now she just had to wait for her brother to come before she melted away. The downside of driving on the weekend in the early mornings, no one driving past for a while.

A beep startled her, she grabbed the side of the car to stop herself falling into the trunk. Rounding the car she came face to face with Topper Thornton, Kook. She raised her sunglasses and rested them on top of her head.

"Oh Maybank." Topper fell back a step as she came closer and glanced to him and the bonnet he was close to. "You need a hand?" He scratched the back of his neck, bicep bulging. He dropped his arm and leant it on the front of her car.

"No, no that's really alright." She pulled him by his elbow before he could touch anything, one thing she learnt from JJ was never touch the engine when hot.

He stilled at the touch and looked down to her hand on him.

She jerked back as if burnt, hand retreating from him. "My, brother's actually on his way. He won't be long." She peered over her shoulder hoping to see him and his motorbike down the road.

Topper nodded, but turned back to the engine and examined the contents under bonnet. "That's cool, do you need a ride anywhere?" He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood back from the car.

"I'm sorry what?" She stumbled over her words, brows furrowing at his kindness. "Why do you care?" She scoffed.

He released a breath and rubbed the faint stubble on his chin, bloody knuckles catching her attention. The sight drawing her attention to the bruise on his jawline.

"Well you can't drive that and you're on your own on the back roads. It's not safe to be out here on your own." He said crossing his arms over his chest. Short sleeves clinging to his muscular arms.

Shaking the wandering thoughts from her head, she was reminded of who he was. A Kook and her brothers enemy. "You're the last person I'd get in a car with." She rushed to the drivers side and swung the door open. Toppers hand shot out and slammed it shut, chest brushing the back of head.

"Can't drive it like this." He shouted leaning his weight against it so she couldn't open the door.

She turned around and press her back up against the car, chest rising up and down as she looked up to him. "Back off!" She shoved him and he fell back a step.

Topper huffed in annoyance, his gaze going to the clear sky before landing back on her. "It's dangerous."

"The only dangerous thing will be my brother if you're still here when he gets here." She smiled, lips faltering as it pulled on the cut on her lip.

Without thinking Topper brushed the pad of his thumb across her chin and tipped her head to look back up at him. "What happened to your face?" His eyes narrowed at the gash, frown lines settling on his forehead.

"What happened to yours?" She spat back. Her boots felt like they were anchored to the spot, unable to move in his gentle hold. A unfamiliar gesture for her.

She didn't hear the wheels on gravel or the motorbike zipping down the road. Topper's body ripped away from her.

"What the hell man." JJ yelled, his fist crashing into Toppers cheek.

Topper swayed back and wiped the blood from his nose, eyes blinking. "I was just trying to help!"

Wincing at the sickening crack, she tried to move forwards and check on Topper, but JJ yanked her back by her wrist shaking his head.

"Yeah course you were."

"Just leave it JJ." She grabbed the back of his t-shirt dragging him away from the Kook. She wasn't quite what happened, the moment fuzzy now that she had some space between him.

JJ glared over his shoulder to his older sister, his eyes wandering her face. He waited for the jeep to disappear before he relaxed, shoulders dropping and fists unclenching. "What the hell was that?"

She avoided his gaze and shrugged her shoulders. Her mind wandered back to Topper, his presence today confusing her. She couldn't understand why he'd stopped to help.

"You know what I don't want to know." JJ mumbled to himself as he examined the engine. "Should have told him to keep driving." He continued muttering to himself whilst he busied himself with the car.

"Needs a tow."

Passing a bottle of warm water to JJ, she thanked him. She gathered her bag from the seat and locked the car.

"Don't worry you couldn't pay someone to steal that junk." He hooked his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"Shut up." She laughed trying to escape from his headlock, palms slapping his arm for him to release his hold on.

"F..cking Kooks man."

✨ Older sister and younger brother JJ. Hope you enjoyed, not editted. A fun small fic :) - Yiiyii

[bisayawa]

the caretaker's side ; alejandro vargas/fem! reader

― sickfic, hurt/comfort, fluff, tiniest bit of angst

― reader is fem, regarded as sampaguita (a fragrant flower native to tropical asia), she/her pronouns used

warning: icky sickness stuff, vomiting, coughing, pills, capsules, crying.

note: i don't think this is anything, just recalling what i've experienced when skipping meals (gastritis? i think it's called? i try to explain it somewhat here.) reader & al are in a situationship of some kind. idk i didn't think this through. not proofread.

"good to see you back, alejandro!"

the afternoon was noisy with chatter & song. his cousins were frantic to meet with him once they arrived, shouting praise & honor with each grin they wore. his mother, his father hugged him so tight they might as well have been one. his sisters, his brother ― nearly crying when they saw his scruffy face. his little nephews & nieces ― excited in the way they walked & talked & held his hand all the way through the day.

but there was one person, amidst all the laughter & noise of the day, he found himself thinking of.

"so... mama," he tried to broach, though he knew in his heart his questions wouldn't get past her. his mother is perceptive as she is loving.

"yes?"

"sampaguita still lives down the street, no?"

she smiles, the lines of her face squinching up. it masks her suspicion.

"yes, she does," his mother says. "still the same house, still working in the same clinic. if i recall, she's trying to visit her family for the holidays ― in november maybe."

"...and her father?"

"he's travelling, cariño, but last i heard ― just as he left, she went down with a terrible sickness. she took leave about half a day ago." his mother's voice had taken a curious quality, soft & cheeky.

alejandro's face falls at the sickness of his friend.

"oh," he intones. "is she alright then? did she go to a hospital?"

"oh, no, cariño." her voice is honey, chokingly so ― too sweet to not be a scheme.

"she wanted to take care of herself in her own home. we tried to help but ―" she shrugs. "she refused, felt herself a burden, poor girl."

the sentence did its job. the seed was planted. alejandro would visit his friend come morning.

―

"alejandro? you're back!" is what you say when you open the door, eyes bleary & grey-faced in the wake of the sun.

"yes, that i am, sampaguita,"

the lines of his grin still make you warm in the chest. your friend, as always, was as handsome as could be.

"i'd invite you inside but," your hoarse voice tapers down. you see your buckets & dropcloths by the sink, the sheets of pills & capsules, a gatorade going warm on the floor. "it's a mess in here."

"that's exactly why i'm going inside, sampaga."

"what?"

"i heard you were sick. you need someone to help."

"wha ― no, alejandro, you don't need to ―"

"i've already made up my mind."

"you ― you shouldn't waste your leave on something like this!"

"with you, it's not a waste." he says, no violent rejection ― just the gentle strength of words & care. "please, let me in."

you grumble. your matted hair is wiry, curling along your shoulders. you feel like a mess, sweaty from trying to break your fever, unable to take a bath because of said fever. your clothes were from the day before yesterday, most likely with drops of regurgitated food, smelling of stomach acid.

"sampaga," he meets your eyes. "i won't take no for an answer."

you wilt, shrugging into yourself.

"you won't be disgusted?"

"mi cariño, i work in the special forces. i believe i've seen worse."

you always thought that there were times he's had to use that exact grin for his job ― to reassure families, children of the safety he'd give. you just didn't think you'd be one of the people receiving it.

you welcome him inside, closing the door with a click & locking it in place.

his eyes rove from wall to wall, corner to corner. he sees the buckets, the dropcloths, the pills, the capsules, even the gatorade going warm on the hardwood floor.

he finds your face, and smiles, tight-lipped, sincere. it was meant to comfort & it did exactly that.

"come on," he says. "let's get you to bed."

entering the bedroom brings more mess. there was porridge on your nightstand, half eaten & cold. a bottle of water stood by, three quarters of the way full. your sheets were a mess. the blanket was running down the side of the bed. a pillow was sitting on the floor.

without a word from you, he sets out to fix the bed sheets.

you had half a mind to protest before deciding you wouldn't win that conversation. you choose to carry the bowl of porridge to the kitchen sink, watering it down before going back to bed.

he holds your hand when you settle down, sitting by your legs when your head finds the pillow.

"how'd you get sick?" is what he asks, kneading the cloth where your knees billow the blankets up.

"i skipped a meal."

"well, there you go," he chuckles, and so do you.

you recline to your side, ruffling up the sheets even further.

"i had an early breakfast the other day & by the time 11 o'clock happened, i was already hungry. i couldn't find the time to eat ― i had forgotten because we had a fire safety seminar."

your hair is curling up & around, looking like a crown.

he sees you yawn & his eyes go softer.

"it's interesting though," you say. your hand is now on his.

"what is?"

"this isn't from bacteria, you know? or a virus or any infectious agent. it's just... my body doing its job because i didn't take care of it."

"see? even your body is telling you to take care of yourself. ah, so stubborn, never listening to anyone."

at that, you laugh with him. the corners of your lips pushing your cheek further into the pillow.

"i'll listen from now on, i promise."

he faintly feels your fingertips kneading circles into his knuckles.

"wait, if you skipped a meal, how come the...?" he recalls the buckets & cloths strewn around the house.

"skipping a meal means the acid in the stomach ―" you cough into your elbow, rough, forceful. "the acid in the stomach has no food to digest. it sits there long enough, it eats into the stomach lining."

"so... the stomach,"

"the stomach gets irritated, inflammed. some people bleed, too. the irritation means you can't keep the food down, or at least, a lot of it." you clear your throat. "antacid helps. painkillers, too."

he cards his fingers through your hair & kisses your brow. he holds your cheek in his hand. it's warm against his palm.

"you stay here, okay?" he asks. "i'll clean up, and then i'll make you some soup."

"alejandro ―"

"whatever you say won't stop me." his grin is smug but genuine. he wants to take care of you, you realize belatedly.

"thank you. you don't have to do this."

he chuckles. "i'd do it ten times over if i have to. you're never getting rid of me, sampaguita."

―

the first bout of emesis he witnesses happens late at night.

he had taken to using the guest room after insisting you needed to be monitored even in sleep. you lost that conversation fighting, he admits, but still, you lost.

the room was close to the bathroom, where he heard your footfalls echo into the dead of night.

he opens the door & finds a sliver of light carving the hallway in half.

he sees you, then, on the floor, with your hair in your hands. the force of your stomach clenching makes you jump from your seat. it looks painful, especially with the way you're hunched over.

he sits with you, taking your hair & rubbing circles into your back. the corrosive smell did not ward him away. the line of spittle & half-digested food did not scare him.

he hears you cough, a detonation of fireworks in the muscles of your throat. it catches in your esophagus. you're tearing up, and when you spit it out, it comes streaked with blood.

it's there that alejandro flinches. seeing that bright red, seeing it come from you, you who was in pain, who was tired, who had your sleep interrupted by bouts of nausea.

he couldn't help it. he hugged you tighter.

―

he found a cloth somewhere in your room. he didn't remember.

all he recalled was drying the tears that ran down your face, wiping the corners of your lips.

"i can do it myself, alejandro," your voice was rough, like stone grating on iron. it sounded like the color red, raw & bleeding. agony in a breath.

alejandro couldn't reply. what would he say? that he couldn't do anything else but bring you medicine & food? that the sickness in your body can only be fought by you? that if he could fight your hurts rather than nurse them, he would?

illness was an invisible enemy. no strategy, no surprise. just waiting & watching for results until it all becomes better again.

he didn't know illness could hurt from the caretaker's side, too.

"you coughed until you drew blood,"

"so? it's not the first time."

your words startle him. how could you say that so cavaleirly? so carelessly?

"that's not... cariño, that's not the p―"

"it's not that serious ―"

"to me, it is, cariño! listen!"

he raised his voice. he begged the earth would swallow him whole.

"i didn't mean to shout... at you. it's ― you're..."

his irises meet yours & he feels himself grow small.

you were crying. big fat droplets were running down your cheeks, reaching the bunched up sheets inside your clenched hands. you swallow, come back to your senses.

the water registers & you're frantic to wipe away every last tear.

"no..." your voice was breaking like glass. "alejandro, just get out, please, this isn't your fault. i'm sorry. i'm not crying because of you."

the words are blurred together, coiling & writhing in a symphony of your hoarse, broken tenor.

alejandro feels a lump in his throat. he's caused you more pain, and you were apologizing. he doesn't want to cry, too. no, he shouldn't.

his hands have gone limp on the blankets, unsure, hesitant.

"samp ― may i hold you, please?" there's a crack when he says please.

you eyes are filling with tears again. they run along their course & meet the corners of your lips.

"yes..." your voice ― a stained glass window stoned to splinters. "please."

and so he does, planting his hands on your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. your hair tickles the underside of his chin, catching on the scruff.

there's a low groan wheedling out your esophagus, bringing with it an uneven breath.

then another.

and another.

you're hiccupping. your whole chest is trembling under him. your lungs under his fingertips stretch with each inhale, trying to accommodate air that shouldn't be there.

"deep breaths, cariño, deep breaths."

he has to remind himself not to hold you too tight, else you get smothered. with no other avenue to reassure you, he does what he can. he rubs your back & kisses your forehead.

"i'm sorry." he says into your temple.

"you ―" two erratic inhales. "you shouldn't be sorry."

the pitch of your voice rises & falls. the muscles in your throat spasm in tune with the inhales.

"no, i am. i'm sorry that i ―"

"stop apologizing, please." you bury yourself further into him, weave your arms around his torso. "stop it, stop it, please."

it's barely a whisper but he follows, blindly, as if your words were gospel.

―

the day goes on after dawn.

your head was splitting after your sobbing session. you take a paracetamol sooner than the prescribed four hours.

alejandro was busy cooking you something. soup, you guessed, or maybe more porridge. you couldn't tell from the smell. both your nostrils were blocked.

you'd been restrained to sitting or lying down on the bed as per alejandro's reprimands. he had listed reason after reason to not let you walk out nor even stand up to do anything in your room.

