#gust sound team

[flowersforbucky]

delirium

bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

word count: 4.1k

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.

warnings/tags: sex pollen, dub con, unprotected sex, oral, masturbation, angst, descriptions of physical pain, language, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, reader is afab, 18+ only

flashbacks are in italics

Sometime in the near future, there would be a case study conducted on how long a human being could burn from the inside without dying.

They would refer to you as exhibit a.

Doctors and scientists would lay your cold corpse on a