"you've just vomited all your food." he had said. "your stomach is empty. your source of energy is gone. get some rest, sampaguita. drink something."

you took to staring at the sunrise in the far corner of the room. the window was ajar, not even open all the way. you see the rays of light pass behind the curtain, pointing up to the walls & the ceiling.

there's wind somewhere outside, making the drapes fly up. bird were singing, faintly.

the door opens & alejandro brings in a tray full of food, water, medicine & a small basin, presumably for future instances of nausea.

despite the aches of your head, throat, chest & nose, you grin whe he sets it down, beckoning him closer to your seat at the bed.

"thank you," you're pensive for a while. then you take his hand & you give it a small peck.

"you don't need to thank me every time i do something, sampaga. it's alright."

"& are you gonna stop me?"

there it is, a face so joyous & radiant that it lights up like a full moon. the squinch of your nose, the arch of your eyelids, a golden dream of a person. alejandro could kiss you. he almost did.

but he did something better. he gave you the bowl of hot soup & a bottle of warm water. he helped you take the medicine when you finished your meal & he tucked you in when you felt drowsy.

he'll take care of you, he promises.

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 34: Zenie Uwenvsv Dayesi

Summary: Hadn’t she thought, back when Gene took her to the church to get the shrapnel out of her arm, that she had seen her sister? And hadn’t Gene, looking at photographs with her in a foxhole, acted strangely upon seeing the one of Marilyn? A/N: Sorry for missing last week's update! A lot of stuff was going on in my personal life, but I managed to pull through 💪🏽 But honestly, this worked out better anyway. Today marks one year since I posted the first chapter of this fic 🥳 A massive thank you to everyone who has read it, and an even bigger thank you to the friends who encouraged me to share it 🤗 Wado! The chapter title translates to "Zenie is going home." Which seems appropriate, considering where this fic started last year, and where today's chapter will take her Warnings: smoking, language, bad father figures Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @dcyllom @ithinkabouttzu @mads-weasley @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

North Carolina, 1945

Dust billows up in clouds along the road every time a vehicle passes, churning it up in their wake as they speed past. Zenie has gotten good about turning her head, holding her breath, covering her mouth, but the combination of dirt and diesel fumes mixing in the heat of the summer day cannot be escaped. Unless she were to accept a ride, that is, and that is not happening.

Zenie had made up her mind on the ship. The plan had been to go visit Mama and let her know that Zenie was okay before heading up to Clinchco. Wherever Shifty is, he can catch up. Zenie will just wait for him in North Carolina, and then he can come and whisk her away to their new life together. (She tells herself that, anyway, because repeating this over and over in her head was better than giving into full-blown panic in the middle of the ocean.)

She donned her uniform as the ship pulled into the harbor up north, and she’s been wearing it the whole journey down south. It just seemed safer. And so far, it has been. Because of it, people enthusiastically shake her hand, thank her for her service, and offer her rides – something they definitely wouldn’t be inclined to do if they knew the truth.

The walk gives her time to think, but that only seems to lead to worry. About Shifty, about what will happen when she gets home, about her friends and the rest of the war.

Distracting herself becomes easier the closer she gets to home. As the landscape begins rolling out in waves of mountains before her, blue and shining in the summer sun, she tries to recall every story that Granny ever told her. The story about the mountains was always one of her favorites; they were formed from the buzzard’s wing touching the first drops of wet mud used in creating the surface of the earth, the indentions left by his feathers making the mountains and valleys. She’ll have to remember that one when her friends come to visit. They know why the mountains are blue – they should know how the mountains got here in the first place.

In the evening, the humidity grows oppressive, and the mountains are stained deep blue and made hazy as the day’s end stretches out. It’s still hot when Zenie reaches her house, though the sun is starting to set already. Sweat trickles down her neck and onto her uniform collar as she makes her way up the hill, finds a hiding place amongst the tree line, and waits.

Heat lightning flashes distant over the western mountain tops. As usual, the heat of the day is forcing the clouds to gather, but no one can ever be sure if a storm will hit or not. Sometimes they just dissipate, fizzle out, with nothing more than some ominous gray streaks in the night sky that obscure the stars.

The lights spilling out the kitchen window illuminate the inside of the house, though it’s not very dark outside. Zenie can make out multiple people milling about the kitchen, though she’s too far away to tell who they are. If Shifty were here, he could probably describe each one of them in perfect detail. After all, he was the one who spotted a tank disguised as a tree from a mile away.

Her heart tightens at the thought of him. They should be doing this together – walking up to the house arm in arm, he in his uniform, and she in her wedding dress to announce the happy news. Instead, she’s back in her own disguise, and just as alone as the day she left this place.

There’s no sense delaying any longer. Zenie straightens her uniform, grabs her bag, and sets off down the road.

She sneaks around the side of the house. She doesn’t know who’s in the kitchen. But they looked busy. Maybe she can just slip in through the back door, up the stairs to her old room, and stay there.

Mercifully, the door does not creak when Zenie twists the knob and slowly, slowly, begins to push it open. She doesn’t open it very far, opting instead to slip through the crack like a mouse stealing away into its hidey hole. It shuts quietly behind her, too. She’s turning back around and is about to take the first step when she’s forced to stop short.

Her mother stands before her, frozen, eyes and mouth wide.

They stare at each other for a minute in disbelief. The only sounds are those coming out of the kitchen, chatter and the clanging of silverware as the table is set.

“Zena?” Mama finally asks.  

“Mama!” The word isn’t even fully out of her mouth before she’s rushing forward, into her mother’s arms, which are open and waiting. She buries her face in Mama’s shoulder, like she’s a little girl again. She isn’t sure what to say. “I’m home.”

Mama lets out a wet sounding gasp that could either be a sob or a laugh. She breaks the embrace only to cup Zenie’s cheeks in her palms, holding her face, getting a look at her in her uniform. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Mama, do you know where the – “ Footsteps stop abruptly as Matthew and his sentence both come to a halt. Mama steps aside, allowing Zenie to see her brother for the first time in years. Except the version of her brother that stands before her is slack jawed and has eyes as wide as saucers; this isn’t the cool and confident Matthew who never lost his footing. Her brother looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Zenie stands tall in her uniform. Her brother was in the Air Corps; he’ll know the importance of the jump wings proudly displayed on her chest. “Well, are we just going to stand here, or are you going to give me a hug?”

The answer is that they hug. They’re quick to close the distance between them, but Zenie still notices that Matthew limps as he comes towards her – the product of his accident with the plane the year before. Their father also limps. Matthew has always been so determined to be nothing like him, but now there’s something more that links them.

There’s no time to think about that, though, because Marilyn appears from the kitchen to see what all the fuss is about, and Danny follows when he hears her cry out in surprise. In the back room of the house, there are many hugs and exclamations of joy and surprise. For the first time in a very long time, the house is full of a noise that is happy. If they could stay in this moment forever, they could pretend that they’re a normal family living normal lives.

But nothing about their circumstances is normal.

Her family ushers Zenie into the kitchen like a celebrity, like a prince. She takes a seat at the table, and Marilyn – her sister, of all people! – fixes a plate for her. Everyone is smiling, glancing at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she has to say for herself. Everyone, that is, except her father, who looks surprised, but scowls, forgotten as everyone’s attention focuses on the wayward child and her unexpected return.

“I got your postcard when I got back to the states,” Marilyn says as she places a cornbread muffin on the plate she’s fixing for Zenie. “Scared the shit out of me! I was worried that maybe you were one of the soldiers at Bastogne.”

“I was.”

“What?! We must have just missed each other, then, because I left the church the day before it got blown up.”

Blown up? Zenie’s hand stills halfway as she reaches for the jar of apple butter in the center of the table. She retracts it, staring at her sister. Hadn’t she thought, back when Gene took her to the church to get the shrapnel out of her arm, that she had seen her sister? And hadn’t Gene, looking at photographs with her in a foxhole, acted strangely upon seeing the one of Marilyn? He must have assumed that her sister had died. And he didn’t tell her.

Probably for the best, part of Zenie reasons, after realizing that she’s not mad at the medic. She was so bad off after Bill and Joe got hit, that thinking she had lost her sister might have destroyed her. When she writes to her friends to tell them she made it home, she’ll make sure to tell Gene that Marilyn is okay.

Mama passes Zenie a glass of sweet tea. “You were in Bastogne? That was during Christmas, wasn’t it?”

“Say, how’d you get a Purple Heart?” Danny interjects. “And – sorry for asking, but someone’s got to clarify – were you disguised as a man the whole time?”

Considering that he’s Bobby’s brother, something about Danny’s question makes Zenie laugh. She takes a sip of her tea to wet her throat, and then, she tells her family her epic tale. The basics, at least. Where she’s been, what she’s done. No one interrupts her when she talks, except to ask a question or two for clarification whenever she pauses to drink some of her tea. They stare at her in shock and awe while she goes on, for quite some time, about the past three years of her life. She’s never been the subject of such rapt attention. Maybe it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want it to end. Except that she has to, because she leaves out the part about her elopement with Shifty – something about her marriage feels like an ace up her sleeve, a card that she won’t play until she has to, to get out of here, just like they planned all the way back in France.

When she’s done, they all stare at her. It takes a moment for them to realize that she’s not going to continue, or maybe for them to process all that they’ve just heard. It’s Matthew who breaks the silence, leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

“Zenie,” he breathes. “Good Lord!” Something tugs at his lips, and the next thing she knows, her older brother is smiling at her. “That’s incredible.”

“What an adventure,” Marilyn adds. “I . . . don’t know what to say, really.”

“Wow,” Danny supplies.

For the first time since her arrival, her father speaks. It startles her to realize that he’s still there, that he’s been a part of this moment, which until now, has been pleasant.

“Well, Zena, I hope it was worth it.” He won’t look at her when he speaks. His voice is hollow and cold. “That’s enough adventure for a lifetime, I think.” His eyes flick from his plate to her, only looking at her for a split second. “You won’t be leaving here again.”

She had a feeling it would come to this, but her stomach still ties itself into a knot the moment that she hears his words. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to figure out her next move.

Matthew intervenes. “The fuck does that mean?”

Their father finally looks up from his plate, for good this time, now that his eyes are wide with shock. His mouth is a hard line. He doesn’t scold Matthew for his language the way he would have when they were teenagers. Something tells Zenie that she’s missed something, that they’ve had that fight before, and that her father isn’t keen on having a rematch.

“There are consequences to actions,” he explains. Now he turns to Zenie. “You’ve seen enough of the world.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“Well I certainly can’t let you out there! How can I explain it – huh? My daughter up and disappears, then returns with short hair and stories about how she fought in the war. You’d make me look like a fool. You’d make all of us look like fools.”

“And what about me?” Zenie asks. “It’s my life. It’s my reputation.”

Her father jabs the tabletop with his pointer finger, punctuating his point. “It’s the family’s reputation. Clearly you didn’t think about that when you went through all this trouble to run away.”

Mama reaches across the table, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “She can’t just stay in here. Surely, she’ll want to see her friends, or go back to the diner.”

“Not now. Not until her hair has grown back. Maybe then we can claim she was in the WAC, or a nurse, like her sister.”

“I was a soldier,” Zenie interrupts. She straightens her spine, imagines her jump wings gleaming proudly from her chest.

Her father grimaces, scrubs a hand across his face. “You’re a disappointment, talking like that.”

“Dad!” Marilyn gasps.

It’s all Zenie needs. “You can’t keep me in here. I’m an adult, and I’ll do as I please.”

“That’s some big talk, little girl.”

“I’ll leave again,” Zenie threatens.

“And go where? The war is over.”

She plays her ace – the only chance she has. “I’ll go up north and stay with my husband’s family until he comes back from Europe.”

A stunned silence follows. The only sound in the whole house is music from the radio that floats in from the other room.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She sits up straighter still. “I eloped, back in Europe. I’m waiting for my husband to come collect me, and then I’m gone.” She levels her gaze on her father, a sniper catching him in the crosshairs, about to administer the perfect shot. “For good.”

His lips are pressed so tightly together that the skin around them is a deathly white. The room grows more silent still. Her father cannot seem to process this information, and everyone seems to be waiting to see how he will react before they let their own feelings show.

Zenie doesn’t wait. She’s done waiting for people. A squawking sound echoes through the room as she pushes back her chair and heads for the door.

I could leave right now, she thinks. But she doesn’t. She won’t – not yet. Instead, she heads for the fence at the edge of the field, where she met with Bobby for the last time before running away. She leans against it, watching the last of the evening light fade as the soft glow of the moon and the stars begin to appear, offering the world a different, softer illumination. In her hands, another soft glow appears as Zenie lights a cigarette.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” A voice behind her makes her jump. But it’s just Matthew, walking over to join her. His new limp slows him down, but it doesn’t make his gait any less confident, his stature any less tall. When he gets to the fence, he leans against it, pulling out his own carton of cigarettes. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

They stand in silence for a moment, neither sure what to say. Zenie finally breaks it, trying to make a start. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

Matthew smiles around his cigarette. “Shit, kiddo. You, too.” His smile grows, and is it Zenie’s imagination, or does the former high school heartbreaker beside her look almost bashful? “Alice is . . . She’s great. Love of my life, if you can believe that.”

“Where is she?”

Matthew is still looking down at the cigarette between his fingers, and his distant smile tells Zenie that even though his new spouse isn’t here physically, she’s very much present in Matthew’s mind and heart. “Back home, in Wilmington. She, uh, didn’t wanna travel out here, with the new baby, and all.”

“A baby?” Zenie nudges her brother’s shoulder with her own. “Well, congratulations again!”

“Little girl,” Matthew confesses, voice soft with love. He flicks ashes from the end of his cigarette, a darkness passing over his features. Somberness pulls at the corners of his mouth, weighing them down. “We named her Zena. Zena Sophia, after you and my birth mother.” He looks up at her then, for the first time since they began talking. His voice is quiet when he admits, “I thought we lost you, Zee.”

“Oh, Matthew.”

Thank God for the cover of darkness, because even though there’s no one else around, the siblings fall into each other’s arms, and despite Zenie’s best efforts, she feels warmth trickling down her cheeks as her tears escape her. Matthew must be experiencing the same thing, because his shoulders jog as he tries to catch his breath.

He breaks their embrace, running a hand under his eyes to collect his tears. “Sorry. Good God.” He draws a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” she assures him. Then, trying to lighten the mood, “I bet you’re a great dad.”

Matthew shrugs. “I try to be. I try not to be like . . .” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. They both automatically glance back at their house.

 “He’s not your father, Matthew. You’re nothing like him.”

“Neither are you, Zenie.”

She blinks. Perhaps he’s right; none of them are anything like him. At least, not that they’re aware of. Right then and there, with her brother’s confidence to guide her, Zenie makes a pledge to herself that she will never be the kind of spouse that her father has been to her mother. Like Shifty said, they have a system for shared work. She will not let their marriage fall into disrepair and misery.

Zena Sophia. Herself, the runaway little sister, and Sophia, Matthew’s late biological mother. Two women who he cared about and lost. The baby is like a living memorial, taking on their names and putting life into them once more. It feels silly to admit now, that Zenie would never have guessed before that she meant that much to her brother.

 “Are you mad?” Zenie asks suddenly, thinking about the baby’s other namesake.

A steady stream of smoke escapes Matthew’s lips before he answers. “Mad? About what?”

“I’ve always heard Granpa and Granma say that they sent you out West to live with us when your parents died because they felt they were too old to properly raise you . . . Don’t you wish they had, so that he wouldn’t have been your father?”

“No,” Matthew answers immediately. He shakes his head as he repeats it. “No. I’m not mad I was sent here. Grateful for it, actually.” He taps ashes from the end of his cigarette again, then looks her straight in the eye. “Because if I hadn’t been sent here, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to be your brother.” He claps her on the shoulder. And then, without further comment, takes a step back toward the house.

That’s enough emotions for tonight, Zenie supposes. Part of her heart feels light with love, knowing that she’s seen her mother again, her siblings, seeing the proof that they cared for her all along. Heaviness fills the other part of it, guilty for ever thinking that she didn’t matter to anyone, and sad at the thought of leaving them again so soon.

“Matthew,” she says, taking quick steps to catch up with him. “Before we leave, give me your new address. I don’t want to lose touch again.”

Matthew’s smile returns, and he slings an arm around her as they continue their walk back to the house. “Of course, usdi agido’i.”

Of course, little sister.

[artist-emerald]

A Country Western Proposition (OC x Canon fic)

It was just another day in Trollstopia for Holly Darlin. Sun was shining, critters were making noise, and all her friends were out doing their thing. Yet she couldn’t help but feel uneasy and worried. She was feeling this way because when she woke up that morning, her boyfriend, Emerald Waters, wasn’t anywhere to be found. He had left a note stating, “Good morning, my star. Had to run some errands, but I will be back later.” Now, Holly knew he was a Troll of his word, but she couldn’t help but get un easy feeling.

It had been several months since they got back together, and while Emerald had gotten used to living in Trollstopia, making friends and music, there were still some hiccups every now and then. Sometimes he’d get lost trying to get someplace, or accidentally bump into an angry critter. Holly couldn’t help but worry. She went around asking if anyone had seem him recently, and something strange had been brought to light.

Poppy: “Now that you mention it Holly, a lot of the guys seem to be missing today. For starters, I haven’t seen Branch or Guy Diamond anywhere!”

Val: “Ditto. Haven’t seen or heard from Demo today.”

Laguna: “That’s a negative on any Synth sightings today as well.”

Minuet: “Same for Dante!”

R&B: “Even Lownote Jones is missing!”

Holly: “Well dang ya’ll! You don’t think something happened to them do you!?”

Poppy: “What, no way! They all left notes.”

Holly: “Oh.”

Val: “Maybe they’re having a guys’ hangout.”

Holly: “Emerald woulda’ told me. He tells me everything.”

Holly’s ear began to droop as she lightly kicked the dirt under her hooves. Poppy put a hand on Holly’s shoulder to reassure her.

Poppy: “Holly, would Emerald tell you really tell you everything? What if it was a fun surprise he was trying to hide?”

The other girls nodded and agreed with Poppy.

Holly: “Well, that is true. Buuuut, Emerald isn’t great at making surprises.”

Smidge: “Unless the other guys were helping him.”

Holly perked right back up.

Holly: “Y’know what girls? You’re right! I shouldn’t be getting’ all worked up over what Emerald’s doin’. Even if I am curious. Well, later ya’ll!”

Holly’s friends waved her goodbye as she ran off to do other things. When she finally left their line of sight, they all breathed a large sigh of relief.

Val: “Poppy! You almost gave it away!”

Poppy: “I know, I’m sorry! She just looked so down!”

Laguna: “We’re still on course for a mission success as long as Holly doesn’t find out about the surprise.”

Minuet: “What was the surprise again?”

Smidge: “Emerald never said. Only that, it was the most important thing he’s ever had to do in his entire life. Who knows what that could be!?”

Poppy’s sister, Viva, walked by ever so casually; clearly eavesdropping on the conversation.

Viva: “It sounds like he’s going to propose.”

Viva then ran off giggling, leaving the girl group awestruck and gasping at the realization.

Meanwhile, in Branch’s bunker, the guys were all pitching ideas to Emerald Waters about his marriage proposal to Holly.

Emerald: “I wanted to thank ya’ll again for helping me out with this. I’m burnt cookie awful at surprises, and I really want to wow Holly. You really are the absolute best friends a Parody Troll could ask for.”

Guy Daimond: “Of course! We are here for you and Holly! You two make such an exquisite couple!”

Dante: “Oh, it’s going to be absolutely splendid! But, I must ask, are you sure you aren’t rushing into your relationship with Holly?”

Lownote Jones: “No disrespect, baby, but you two have only been dating for a few months. Maybe over a year if you want to count the first time you two were together.”

The other guys stopped what they were doing and looked at each other, then back to Emerald.

Emerald: “Oh, well that’s just how Country Troll relationships tend to go. Being raised brought up knowing that every waking minute is precious, that life can change at the drop of a hat, and has the potential to end at any moment; we tend to get married when we can.

Synth: “Man, I forget about the bleaker side of the Country Western Trolls. Sorry if those questions seemed ignorant.”

Emerald: “That’s quite alright, ya’ll. Now, I’ve been going through all ya’ll’s ideas, and I just don’t feel as if they’ll be good enough.”

Demo: “Hey man, I’m sure whatever you do for her will be good enough. She is your girlfriend after all, isn’t she?”

Branch: “He’s right. And if none of the other ideas look good, why not try a good old fashioned song proposal?”

Emerald: “A song?”

Synth: “Yeah, that would be so dope yo! You managed to write a parody with techno, you’d be able to write her a proposal song with ba-na-na-na-na ease!”

Emerald: “I can’t write a proposal parody song! My music is full of satire and good natured humor, there aint’ nothing serious about it.”

The other Trolls exchanged glances around the room.

Lownote Jones: “What if it wasn’t a parody song? What if it was a country song? You know, dip back into your roots to show her how much she means to you.”

Dante: “Oh, excellent idea Lownote! Well, Emerald, what do you say?”

Emerald looked at all their faces, each with a reassuring smile. He reached up into his hat and pulled out an old country guitar.

Emerald: “Gentleman, I think we got ourselves a proposal.”

The group cheered as they got to work.

Hours passed and the sun was setting. Word had gotten around that the boys will be doing a surprise performance at the Pop Village stage. Holly Darlin was the first one there, and to her surprise, there was a cushioned very important Troll seat with her name on it, front and center. Poppy and Holly’s other friends arrived shortly after, all taking seats around Holly, brimming with excitement.

Holly: “Howdy girls! I never thought they’d be putting on a surprise show!”

Poppy: “I know right? These guys sure are something else, huh?”

The other girls gave quick glances at Poppy, as if to tell her not to ruin the surprise.

Holly: “Oh I’m just giddy thinking about it! Emerald was even sweet enough to make this little VIT seat for me! Ain’t he just a sugar cube wrapped in caramel?”

The lights on the stage lit up, and the curtains parted. Emerald Waters was standing center stage with his friends around him, all with different instruments. All the Trolls cheered in excitement, but Emerald could only hear Holly’s as he saw her in the front row.

Emerald: “Evenin’ ya’ll! Tonight is a very special night because I have a song here that I would like to dedicate to the sweetest, kindest, and most important Troll to me on this big ol’ world of ours. Holly Darlin, this one’s for you!”

[writer’s not, they’re playing “Amazed” by Lonestar]

As they began to play, the lyrics leaving Emerald’s mouth, Holly cupped her hands over her mouth. She had realized what was going on, and she started getting overwhelmed with emotion. Her legs began to fidget in place, her eyes welled up, she hung off his every word, and she never stopped staring at him. All the other Trolls were feeling the love that Emerald put into his words. Holly’s friends kept their eyes on her to make sure she doesn’t pass out from over excitement.

As the song ended, the crowd cheered, and Holly kept trying to fight back her tears of joy, to no avail. She kept wiping away each tear as it rolled down her face. She slowly approached the stage as Emerald approached the crowd. He knelt on one of his front legs, extending out his hand to pull Holly up on stage. After she was pulled up on stage, she grabbed Emerald by his overall straps and pulled him into a kiss and tight hug.

Emerald: “Holly Darlin, would you be so kind as to make me the happiest Troll in the world by marryin’ me?”

Holly: “Yes! Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and high fives. The couple held each other in a tight and loving embrace.

In a few weeks’ time, they would be married.

[eilinelsghost]

An excerpt from Grief in All Her Guises

Part 2 of the Atandil Series

Finrod laughed and lay back in the grass. “Ela!” he breathed as he looked up at the night sky and beckoned for Balan to join him. “Do you see him there?” he drew a pattern in the stars above them as Balan moved to lie beside him. “Menelmacar, the Swordsman of the Sky.”

“No, where are you pointing?”

“There.” He shifted so his line of sight was closer to Balan’s. “There are three stars a hand’s width over the tree-line, brighter than their sisters about them. Do you see?”

“I believe so.” Balan tried to focus as his mind still worked to grasp what he had experienced.

“Those are his belt. Now follow the furthest upwards and you’ll find his blade raised in charge.”

“Yes, I see it.”

“Then cross here and the curve of his shield wards the skies.”

“Mendelcar?”

“Menelmacar,” he corrected, “heaven’s warrior.” The finger moved further along the sky, itself luminous where it caught the moonlight, and Balan felt again the unsettling presence of a second thought within his own as the image of a dim huddle of stars rose ahead of the finger’s path to illumine what Finrod outlined. “This is Itseloktë.”

“Itselot—Itseloktë.” He turned the word over on his tongue and added it to the list of recitations. “Itseloktë. What does it mean?”

“It…how would you say it in your tongue…insects, perhaps? Gnats? Nay, flies would be nearer, I deem. The fly cluster.” He glanced over at Balan with a grin as the adan snorted despite himself. “Our Sindarin kin name it better. Remmirath they call it, the Netted Stars: a mesh of those jewels that alone are fit to crown the head of Tintallë.”

Balan recalled waking beside the embers and seeing the visions flowing out from Nóm’s song: among them was a woman measurelessly tall, strong beyond reckoning, wrapped in a mantle of twilit blue that reached beyond the horizon, that was the horizon. Light spilled out from her and he closed his eyes against the brilliance of the memory.

“Varda Elentári, our Lady of Light, who wove the stars into their celestial dance and set their steps in a sign of doom. Anarríma, Soronúmë, Telumendil, Wilwarin…”

“Butterfly.” Balan reflexively named the translation under his breath and Finrod laughed.

“Yes, the evening’s butterfly.” He pointed to a distant stretch of sky. “There he flits above the mountains: a wing here, another just there.”

“I see it.” Balan raised his hand toward the patterned stars and his finger rested lightly against the other’s. He lingered as long as he dared, then shifted their hands together toward the north. “And what of this one?” he asked as he dropped his arm back onto the grass. “Have you a name for it?”

“We do.”

“I’ve been drawn to it as long as I can remember, ever since I was a boy,” Balan continued as the other did not elaborate. “Some nights when I can’t sleep I’ll sit outside and follow it through the sky. It steadies me, I know not how.”

“It is the Valacirca,” Finrod said after a long silence, his voice quiet, “the Sickle of the Valar. It was set there in the heavens ere your people or mine awakened, as a sign of that truth which we hold in estel: it is Light that shall endure, not Darkness.” He turned his face toward the other and studied Balan’s profile outlined against the tangle of stars. “And I confess, my friend, it gladdens my heart to find this is shared between us as well: many of those nights when you watched its path, we would have kept vigil together. Ever have I looked to those same stars in times of despair to recall that all works of the Dark are for naught. That they will, as was said at the first Music, be but an instrument of things yet more wonderful than those it sought to destroy.”

“And that comforts you?”

“It does—to know we are creatures of the One who is Goodness, and from whose works must ultimately come joy, if not happiness. Lost on the ice before the sun’s first rising, when I came nearest to forsaking hope, even then I looked up through the bitter cold and behold! I saw the Seven Stars rise triumphant in the north, crowning the work of Eru to which Morgoth Bauglir shall never lay full claim, and over which he shall never triumph. In that hour I knew, as I answer you now,” he returned his finger briefly to Balan’s forehead in reminder of the question he addressed, “we are not abandoned.”

Read the full work on AO3

[ejaydoeshisbest]

I left my grandmother by herself at Jollibee.

For the past three to four nights, I could not sleep well. I thought at first it was just the cold. It's always cold in the Philippines from December to January. Sometimes until late February. But yesterday, it felt like I wanted to drop on the floor before the sun had even set. I couldn't regulate my emotions well by late afternoon. I thought that by sleeping early, say 8PM, I could wake up at 4 AM or 5 AM. But nope, I'm waking up to little sleep. Woke up at 2:45 AM. Maybe it isn’t the cold, but the jitters that I know that I should be working diligently by now? My good side, my mind, is shutting down my lazy bones and telling my system to work because I needed to pay back my aunties when they sent me for my medical treatments. Even though my aunts told me that I don't owe them any debt. My mind is also reminding me that my own parents are old but still working. "What’s your excuse?" it says to me. It reminds me that all my friends and most of my cousins are working and sacrificing and building their own futures and making their dreams happen while I remain useless. It hurts, too, that I can't reach out and talk to them about my problems because that would be a dick move. It reminds me that as each day passes, all of them are moving to brighter, greener places while I remain stuck. It would be nice if I could just fix my life with the sudden thought that made me finally jump out of bed: “Well, what if you did your best, Ejay? You haven't actually given it your all. Work without complaints. Only feel gratitude.” It would be nice if all that needed to be done was to think, always, that if my old parents can do it, that if my own younger sister can function and achieve high grades in Physics and Maths with little sleep, so too can I. Even with breathing struggles.

___

The morning started out fine, but then rapidly fell. I must have overexerted myself. I was walking around the neighborhood, trying to achieve consistency. I was thinking that I really needed to get stronger, and I was proud of myself for completing my route. I thought actually that it was getting easier. But then Lola and I planned to go to Jollibee for breakfast and I thought, yes, a fun adventure. That would be nice. But when we were in the senior citizen's line, I suddenly could not breathe again. It was like my chest was being crushed by an elephant. I was trying to calm myself, but every breath constricted my throat and I felt that I wasn’t getting enough air. I was panicking because I left my inhaler at home, though before this point, I was convincing myself that my breathing struggles were just because of anxiety. I had to leave my grandmother at the cashier to go out and breathe and calm myself down. I had to convince myself that I was not in any real danger and that my mind was making me believe in my worst fear. I calmed myself down enough to go back. But as soon as I sat down with my grandmother, my fears gripped me again and I was sure that this was not anxiety, but asthma. It felt like I was breathing through a straw. It felt like that first time when I went to the emergency room. Maybe I overexerted myself again, just like last time. I really tried to stay with my grandmother and have breakfast with her, but without my inhaler near me to convince me I was fine, my mind freaked out and I could not reign it in. I was wrestling with the suffocating fear. I wasn’t sure if my breathing was because I was having an anxiety attack or an asthma attack. Each breath was painful, and I tried focusing on the people, but now my mind was screaming at me to go either to the emergency room or back to the house. Fearing the payment for an emergency room in Angono, Rizal, I special-fared my ass back home. I miss my aunties. When they were with me, I felt calm. We would go near stores and have a great time. I told my grandmother to stay put as I went home to grab my medicines. I told her to wait for me. When I arrived, I took one puff of the inhaler and called my aunties to tell them where I left Lola. I apologized to them for being an unreliable weak caretaker. Thankfully, a relative picked her up from where I left her and took her home safely.

___

After, I took a shower and a nap. When I woke up, I could breathe better. Which further confuses me as to whether this was asthma or anxiety. Or asthma-induced anxiety. Maybe I should really stop listening to my anxiety and proactively calm it down. I realized that maybe I could have kept my cool and let it flow through me if I did not listen to its threats. I know that it is hard to do, since my body immediately goes to this fight-or-flight response. Even now as I stand under my grandmother's tin roof, I am terrified that I might collapse because maybe I could not stand the afternoon heat. As I am typing this and recounting many less-than-ideal moments, I already feel anxious. So I know that I have to face my fears head-on because if not, I'm afraid that almost everything would be a trigger: Our furbaby, the heat, the cold, people, etc. I need to counter this. I wish I could fall back to the mindset and body I had in college. Strong. Independent. Brave. Curious. I don't want my anxiety to ruin the rest of my life. I don't want to waste it. I want to taste sugar and other foods again. I want to travel.

___

Auntie C and I shared a similar insight: I need to identify the root cause of all my stress and anxiety. I think it's primarily because I still lack a job coupled with my old age. I wish I could just switch my mindset from fearing things to believing that life is such a fun adventure. Not overthinking and managing daily stressors. Maybe I believe that I am in a bad place, like a cornered animal, instead of believing that I can change my future and have my life back. I must learn how to rebuild myself.

___

That night, some of the relatives from my mother's side came to our house. I saw my siblings again, and my mother's sister. An aunt I was not particularly fond of. I'll call her Tita L. But even though I wasn't fond of her, I apologized for my rude behavior. I snubbed her at our last encounter. I told her that I was angry at almost everyone back then. Which was partly true. I couldn't very well say that I hated my mother's side of the family because they bullied me since childhood and made me feel like I was at fault for not adjusting. Yes, I am sensitive, but they're also rowdy as hell. We hugged and she told me it was all right.

But the best part of it all was, I suddenly found that I could finally breathe. Like a miracle. I was taking quick breaths, sure, but my throat wasn't as constricted as before. I would like to say that perhaps social interaction was all it took and that this was all just a made-up thing in my mind after all, but I wasn't sure. It happened when I started to feel the familiar start of anxiety as I saw all these people running around and talking inside our house, but then I SQUASHED IT DOWN HARD and focused on the people around me, thinking adamantly that I WILL NOT HAVE A PANIC ATTACK OR BE ANXIOUS IN FRONT OF THEM. Then, just like that, I didn’t. Hopefully, this trick will work in the future.

Apologized din to my sister, repeating all the words I said to my parents. I am sorry that I haven’t contributed as much to the family, and sorry that I haven’t contributed to her tuition. Sorry for bickering and fighting. And I am so, so proud of her that she has high grades and that she deserved it. She didn’t get as much sleep and watch entertainment for that. I told her that her best friend, who has been such a good influence on her, is always welcome at our house.

[imperfect-scrawls]

Muddy Footprints

            It had been an exhausting day dealing with problem after problem. After waking up late, I rushed to work only to be met with more and more issues. I forgot a file I needed to complete a project. The coffee pot broke in my hands as I was pouring myself a cup. My computer completely shut down and started smoking while I was working on finalizing a three-month long presentation. Things could not have been worse. To top it off, it started to pour half an hour before I got off work, and I just knew that the rest of the night would be miserable.

            That feeling only increased as I sprinted to my car after clocking out. There are times in your life where you gut just tells you something is wrong. Your stomach starts to feel strange, like its filled with bottled lightning or rabid squirrels crawling around trying to escape. Something just feels wrong. That feeling just intensified as I climbed into my car and shut the door. I didn’t know what was coming, but the unease kept creeping along my skin as I stared at the blackened sky. As lighting flashed in the distance, I felt a chill run up my spine.

            There was no use trying to plan for it now. I just needed to keep an eye out and be very careful driving home. The last thing I needed was to end up rolled over on the side of the road in the middle of the storm. The sun was starting to set as I pulled out of the parking lot, and I prepared for a slow trip back home. Twenty minutes had never seemed so long, but the rain had slowed to a slight sprinkle by the time I managed to pull into my driveway. Unease still hung over me like a cloud, and I just wanted to walk inside, lock all my doors, and sit with my lights on, a cup of tea, and a blanket nest in my living room. All that changed when I stepped out of my car.

            You hear stories about shock and fear. How some people freeze in place and other scream or run. They tell you how the blood drains from your face and you feel like you’ve been dropped into ice water. I’ve never experienced anything in my life that can compare to how it felt when I noticed the muddy footprints leading into my house.

            I think I stood and stared at the footprints for a long while. Nothing else looked different about my house. No broken windows, not scratches on the door or broken handles, but the footsteps ended at my door. and they showed no signs of leaving. Someone had gone into my home. Someone could still be in my home, and that thought finally allowed me to move.

            I stumbled back to my car and locked the doors. I scrambled to find my phone and dialed the police.

“911 what is your emergency?” the dispatcher said.

“There is someone in my house.” I whispered. I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted it to all be a bad dream, and if I had said it any louder, I would be forced to face it.

“Can you tell me where you are? Are you in the house? What happened?” the dispatcher had asked.

I once again whispered, “I’m not in my house. I just got home, but there are footprints leading to my door. I’m still sitting in my car.”

“Alright. I’m going to have you drive to a safe location and I’m going to have someone come out and look around for you,” they had said in a comforting voice. “Just stay on the line, and we’ll get everything figured out.”

I can remember sitting on that line for hours. I remember being asked to drive back home. I remember the officers telling me they didn’t find anything or anyone in my home, and that there were no footprints or mud inside my house. I remember grabbing clothes out of my closet while they were still there and going to stay at my sister’s house for a week. Then at a hotel for another. I remember finally working up the courage to go back home after the two weeks had passed. I remember my house looking the same as it always did. I can still clearly remember setting my bag on a hook in the front hallway and taking my shoes off. I remember walking into the kitchen to start making food, but the thing that I will never forget is the note I found on my kitchen table.

No one should have been in my house for the entire two weeks that I was gone. No one else even has keys. However, I read the words that will still send a shutter through my body:

Welcome back. Why haven’t you been home in a while? I missed seeing you…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Tempestuous

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, object insertion, some violence and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king and his court visit Storm’s End, bringing chaos with them.

Characters: Jaime Lannister

Note: Why did I right this? idk. 

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like a hobbit love second breakfast. Take care. 💖

"The king has come home to Storm's End," Delia says as you pull down a stiff sheet from the line, stale from hours in the rare summer sun of the otherwise overcast city, "you shoulda come see. Oh, but he is a rather large man."

"Did he have his hammer, then?" You taunt as you take down another linen sheet, "the one he cracked the old prince's skull with?"

"Don't say that," she hisses with a frantic wave, "it is not only the king who's visiting. He brought half his court and them ears as well."

"Is it treasonous to wonder? To speak of the past?" You frown and drop the swathe of cotton into the basket, "Deli, why d'you even care about the king? He's not come to see buncha shepherd's daughters."

"What else is there to care about?" She sighs as you lift the wicker basket between you, made heavy by the lengths of fabric, "his wife, oh, she's so beautiful. Definitely a Lannister, golden and shiny."

"Don't let pa hear all that," you warn, "you know how he is."

"Must be where you get it from," she sticks her tongue out, "can't never be happy about anything."

"I'm happy. Happy for a roof and a plate," you shrug, "happy for my family and the hens. What happiness can I spare for fancies and dreams?"

"What's so wrong with dreamin'?" She pouts. 

"Nothin', so long you're content with disappointment."

"There's to be a tourney," she declares gaily as you come in site of your father's house.

"In this season?" You glance up at the yellow sky, fluffy clouds certain to turn grey.

"Ugh, you must see the worst in even the best. We may never see the knights and ladies again in Storm's End."

"The Lord Paramount frequents often enough. Is he not noble enough for your tastes?"

"That isn't my meaning," she bemoans, "I blame this rainy land for your similar tiding."

"Do you think father would let you sneak into the pits and watch?"

"Why, do you think to sneak with me?" She brightens.

"Hm, perhaps I might be in the mood to see a rabble," you sigh as you pass through the low gate, sheep chewing lazily at the long grass, "but you should be more concerned if pa would let us."

"Pa loves the king," she huffs, "so why wouldn't he?"

"I hear things of the king's friend he mightn't be so fond of," you turn your hand up, "but I cannot say if they are more than rumours. If father allows it, I will go, if only to keep you in hand."

"Claim whatever you like," she chimes, "but I can see you are as curious as I to see the knights."

You grumble and give her no further words. There is more to worry about than jousts or showy combat, the event will be no more than a speck in the dull eye of any peasant.

⚔️

Your father mulls his decision despite Delia's impatience. Your mother leaves it to him, offering no word against or for, but you see the concern in her eye. Delia has always been careless and bit impulsive.

Your shared straw mattress is restless as your sister tosses and turns, babbling about how she might convince your father. Despite your pleas that she sleep and not worry so much, she does not cease. Each time you are close to dozing, she grabs your arms and wakes you for another ramble.

"Del," you sit up and shake her off at last, "whatever father decides, no amount of shearing or sweeping will matter to him. It is on his shoulders now, let it rest there... and let me sleep!"

"Oh, but I cannot stop thinking and imagining it all. What if I was to meet a knight and he were to see me and--"

"Rats, Delia, rats! You drive me mad!" You push yourself to your knees and groan as you get your feet under you and stand, "I would rather sleep on the silt."

"You don't think it could happen?" She bats her lashes.

"Tell me, sister, which knight would fall so fervently for a sheep's minder? Hmm? If that is the reason you seek permission, I will not be your comfort when it does not happen. You've cost me enough sleep as it were."

"Oh, you always were so dire," she falls back and drapes her arm over her face, "fine, go sleep with the sheep. See if I care."

You roll your eyes but let her to her wallowing, alone. You hardly think it'll keep her from chattering as you've caught her more than once at a dialogue with herself. You descend from the loft over the common space of your fathers house and tiptoe in the dark. You take your mother's heavy shawl from the hook by the door and shove your feet into a pair of leather clogs.

Restless, you know sleep is lost to you for some time, if not entirely. You curse your sister as you emerge into the damp residue of the evening's storm. You hear the waters off the coast, loudly ebbing and flowing, but not stirred by malice. The sea is as calm as it ever is in Storm's End.

You pass the pen and let yourself out the gate. The moon gleams over the water, reflection swirling in the mist. You follow the winding path down the hillside, soles gritting across the rocky shore. A chill stirs the tails of your sleeping shift and you hug the shawl closer as you look out at the water.

You find a place in the stony sand, just beyond the reach of the waves, and watch the sea. It is eerie to be there alone but peaceful. You take a handful of dirt and let it go, watching it cascade back over the ground. You stare up at the silver face off the moon and think.

How can Delia act as if all has changed and yet nothing has? The king and his men can hardly change the order of things, even with crown and title. No, every day is just as the one before and after. You can already hear your sister morning their departure and its insignificance.

You lay back in the sand as the noise of the water calms you. You close your eyes, knowing you should go back and sleep in the barn as Delia suggested. You don't, instead letting the night waft over you.

The sound doesn't disturb you at first. You think it's crabs or some creature scuttling, but then it grows louder, steady, heavy. You look over at the silhouette of a horse, it's rider glowing gold against the moon light.

You frown and stay flat to the ground. You watch with bated breath as he dismounts and lead the horse to the water. The salty foam is not fit to drink and the horse does not try. The man bends as he wiggles off his glove, dragging his fingers through the shallows.

You roll slowly, carefully, and lift yourself on hands and knees. You carefully begin to crawl towards the shadows of the hills. You hear the water and the sand, not daring to glance back at the soldier.

"You there," his deep voice carries over the coast, "halt."

You don't obey. Not at first. You go faster, hoping to evade him up the hillside where his horse can't go.

"In the name of the king, I said halt," he repeats.

That time, you must. Knowing he's a king's man, it would be next to treason to do otherwise. You hang your hand and sit back on your heels.

You turn as you hear his footfalls, his cape flapping in the wind as he nears. You watch with dread, knowing the gold silk can only mean one thing; king's guard. You can't wonder why he's there, more so detest that he is.

"My lord," you get to your feet and give a clumsy bow, "apologies, I was wandering--"

"Hiding," he stops and rests his hand on his pommel. He wears no armour, only tan leather to match the hue of his cloak, "and why's that?"

"No reason, lord, I did not mean to disturb so I was--"

"And if you are wandering," he interrupts, "why here? Where do you hale from? Some brothel or street corner?"

"N-no," you say stunned, "no, Ser, I am only sleepless."

He harrumphs and pushes his head back, "you peasants, so simple."

You swallow and stare at the high collar of his jacket. He's agitated as he shakes out his hand, only to once more grip his sword.

"I don't know how my brother finds you all so endearing," he mutters, his golden locks catching the moonlight as his square jaw is cast in shadow, "suppose it's more about what they give him for his coin."

"Ser, I am not a--"

"Course you aren't," he dismisses with a flick of his fingers, "what man would pay for you? I dare say my brother may even turn his nose up."

You furrow your brow and dip your head, "my lord. May I go now?"

"Where?"

"Home?" You reply, perplexed.

"And where's home?"

"My father's. He's a shepherd," you point up but without clear direction. You know this man, of his reputation. There is no other king's guard of the same cut. Jaime Lannister, the king slayer.

"Back to your sheep," he scoffs, "perhaps that is who my brother is paying for his lusts while I await him like some servant."

You clamp your mouth shut and shrug.

"Certainly, you wouldn't know. What do you know?" He waves his hand and turns away, "fine, go home to your father and his sheep."

"My lord," you keep your head down and spin on your heel.

She noise of steel on leather sounds as he unsheaths his sword and you stop. The tip of the blade rests on your shoulder, a good and dangerous weight.

"You know who I am?" He asks and you nod. "And you know what I've done?" Another nod, "so you have the sense not to speak of this encounter?"

"My lord," you whisper.

He pulls the blade off your shoulder and lets the tip brush along the shawl, "very well."

You don't move until you hear him stride away. He laughs to himself, his voice echoing up into the sky as a distant rumble rolls over the sky, as if to join in. You scurry up the sand, back to the path, without looking back.

Who would think to meet a Lion of Lannister down in the sands? Certainly not you. And you daren't mention it to Delia for fear of stoking her hopes. Even if she were to meet some knight, you doubt him to be any better.

⚔️

It's the same old answer. 'You may go, if your sister does.' While you agreed to the outing prior, it does not make that statement any less edged. As always, you are you sister's keeper, tasked with being a chaperone, rather than companion.

Delia nearly squeals at the circumstantial acquiescence. You thought your father would refuse and had no intent of truly watching the men pretend at battle. Still, your sister is not entirely incorrect. It is like an experience that will not come twice.

The frenzy that seems contagious spreads beyond your household. The other farmer, the merchants, even the beggars are alight with anticipation. Your own is restrained only by the memory of that peculiar night, the encounter with the king's guard which you could hardly believe was more than a dream. Perhaps it was. You don't worry either way as he would be unlikely to recall a commoner, nor to meet you again amid the hordes of unwashed.

You let the thought fade into the monotony of your daily toil, all as Delia is agog in her fantasies. She tells you aloud how she will meet a fair knight and no longer be the shepherd's daughter. You withhold your cynicism as you sweep what she's left untouched by her own broom.

You long for when she no longer is distracted by her fanciful delusions and so you count down with her to the first day of the tournament. She wears a yellow dress with a braided belt, her nicest, and you pull on your usual undyed cotton, beige and unremarkable. Amid the crush of the crowd, you expect to be muddied up, though she believes she will be a shining star amid the miniscule.

You follow the train of peasantry, old, young, and in between, along the winding streets and past the silken tents erected for the knights and their squires. You can't help but marvel at the blowing banners of houses, dyed in every colour and shade. Horses nick impatiently and servants run between canvas and wood at their duties.

The stands are made of thick logs, to be destroyed upon the departure of the royal party. A waste like anything else the rich indulge in. You don't think much on it, it isn't your trouble to worry for.

As you stream into the crowded pits, the shouts of vendors erupt, selling pies and watered-down ale, as the higher rows fill with nobles and merchants, dressed in bright tones and glittering jewels. The furor is deafening as bodies press together and push you to the limit of the pit.

"Oh, there are so many," Delia groans and you hold onto her arm, afraid to lose her.

"I told you--"

"Oh, you always tell me," she fans herself with her hand, "must you always be so right?"

You tilt your head wryly but say nothing. If you had, it would've been smothered by the blare of the trumpets. The horns are joined by beating drums and plucking strings, all before the crier announces the arrival of the king, to sit in his box to watch the entertainment. Too old and fat to sit a horse himself. Too vaunted to lift his hammer against blade.

Delia latches onto you and shakes you as she cheers, trying to see over the masses to the distant dot of the king as he waves to his subjects. You hardly feel beholden to him. So lowly that you doubt you have any effect upon him or him you. 

A figure beside him, slender, tall, with golden hair to her waist, mirrors him in his greeting. His wife, Cersei Lannister, plays her part gracefully. There are two others, to either side, golden and still. King's Guard, though you cannot make out which.

"Can you believe it, sister?" Delia breathes in her ear, "we're really here."

You smile at her. She is happy then and you won't spoil it. Even if after you will have to live in her disillusionment.

⚔️

Delia loses you in the rush to disband from the pit. The prospect of free ale at the expense of the crown has the people thirsty and thoughtless. You’re nearly trampled as you lose sight of your sister, swept up in the futile flow of the swarm.

Finally, you come into open air, breaking free and turning to watch the train of spectators. You don’t see Delia, only the blend of bodies moving across the grasses, sandals, clogs, and boots crushing the wet grass. The tumult of the tournament lingers, booming in voices and jostling with playful punches and nudges.

You feel lost and a bit scared. She can find her way home and likely will but what if she wanders too far? You’re both full grown but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous. Drunkenness is hardly a parent of good behaviour.

You wait until much of the flock are in the tents before you follow. Outside, you hear horns and laughter from those tents further down, those reserved for nobility. There are those who mill about, covetous of the event, soldiers with sword on hips but eyes on cups.

You enter to the ribaldry, the flow of foam topping bone cups. You walk the parameter, dodging out of the way of fellow celebrants, searching, sweeping over every step. If Delia is there, you cannot find her.

The heat within the canvas grows stolid and sweat mingles with humidity to coat your skin. You elbow your way to the long flap and let yourself out into the evening. The darkness descends as the moon rises to its apex. The day has run by like a river.

You peer down the rows of tents, horses tied at posts and torches stuck into the dirt. You could wait there until she is forced out. It could be hours but it may be the best way.

You resign yourself to the tedium but a trill tweaks your ear. You tilt your head and listen. Hushed voices float in the air. There’s some rustling as you follow the noise, a sudden shriek shaking you.

Your heart lodges in your throat and you look around. Shadows pace lazily between tents, soldiers making their watch heedlessly. They do not seem to hear the shout. Another rises and you race past the ten without a thought. You know it’s Delia, she screams like that when she sees caterpillars in the house.

“Come on, girlie, just a taste,” the gritty voice growls, “stop squirming, eh? Pull your skirts up.”

You stop short as you see their silhouettes, skin pricking, head buzzing. The golden arm glints in the moonlight. What do you do? A soldier, a King’s Guard of all people, it is a crime to even challenge him, yet he is groping and grabbing at Delia. Was he not sworn to protect the king and abstain from all else?

Before you can find your voice, a light flickers from behind you. Footsteps near and a throat clears.

“Trant,” the deep timbre cuts through Delia’s whimpers, trapped behind the guard’s gauntlet, “are you truly going to do all this with a witness?”

The man, Trant, releases your sister and she falls to the ground as he squints as Ser Jaime. You step aside as he holds up the torch in his hand. His lips are crooked in a half-smirk.

“At least take her in a tent,” Jaime scoffs.

Trant chuckles and bends to grab Delia by the nape of her neck, “get up, wench.”

“Wai–” you lunge forward and Lannister stops you with an arm.

“Move another step and I’ll have him throw her in the sea,” he sneers.

“Please, ser, she is my sister–”

“I don’t care if she’s the Maiden herself,” he turns and shoves you as your sister squeals and kicks as she’s tossed over the other knight’s shoulder.

“Why–”

“You ask me questions, peasant?” He grabs your arm and shakes you, “how fate must delight in our meeting again. I believe it is a sign from the Seven, don’t you?”

You stammer and shake him off. He hisses and reaches for his pommel. You stumble, nearly bowled over by the venom in the noise. 

“You think highly of yourself, like a queen,” he grips the sword, “that I, a knighted King’s Guard, dare touch you…” he closes the gap and grabs you by the chin, thrusting you close, “I could run you through and leave you for the crows to find. And who would care?”

You gulp and stare up at him, the dim grey of the night consumes you as he blocks out the moon.

“But what am I to do? The king is in his cups and shall have his queen, whether she wishes it or not. My brother has his whores, rented in gold, and I…” he inhales, “what do I have?”

You murmur, nonsensical as your fingers brush his sleeve. He tuts and throws you away from him.

“Don’t think yourself so special,” he snarls, “bend over.”

You stagger and face him, a quiver rattles your breath. He slides the steel slowly up from the sheath.

“Did I not give you an order?” he rasps as the metal shines in the silver moonlight. “Turn around and bend over.”

You wince and blink as your eyes burn. You move stiffly, your body resisting your mind. As you bring your back to him, he grips the back of your neck and pushes you down, nearly slamming you to your stomach before you can get your foot out to keep off the ground. You whimper as he pinches you meanly.

“This is what I hate about you peasants. You have nothing. You are nothing and you come and get your fill and go back to your sheep and your shit,” he drags his hand down your spine and tugs the top of your skirt, raising the hem as he gathers the layers into a bundle above your rear, “you don’t know what it is to matter… how absolutely miserable it is.”

He pulls his hand away and smacks your bare ass. You gasp and hear the steel against the leather as he frees it completely. You shut your eyes, is this how it happens. You wait for the sword to descend, for the pitiful execution in the muddy grass.

He steps behind you as you brace your knees. He tisks and presses the cold pommel of his sword to your bottom. He slides it across and down between your cheeks. You shiver, uncertain, as he reaches your folds. 

He pushes against you. The hard round end strains against your tight entrance. He frames your hip with his hand and leans more weight into you. The metal stretches you, strangling a gurgle from your lips. The bulbous end slips past the last of your resistance as your thighs quake.

“You think you’re worth my cock?” He scoffs, “no, no, I am a man of the sword.”

He wiggles the sword and inches in further inside, the rough leather-bound handle scrapes against your walls. Tears trickle down, born of shame and pain, and the jams in the last of the pommel. He eases it back as you catch your breath, only to ram it back in. 

Your pelvis rings with the force and you reach a hand to the ground to hold yourself upright. Your fingers graze the dirt as he thrusts again.

He fucks you with pommel, jolting you with each violent intrusion. Your tears well up and flow free, sobs hiccuped through your tight throat. You can barely keep afoot, barely think as he desecrates you. You throb and ache around the thick handgrip.

He stops abruptly and his hand crawls down from your hip to pinch your ass. He chuckles and bends over you, breathing down your neck.

“I had a funny thought,” he taunts, “as this is no man’s cock, though I must say it is as great as that weapon sheathed in my trousers, does that mean you are still virginal? Or perhaps you may claim you’ve been deflowered by The Warrior himself.”

He clicks his tongue and shoves the pommel deep, until your legs fold and he follows you down, descending to his knees as he keeps it buried inside you. You hide your face in the dirt as you wail, the vibrant clamour from within the tents drowning your cries.

“Say what you will, but you will never forget the King’s Slayer’s blade, will you, wench?”

[orangevtae]

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy [S.Harrington x Henderson!Reader]

prev - next

A/N: I finished watching S4 and felt like my soul would leave my body at every scene lol Sadie Sink it's just completely amazing on this season 😭😭

Chapter 8: The Piña Colada Song

Waking up early at the next day made you quickly move with the boys to get everything done.

You were separating some good amount of things to eat at the breakfeast and a little bit more for the rest of the day in case you guys felt hungry since you were sensing that you guys would take at least some good part of the day making a trap for Dart, leaving it on the kitchen island and turning to the meat you had separated on the night before.

"Morning"

Sensing you looking at him, his eyes moved up and encountered yours, making you look away and shaking your head before frowning and continued to chop the meat, pure embarrassement creeping up your neck and up you cheeks.

"Hey, good morning" You got stucked at chopping of the meat you're gonna need the moment you laid eyes on Steve. He just had a shower, his hair was damp and towel around his neck while he was munching on something that you didn't had a clue of what it was and the only thing that passed trough your head was how drop dead gorgeous he was looking.

"Ok Y/N, focus, the meat, cut the meat. Stop having these thoughts, he has a girlfriend and would never even consider you a option even if he was single. Focus. Dart. Yeah, the situation with Dart is important. Stay focused! It doesn't matter that he looks pretty even with his hair damp...OH MY GOD! OK, DART! Yes, Dart!"

But you just totally missed how he was looking at you the moment you just turned away. It was incredible, you were just chopping meat, yellow gloves at your hands but yet, someway, Steve just thought of how freaking beautiful you were at the moment, somehow a ray of sun settled itself behind you and illuminated you directly and Steve just lost his breath for a second, taking in how beautiful you actually were, making a line from your eyes to the tip of your nose and your pretty mouth that had a little pout. But then he frowned. The hell was he doing???

"Oh my god! Steve Harrington, you love Nancy Wheeler, what the hell what are you thinking? You still love Nancy Wheeler, right? Right!...i do still love Nancy, right? But Y/N is so beautiful, like what the hell is that pout??  I wish i could kiss it away...WOAH! WHAT?! FOCUS STEVE! Dart! Yes, Dart! Focus on Dart, that's why you were called here!"

He immediatly went back to eat what he was eating and you were finishing to chop the meat, you both went silent, a little bit of tension on the air.

When Dustin entered the kitchen, his smile droped at noticing the obvious tension between you and Steve, he sighed and look to Steve, to you and back to Steve, noticing how the older boy pretended to eat something but always sneaking glances at you without you noticing.

"Hey, guys! Good Morning"

"Hey buddy! Slept well?"

"Like a baby, sis"

"Good" you said taking off the gloves "I'm ready with the meat, so if you want to start putting it on the buckets for me while i go take a shower..."

"Sure, me and Steve can handle it"

Dustin saw Steve was done pretending that he was busy eating something and went putting the gloves that you were wearing while Dustin grabed another pair, put it on and grabed some meat to put in a bucket.

"Thanks!" You ruffled Dustin's hat when you passed by him and went straight to bathroom.

"Did you slept well on the couch, Steve?"

"Yeah, surprisily i did"

"That couch is really good to take a nap, Y/N does it everytime when she's watching a movie and end up falling asleep" he said casually to see what would be Steve's reaction at the mention of you

"Can't really judge her, i would always sleep in that couch if i could" Steve shrugged his shoulders as he putted some meat in the other bucket "I was wondering...your sister has ever dated anyone?"

Steve asked cautiously, eyes trained on the meat but ears attentive to what Dustin was about to say.

"Yeah, she dated a guy a while ago, what was his name again?" he pretended to think "Jackson? Jack? Jordan? Oh, i think it was Jordan! Cool dude, really tall, redhead but he ended up being a jerk to her"

"What he did?"

"Cheated on her" Dustin saw Steve furrow his brows and looked at Dustin "A jerk right?"

"Totally. Such a shit act"

"You tell me, i think i never saw my sister being so sad and angry at the same time, she's not one to be mad easilly, but the Jordan situation really got on her nerves"

"He tried to get her back??"

"Sometimes, wouldn't stop bring flowers and faking crying on our front door saying that he missed her and shit, she never believed him though and never got back with him. But why you asking?"

"Has she ever shown some interest in him?"

Steve looked around, making sure that you weren't around before turning to Dustin and then sighed "It's just that there's a new guy at school, a little bit of a jerk i would say, has been all over her since he arrived and everytime he gets close to her, i can see that she gets uncomfortable"

"No, not at all, she always rolls her eyes and sometimes makes sassy remarks but it looks like he doesn't get the message"

"What a jerk"

"Right? I know that she can take care of herself, i saw it last year, but there's something about this guy that it's just off and i don't know"

"You should help her, you know?"

"How?"

"Just pretend that you have something to say with her, Y/N/N's too polite, even if the person it's being a scumb, she will always chose to be polite till she can't take it anymore. So next time, just made up something."

"Ok, i'll try remember that"

"How's things with Nancy?"

"I don't know, she said some things and i haven't seen her since Tina's halloween party, guess it's a little complicated"

"Hope you guys can figure this out"

"Hey guys, everything ready?" you asked when you arrived on the living room

"Yeah, i hope too" Steve sighed, he didn't even know anymore what was the situation with Nancy, he knew that they weren't on good terms and now she's just gone the hell knows where possibly with Jonathan Byers, the excruciating feeling that she was just pretending their whole relationship was always present in Steve's mind and he thought if they were still together or if things really ended by now.

"Yeah, everything's ready" Dustin answered

"Let's go after that thing" Steve said and went to load the things on his car.

"Sorry man, my stupid sister turn it off" Oh, it was Lucas

Soon as you and Steve finished loading the car with everything you gonna need to, you heard Dustin's walkie turn to life and turned around to pay attention on the conversation "Well, well, well, look who it is"

"Wait, what?"

"Well while you were having sister's problems, Dart grew again, has scaped and i'm sure it is a baby Demogorgon!" You continued to help Steve with the things while hearing Dustin and Lucas conversation, putting on some gloves while you unloaded a little bit more of gasoline.

"I'll explain later, just meet me, Y/N and Steve at the old junkyard"

"Steve?"

"And bring over the binnoculars and your wrist rocket"

"Steve Harrington?" you left a giggle at Lucas surprised voice and Steve gave you a smirk

"Alright, let's go" Steve said closing the trunk and getting a bucket while you got the other

"Why are they always surprised when my name comes around?" Steve asked you

"Just be there, stat! Over and now!" Dustin turned off the walkie-talkie and you guys started walking, way off to the woods.

"I think it's just weird you being there, don't know. But i'm actually glad you here"

"Really?"

Yeah, maybe it was good not being alone babysitting the party while having to save the world again.

"Yeah, feels good to know that i won't be the only one babysitting them this time" He scoffed and pushed a little by your shoulder, you let out a laugh and he laughed a little too.

"I can't believe we gonna save this country ass again, all i'm asking it's a year without having to fight monsters from the Upside Down!"

"It's insane" Dustin agreed

Taglist:  @mochminnie @marmol4d4 @starhastoomanyfandoms @ren-ni @xoxoloverb @nctma15

"Someone please tell those douches that i want to have a normal highschool worrying about stupid futile things, jeez!" You said out loud and laughed, the boys laughing along cause yeah, no one can't take this anymore, wanting to have a normal life without putting your lifes in danger would be great.

[untaemedqueen]

The Deal

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 21.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Leverage, Fluff

Silk sheets and your touch is the only way Min Yoongi can wake up in a good mood these days. He stakes his life on it.

But for once, he woke up before you. It's not a normal thing that happens but he equates it to excitement.

He is so fucking excited for today.

He's never once thought about a woman having his tiger and now that he has you -- he wants nothing more than to see it on your skin.

You wanting this tattoo, this bond, he feels like he's died and gone to heaven.

So he left the bed a little bit early to let you get your rest. Yoongi hasn't seen the sun rise for a very long time and more than that, he's never appreciated the colors that dance across the sky like a pretty watercolor painting.

He looks down at his lit cigarette, watching the way the cherry shines brighter with each passing of wind that flows through the forest.

He can remember how much you hated the smell when he first met you. That feeling probably hasn't gone away but you just care for him too much to say anything now.

Dropping the cigarette from between his fingers, he stomps it out. And with one incredibly smooth motion, he tosses the rest of his cigarette pack into the garbage beside the gazebo.

You'll get everything you want, whether you ask for it or not.

He continues his stroll through the lush backyard, minding some piles of dog shit that haven't been cleaned up yet.

It's calm back here, transcendent almost.

He can make out the other's houses in the distance and there's movement that catches his eye immediately.

His hand reaches for his gun and he narrows his eyes at the view before him. It's distant but so clear before his eyes that he presses his lips into a thin line. He continues to get closer as the seconds tick on.

Jeongguk and Hanna slowly sneak out of Jimin's house and Yoongi watches on with rapt fascination.

"You little shit bag," he quips, walking closer.

The drug lord watches them kiss. It's slow and then so blindingly passionate that he averts his eyes out of courtesy.

Jeongguk doesn't want Hanna to leave that much is clear, they way he's trying to pull her clothes off in the morning sunlight.

Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows when the small woman beats her fists to his chest out of embarrassment.

"I'm gonna miss you, baby," Jeongguk murmurs, biting his bottom lip.

"Not as much as I'll miss you." she quips, giving him one final kiss.

Yoongi smirks.

This is such pure, untouched gold... that he'll be able to hold over your brother forever.

When Hanna finally gets into her car and drives away, Yoongi whistles loudly.

The noise makes Guk jump and the second he sees his boss he becomes like a scared child.

"Oh God!" he gasps, gripping onto Jimin's front railing.

"So you're with Hanna," Yoongi muses, resting his head against the tree beside him.

"Hyung, please, please, please don't tell my sister! Please!" Jeongguk begs, descending the stairs quickly.

Yoongi looks down at his shoes, raising an eyebrow at the tone of your younger brother's voice.

"That's gonna cost you, Gukkie." Yoongi sings, crossing his arms.

Your brother falls to his knees, grabbing at the scarred man's shirt. With a grimace, your boyfriend pushes his hands away.

"Anything! I'll do anything! My sister can't know about it! She'll kill me! Hanna works for her, she'll murder me!" Guk cries out, letting his head loll back.

"Well you should have thought about it before you canoodled with the barista," Yoongi quips, carding his fingers through his hair.

"I'll do anything!" Jeongguk pleads, making a prayer-like symbol with his hands and rubbing them together.

"Anything?" Yoongi inquires.

Oh, yes. This is just perfect.

"Yoongi?!" you call out from the back of the kitchen.

Even better.

Your boyfriend smiles widely down at the younger man. "Yeah, baby! Over here!"

"Hyung!" Jeongguk croaks, standing back up.

They both watch as you start your walk over and Jeongguk whines nervously.

"Anything! I promise! I swear on the tiger!" Jeongguk begs, pulling at Yoongi's sleeve like a kid.

"Get… off! Jesus! Fine. I'll take your pleading as a sign that you really want to keep this a secret. So let me make this perfectly clear to you, today your sister is getting my tiger on her chest and I don't want to hear you bitching about it for a single second. You hear me, Jeon? You keep your sister and I's relationship out of your mouth or I'll tell her all about you and little Hanna hookin' it up over the espresso powder."

Guk drops his mouth in horror at the older man's statement.

"Your tiger?! Are you craz-" your brother looks over at you, how close you are to them and he has an internal struggle for a minute before he groans loudly.

"Fuck! Fine! Goddammit!" he seethes through his teeth, bunching his hands in his hair into fists.

"You promise?" Yoongi teases, looking back at you with a large smile.

"Yes! I promise!" Guk grinds out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Good little rat," the scarred man coos.

Finally, you step beside the drug lord, smiling up at him when he wraps his arm around your waist.

"What's going on over here?" you quip, laying your head against your boyfriend's chest.

"Oh, nothing. I was just telling Guk how you're getting the tiger today and he's so excited about it. Isn't that right, Jeongguk?"

You quip an eyebrow, expecting an explosion from your brother.

The younger man stares at his boss, eyes hard and unwavering.

They continue their staring contest for ten seconds too long before your brother blinks first.

"Ye-Yes. I'm just so happy you're going to be chained to Yoongi until the day you die." your sibling says forcibly, giving you a small smile.

"Really?" you chirp, looking up at Yoongi.

He winks down at you, drifting his thumb over your cheek softly.

"Oh yes. I can't wait to see you become a real, true mob wife. I'm just so over the moon that you'll be his old lady." Guk murmurs, looking down at the grass beneath his feet.

"Wow. Good. Okay! I thought you were going to throw me in the trunk and send me off to live at a nunnery or something," you breathe happily.

"Don't tempt me," he chuckles, narrowing his eyes at your boyfriend.

"He would never dream of it, baby doll," Yoongi smiles, narrowing his eyes back.

"Oh great! Thank you Gukkie! I'm so glad you're being supportive!" you beam, jumping into his arms and hugging him.

He shakes his head, baring his teeth at his boss.

"I have your coffee ready for you," you tell your boyfriend.

His eyes widen happily at the news and he holds his hand out for yours with a wink.

You take it with a smile, lacing your fingers with his.

As you start to walk away, Yoongi trails behind only to slap your brother upside the head with a chuckle.

The slow pulsing of Yoongi's hand in yours as he clenches and unclenches his fingers makes your mind go completely blank.

Today is the equivalent to getting married in your boyfriend's world.

He said it himself.

And it might be dumb to some, it might be ridiculously naive to believe that your first boyfriend, your only boyfriend, will be the forever love of your life. But you're okay with that.

While you stroll hand in hand towards the glass mansion, you let all of your worries and qualms just float away.

You love this man.

You love this stubborn, strong, lonely man.

And you've probably loved him since the second he helped you off the floor of your coffee shop the first day you both met.

All this push and pull of emotions, the strong desire to take care of the scarred man, the need to heal him -- that's all love.

It's unyielding, it's resilient, it thrums through your veins like a goddamn drug.

And you love that you love this man.

You love that he's yours.

You love that he's not going anywhere.

But like always you'll follow Yoongi's lead.

When he's comfortable with expressing himself in such a way, you will too.

"What're you holding over my brother that you got him to behave like that?" you inquire, dragging your nails over his tan, bare arm.

Your boyfriend smiles coyly, running his tongue over his teeth knowing he's been caught. "You tell me, Sherlock."

"Well if it was about him and Hanna, he's a moron. I know they've liked each other for years now...And the storage room has cameras, I have hundreds of dollars worth of coffee beans in there that need protecting." you quip, opening up the kitchen door.

Yoongi laughs loudly.

You make his heart bleed in so many ways with so few words, it's always a joy.

Picking you up easily, he holds you until he can set you down above him on the island counter. Your legs spread to accommodate him and he pulls down the strap of your nightgown slowly.

His fingertips run over the bare ink-free skin over your chest and goosebumps coat your skin accordingly.

"Feel free to hold it over Guk for as long as you like… I like it when he leaves us alone." you murmur, closing your eyes.

"I'll take you up on that, sweetheart," the drug lord coos, drifting his lips over your shoulder.

His kisses are slow and sensual, the petals of his lips move in time with your heartbeat, coating every centimeter of your skin as his own.

His kisses cease above your heart but his lips stay glued to your skin. His eyes flutter shut and he just stays silent. He's listening to everything -- the birds singing, the wind whipping through the trees, the inhales and exhales from you.

"I'm the luckiest man in the universe." he breathes, letting his forehead replace his mouth on your chest.

Running your fingers over the dragon tattoos of his scalp, you tilt your head.

"You turned me from a monster, from a hard shelled prick, into a man of devotion, into a man with a growing heart. This is all yours, sweetheart. Everything. Anything. I want you to know that."

"I just want you," you sing, tilting his face up.

His eyes are alight with care and earnestness.

"All I need is you," you whisper, coasting your thumb over his scar.

"You got me." he breathes, wrapping his arms around you.

You're surprised to see the tattoo equipment just stacked up in the living room. You expected to be going to a dark, goth decorated tattoo parlor where the artists have so many piercings in their lips that they look like some sort of metallic man.

"This is special and private. They come to us." Yoongi announces, watching you drift your hands over the multitude of machines.

You've thought about getting tattoos several times, especially when Guk would come home every day with a new piece of ink.

Nothing has ever stood out to you though, not until now. You could never make up your mind about what you wanted on your body forever.

This new ink won't be just a regular old tattoo. This means something.

It means something so prolific and so wondrous that everything in the future might just fall short.

"Is it going to hurt?" you inquire, watching the tattoo artist enter the house without a word.

It wasn't long ago that Namjoon had taken the blindfold off this man. You know that Yoongi is private but to hide the sight of how to get to his house only makes it that much more obvious that you have so much to learn.

"It's the good kind of pain," your boyfriend promises.

His arms wrap around you as the tattoo artist begins to set up.

You watch on with rapt fascination, seeing how easy it is for the man to connect all the jumbled wires quickly with precision.

"You don't have to get this right now if you're unsure or nervous." the drug lord reminds you.

You can hear the sadness in his voice but you pick up on something else as well -- understanding.

Turning around to the man you adore, you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I want this. I want you. I've never been so sure about anything else except wanting a coffee shop." you avow.

Yoongi lets out a low whistle, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're a smooth talker. You can turn my insides to dust in a second if you keep talking like that."

Giggling, you stand on the tips of your toes.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, Ming?" Yoongi replies, hugging you tightly to him.

"The gold, please."

The drug lord hums in agreement. He pulls away to dig into his suit jacket. The bottle that he pulls out looks so incredibly expensive, it has diamonds along the entire base and smaller stones of rubies and sapphires.

He tosses the bottle with little caution and you jump nervously, widening your eyes.

Ming catches it easily, shaking the bottle with smooth motions.

"Looks expensive," you muse, turning back to Yoongi.

"It's real body safe gold. It goes for a pretty penny." he breathes, running his thumb over your cheek.

"Oh… I just assumed that the gold outline would just be a deep yellow or something."

"Not in our world." he quips, pulling away to grab a glass of liquor.

Our world.

Those two words have your stomach flipping intensely.

You're really his.

You're really doing this.

As your heart begins to feel lighter and lighter, almost to the point of you feeling like you can fly when the kitchen door bursts open.

"Yoongi," Jin hisses, dabbing the sweat on his sideburns.

Your boyfriend's head turns slowly, taking in the disheveled older man. He lets out a loud exhale, running his hands over his face as if he's becoming irritated.

"This is the most important day of my life, I told you I didn't want to be interrupted," the scarred man sighs, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin.

"Yeah… no… I know, I'm sorry but I need to talk to you," the oldest murmurs, looking over at you apologetically.

Your boyfriend shakes his head, gulping down the liquor with a quickness.

"Say what you gotta say," he urges, turning his attention to Ming who's almost done setting up. "Quickly."

Jin looks at you for a moment before humming uneasily.

"She's about to become my old lady. Anything you know, she will know. So just make this easy for me and hurry up," Yoongi breathes, pulling his gun out and putting it on the dining room table.

The drug lord sits down beside the chaise lounge and he motions for you to lay back for Ming.

You do as told, watching the oldest pick at skin around his nails nervously.

"I'm waiting," your boyfriend insists, spinning his gun on the table with his index finger.

Seokjin takes a deep breath, already cringing at the words that flow past his lips. "Someone stole half of our shipment of cocaine at the docks."

Your eyes immediately snap to Yoongi and his jaw tightens in an instant. His fingers flex and he grips the handle of his gun so tightly you're sure that he's going to crush it in his hands.

Without a word, you grab onto his hand. Your thumb strokes against his smooth skin and his eyes squeeze shut.

There's silence for a long time. Just the sounds of your boyfriend breathing heavily, the snap of latex gloves going onto hands and Jin nervously clearing his throat rings through the stagnant air.

"This is the equivalent of you spitting on my face on my wedding day. Do you realize that?" Yoongi seethes through his teeth.

"Yes, I know. But I needed to tell you. We just found out about it."

Your boyfriend gives a laugh, one devoid of any humor. "Do we know who?"

Jin looks down at his feet, dragging his hands over his sweaty face. "No… they killed all the cameras and took down all the guards."

Yoongi squeezes your hand so impossibly tight that you squeak at the sudden sharp pain.

He realizes his mistake immediately, checking on you in an instant. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry," he coos, kissing you gently.

"I'm ready," Ming notifies the drug lord.

Disregarding Jin in the doorway, Yoongi looks at you. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

"Yes," you reply, squeezing his hand softly.

He smiles before turning his attention back to the oldest. "We'll deal with it later. This is more important."

Seokjin gives a strict nod, watching the tattoo artist pour out the gold ink into a small paper cup.

"Do you have a cigarette?" Jin inquires to the boss, patting down his own pockets.

Your boyfriend shakes his head, drifting his lips over the back of your hand. "Tryin' to quit."

Well that's news to you.

"A beautiful, headstrong, stubborn queen once told me she hated the smell," Yoongi quips, nodding to Ming to begin.

You find your neck and ears heating up at his words.

The thin transferable paper is pressed to your chest and when it's peeled away you exhale a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"This means forever," your boyfriend whispers, holding up the mirror for you to see it.

Even in purple ink it's so much more beautiful than you could have imagined. It's larger than all the ones you've seen before and to your surprise you love that. It's the same exact fierce tiger that sits prettily on Yoongi's neck but the paws are more feminine and the tail is longer, ending just below your collarbone where it curls sweetly at the end.

It looks made for you.

"Forever," you promise.

The sound of the tattoo gun turning on sends shivers up your spine and you turn your head to look at your boyfriend for solace. His eyes are glassy, eyebrows knit together.

When the needle enters your skin, he lets out a shaky breath of relief.

You're so much more than perfection for him.

You're his family.

His life.

His home.

"Goddammit," he hisses, pressing his forehead to your knuckles.

When you whimper at the hot, dragging pain, he kisses over your hand to comfort you.

"My baby girl," he whispers fondly.

He's known it for a while now, even if he didn't want to admit it or rush into anything due to his prior failure at romance.

He's so in love with you that it takes up every cell in his entire body.

"My queen," he breathes, watching the tattoo come to life before his eyes.

You're such a huge part of this scarred man that there is no one else in the world that could make his heart bleed like this.

And he wouldn't change that for anything in the world.

Because this day, the day you got this new tiger tattoo, is the day your life changed forever.

This day was the day you were accepted into an empire that Yoongi had built for years.

And what comes next… Well, every queen gets a crown.

<------ Last Chapter                                           Next Chapter ---->

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[txemrn]

Hey, friends!  I'm ready to see some of y'all's future projects, whether they are fics, text edits or picta edits! Tags will be at the end, but if you are reading this, please consider yourself tagged to share!

If you're interested, check under the cut to find some of my current WIPs: 2 TRR snippets and 2 OPH snippets!

Thank you so much for all of the support! *hugs*

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Pour Two Glasses, Ch. 5: TBD  

TRR; Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

As she approaches a knoll, a large shadow grants her body brevity from the warm sun. She brings a hand to her forehead, shielding the brightness from her eyes. She strains to make out the broad shapes and chiseled lines of the man standing before her. His eyes shimmer with the brilliance of the Mediterranean, his skin like the soft sands of Nissi.

“My love,” he smiles endearingly at her; he cups two filled wine flutes in one large hand as he extends his arm out towards her, his open palm ready to take her into his arms.

“My king,” she breathes, her heart swelling at the very presence of him. She drops her skirt. She draws closer to him as a smile brightly bubbles across her lips. It’s him; it’s really him.

But as their fingertips almost touch, Riley missteps.  She trips over an imperfection in the terrain as she falls to her knees, her hands catching her on the ground. As she looks back to her husband, he is gone.

“No,” she whispers as she frantically scours the rolling hills around her.

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TBD (one-shot)

Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

“Ethan?” An older man grabs the young boy's skinny arms, gently shaking them to wake him up. “C’mon, buddy, it’s your birthday.”

“Dad,” the preteen groans, “just five more minutes.” He dramatically flops over, pulling the covers over his head.

“Well,” his father takes a seat on the side of his bed, “I guess then a certain eleven-year-old won’t get to open a birthday gift before his party–”

Ethan quickly lifts up the covers, peering at his dad with one eye barely open. “Really? I–I can open a gift before tonight?” Alan Ramsey holds up a small, wrapped box in the shape of a cassette tape. “No way… is that…?” He throws the covers off of his body as he sits up, stealing the present from his father.  He puts his ear up to it, shaking it gently. He scrunches up his freckled nose, his wide smile exposing his lone, cute displaced tooth as his crystal eyes dance with amazement.  “Did you get me the Pearl Jam album?”  

“Don’t know,” Alan feigns ignorance, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to open it up.”

---------

Stay, Chapter 3: Don't You Speak for Me

TRR AU; Drake Walker x f!OC; f!OC (Reid Ambrose) x ?

About this snippet... the Ambrose Siblings: Reid (24), Tana (21), Nick (18)

Tana looks to Reid with concern. "There are protests down in the villages–violent ones." She sighs, "they had to call in the national guard," she clenches her jaw. "They started mowing down Auvernese like dogs."  

The siblings fall silent as Reid takes in these words, confusion and a sense of anger etching across her face. She had taken the back way home; this was the first she had heard about any violence.

Thinking about all of the displaced people, her people, that sought safety in Cordonia during the war, Reid blinks back tears.  She kisses her niece's temple before attempting to change the subject, hoping for something less gloomy.

"So... where's Papa?"

Tana and Nicky exchange worrisome glances to one another before focusing on their older sister. "He went looking for you–"

"What?" Reid hisses, handing baby Mila back to her sister. "And you let him go?" She opens the front door and begins to unlock her bicycle. "How could you let him go?"

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Like Ships in the Night, Prologue: We Finally Got it Right

Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)... and other former pairings...

Recinching the white satin belt of my short, lace-trimmed robe startles him into a double-take.  “There you are,” he beams brightly at me; he offers a guilty smile as he claps his hands. “Nothing was open at 1:30 in the morning except…” he sighs, “the golden arches.”

Raising a playful eyebrow, I saunter closer to him, closing the gap between us. As I wrap my arms around his thick, swole musculature, his taut, strong arms envelop my own body. He pulls me closer, pressing me lovingly into the flat planes of his chest.

“Mmmm…" I nuzzle into him, "it’s perfect. My husband did good,” I steal a fry.

He smirks before kissing my forehead. He looks at his watch. “It’s been–” he clicks his tongue, “--nine hours? I really hope I haven’t messed this marriage-thing up too badly just yet. Although, I’m not so sure that feeding my wife McDonald’s on her wedding night is being a good husband.”

"I think you're doing a damn good job on keeping her satiated, Mr. Ramsey," I giggle under my breath.

The man truly is a god. His glorious tongue and nimble fingers permeated secret parts of me during our quaint wedding reception earlier, making us swiftly take our exit during the main course.  Even now after spending four breathless hours making love, I look up into those possessive crystal eyes, and my arousal instantly awakens.

God, I need him.

-----------

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And seriously... if you see this and you weren't tagged, PLEASE participate! This is for everyone! 💜💜💜

[diosmio76]

What I Deserve (2) | soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Dark!Bucky x Reader

WARNINGS: +18, dub-con, needle use, stalking, fingering, kidnapping, kind of non-con (more dub-con but just incase)

Word Count: 3,076

A/N: my timeline on which version of Barnes is fucked up and a mix of everything honestly // my first ever time writing smut, and honestly I'm open to constructive criticism b/c I have no experience in this area LOLZ

You squeezed your eyes as you stretched your body. Feeling your comforter rise and fall against your skin from your movements. You hung your feet off your bed and stretched them before standing up. You did your usual set of morning stretches, were they done correctly? Probably not, but it was the thought that counts and the only form of self-care you gave yourself. You let out a sigh as you got ready for another day similar to all the rest. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be excited about waking up, but who were you to complain. You used the toilet as you went back and forth in your mind about nothing in particular, your eyes staring at your bed that was quickly losing the warmth it collected from your body. Once done in the bathroom you dragged yourself to your vanity, hearing the faint noise of cars on the street, you began getting ready for work. After changing and grabbing your tattered work bag, you began your journey with all the other commuters.

The day dragged on like any other, talking to coworkers only when they needed something from you. Hearing the usual remarks of “Oh, I didn’t notice you” or “I didn’t even see you there”, you got used to it but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. Before you had time to dwell on it, it was time to go home. You packed your bag then began your walk home, following the same route you always take during the week. Taking a little solstice in the fact that you were just another face in the crowd, that fact made you feel as if everyone else was alone too. Once home you locked the door and dropped your bag, heading to the bedroom you changed into an oversized shirt and put on your slippers before heading towards the living room. You turned on the tv and lowered the volume for some background noise, making the short trip towards the kitchen to make dinner. You rarely got messages on your phone unless it was from your mom or your phone provider wanting you to update your old phone, so you scrolled mindlessly through various social media newsfeeds. You munched on a vegetable as you waited for your pan to heat up. You tried to not feel bad for yourself, you were the one to blame for the lack of social life but you were in too deep. Too set in your ways. You stared at the steaming pan as you imagined moving across the country.

“Yeah right” you said aloud to yourself as you finished cooking your dinner, eating the food but not really tasting it.

~~~

You repeated the same routine the next day, unbeknownst to you today was the day that Bucky decided you were ready. It didn’t take him long to find a house isolated by miles of forest. Despite its unassuming traditional exterior, the inside was modern as he enjoyed the impersonal nature that the style provided. He spent the majority of his time there making sure the house was locked and secure in case you tried anything. The thought made him laugh a little, knowing you didn’t have it in you but he didn’t want to take any chances. Things had been going his way lately, and finding you was like the universe was rewarding him even more. At first, he considered getting to know you, and doing the whole flowers and dates thing but decided he didn’t have the patience for all that waiting, he’s been waiting long enough and he deserved something good. He settled on a much easier method. Breaking in was easy, old apartments like this barely gave him any trouble. He even had someone hold the building door open for him, just his luck.

The lock felt weird when you opened your door but you didn’t think anything of it, dismissing it as another sign of the building’s old age. He watched from afar as you went about your usual routine. He was beginning to become skeptical at how oblivious you were. He was practically behind you and you hadn’t even looked over your shoulder once. He even made some accidental noises by stepping on squeaky floorboards and didn’t get a reaction from you, he took this as another lucky break. You were tired today and fell asleep relatively easily, considering how long it typically took you to fall asleep. Bucky walked around your apartment as he waited for you to enter a deeper sleep, familiar with everything since he had been in here a few times since first spotting you all those weeks ago. He looked at your book collection, a mix of genres, and looked closer at the few photos you had on display. A majority of the old photos seemed to be of your family from decades ago. He picked up one that seemed more recent, the only one you had up that included you. He recognized the other two people in it, your mom and sister, both busy with their own lives. He already sized up your family and it would be easy to handle them if he needed to.

He walked into your bathroom and went through your medicine cabinet, finding nothing out of the ordinary besides a few nail polish bottles and various allergy medicines. Finally, he noticed the soft snores coming out of your room. He shut the cabinet, staring at his reflection for a second. He knew this was the right thing to do and had no bad intention. He softly grunted at his pathetic moment of self-reflection and took out a needle filled with a small dose of anesthesia. He observed you for a moment as you slept, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows relaxed, he considered for a moment how easy it would be to take you, but reminded himself of the bigger picture. He easily found a vein and waited a few minutes before taking you to your new home.

~~~

You squeezed your eyes shut and smiled to yourself as you thought about how well you slept last night. You hummed as you kept your eyes closed briefly noticing the absence of warmth that the morning sun provided you in the mornings. You thought nothing of it, too distracted by the fact that this was probably the best night’s sleep you’d gotten in months. Despite that you still felt a little groggy, you began to move but quickly felt something rough holding you down. Your eyes shot open as your breathing began to quicken. You became conscious of the rough restraints around your arms and legs. You awkwardly lifted your head up as you tried to look around, it looked like a basement based on the unfinished walls surrounding you, a single lightbulb hanging above you on the unfinished ceiling. You attempted to calm yourself down by deeply inhaling but knew it was a lost cause once you heard the shaky exhale leave your mouth. You knew you couldn’t break free from the knotted rope holding you down. You had weak arms and tried to use your leg strength in an attempt to kick yourself free but felt it begin to sting as it irritated your ankles from the pressure. You sat in a deafening silence and felt completely petrified.

You let out a whimper as you heard footsteps approaching the door. The door opened as you saw a tall, broad man approach you. You were too scared to notice anything about him and began to feel yourself shake, causing you to miss the way he hungrily reacted to your frightened state. A shadow was cast on you as he stood over the bed. From the corner of your eye, you watched as his right hand lowered the comforter to your torso and expose your shirt as you twitched at the action. He smirked in response, your eyes following his hand as it hovered over the comforter as though he was going to do something. It exited your line of sight but your eyes were fixed in place. You heard movement as he straightened himself before speaking to you for the first time.

“Did you sleep well? You’ve been out for most of the day” His deep voice filled the room as you kept shaking, too scared to answer. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and wondered if he could too, but he was too busy trailing his eyes over your torso. He noticed the way your nipples created peaks on your oversized shirt. He licked his lips before he moved his hand up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You did your best at avoiding his gaze keeping your gaze low, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control your shaking but felt it intensify instead.

Still gripping your chin, a little tighter than necessary, and trying to control your shaking body got him hard. You looked so weak like this, it made him excited, a wicked smile painted his face as he looked down at your wide eyes and lips clamped together in terror.

“Look at me when I talk to you, doll”

You had a difficult time looking people in the eyes in general, so you lifted your eyes and stopped at his chin. You didn’t dare go any higher. He squeezed on your chin and heard him let out an amused chuckle. If you weren’t so terrified you would have noticed how out of place it sounded given the situation.

“That’ll have to do, for now, I can tell you’re terrified but you really have no reason to be. I only want to do what’s best for you- for us, I’m only doing what needs to be done.” He didn’t expect a response and stared at you as he let you sit with his words.

He took a moment and let his hand trail down from your chin. He felt the nervous swallow as his pointer finger trailed lower and lower. His finger deviated from its straight path as he placed his palm against your chest, pausing to feel your heartbeat racing. He almost felt sorry as he felt its frantic rhythm. He couldn’t help himself as he cupped your left breast. His thumb gently circling around the hard bud. You scrunched your eyebrows and scolded yourself for getting pleasure from his action. His gentle touch was a strong contrast to the situation he had put you in.

His finger continued its journey down and stopped just above your mound. You swallowed as you felt his eyes staring at you intently, not daring to see if you were right. He lifted his hand momentarily as he moves to sit next to you, hearing the springs groan under him, pushing the comforter towards the bottom of the bed. You get chills as warmth escapes, feeling the crisp air conditioning surround your body instead. Jerking at his touch, he returns his right hand to your body just below your navel this time. His fingers trace down until it feathered above your mound. You held your breath as if any noise from you would assure that he would continue his actions as if he would forget you were there. You felt his pause when his fingers hit the material of your cotton underwear. He slowly traces a short line along your clit, you ball your hands into fists wanting to make him stop. Why was your body enjoying this?

You hold your breath as he gently pulls them down till they were at your knees and returns his hand to its previous place. The empty room is quiet, amplifying the sound of both of your breaths. You feel his middle and ring finger move lower gently stroking your folds. You hear him let out a surprised huff as he continued stroking.

“I was gonna bring lube, but it looks like we won’t be needing it, huh sweetheart?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, he was right. You felt heat building ever since he grabbed your chin, but he didn’t need to know that. All you wanted to do was at the very least was cover your face, but felt the irritation of the rope on your wrists instead. He began back and forth on your heat for a few moments. The room now having the added noise of his fingers slowly speeding up as he stroked you. You shut your eyes as he circled around your entrance, you could already tell his fingers would be significantly bigger than yours. He slowly inserted a finger as you sucked in a quick breath. You could hear him let out a quiet groan as he watched his finger disappear into your hole.

After finding a rhythm he added another finger. You let out a whimper at the fullness of both of his thick fingers filling your hole. It stung at first, hurting slightly you wanted to try and stop his intrusion. Besides your finger, you had never had anything else inside of you. You felt slightly embarrassed by this when you were younger but as you got older you accepted the fact that your lack of social life was a major reason as to why you never had anything close to a romantic partner. Never being social enough to meet someone that you would want to be friends with, let alone sleep with. You felt as though you should tell this man, did you even know his name, that this was the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone before. Before you think any more about it you open your mouth, nothing coming out at first but it was enough for his eyes to go to your face. He slowed down his pace and had his eyes trained on your face waiting for you to speak as if his fingers weren’t leisurely stroking your soft walls in the meantime.

“I- I think I need to tell you something” The words left you slowly and your voice was shakey as you tried to speak and ignore your oncoming orgasm at his rough fingers stroking you gently. Why did you feel like you owed him this? You briefly thought to yourself. But it was too late to stop now.

He smirked at you as he waited for you to continue on. So far, you’ve shown him nothing but submissiveness. Cementing the fact that he made the right choice when he chose you. He didn’t plan on being this gentle with you originally but he couldn’t help it, feeling as though any other treatment would scare you away. His fingers never stopping their gentle strokes, he watched your lips as your quiet voice trembled on.

“I’ve never really, I haven’t done any of this before. I’m a virgin” the words leave you slowly, you gulp and still refuse to meet his gaze, scared for a moment that you would lose the gentleness he has given you thus far. You knew that wouldn’t stop him, but a small part of you hoped it would be enough for him to stop just for now. For the first time you decided to look at his face, still too scared to meet his eyes you opted to watch his mouth as you waited for a response.

To say he was ecstatic was an understatement. You had chosen to tell him this on your own, he didn’t even get a chance to ask you. He didn’t want to assume but based on his observations of you he had an inkling that this was the case. He felt proud of you, his perfect girl. He smiled gently at you in response. You shivered as his fingers paused their gentle strokes in you as he moved to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me, my good girl” it sounded patronizing but your body thought otherwise. Feeling heat shoot straight to your core at his response. He felt you squeeze around his fingers at his response.

Once he felt that you adjusted to his fingers he began to alternate inserting them. Thrusting one and then the other inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut, you never felt this close to cumming so quickly. Your eyes swelled with tears as you quietly sobbed, reaching your climax. Both of you watched as he pulled his fingers out of your sensitive heat. Covered in slick from your climax. You watched as he moved his fingers close to his face, smirking at you.

“Just a little taste for now,” he said he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on his two fingers that were just inside you seconds ago. The empty room amplified the sound, your face felt hot as you watched the lewd act feeling your core still throbbing.

He reveled in your obvious embarrassment, humming at your reaction. He wiped his damp fingers on his pants as he got up. You blinked slowly, taking in what had just happened. You had enjoyed what had just happened but felt angry at yourself for that. He shouldn’t have done that, and you had let yourself succumb to his fingers so easily. He watched you, deep in thought with your eyes spaced out. His cock throbbed as if reminding him he needed a release too but he didn’t want to scare you. He had a plan, but you had just showed him that he didn’t have to be as rough as he initially thought with you. And he wouldn’t ever admit it but he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, as soon as he interacted with you it was almost as if he needed to handle you with care. Something that he thought wasn’t in his nature, but for you, maybe he’d try.

He felt his confident demeanor waver for a second, an odd feeling. He needed to get away from her and have a moment alone, so with a quick glance, he turned towards the door and practically ran out of the room without speaking to her.

Too busy thinking, you didn’t notice the foreign feelings your captor had just experienced. Only noticing this broad figure leaving the room as if he was late for something. If you weren’t so busy scolding yourself you would have wondered if you had done something wrong to elicit that action from him.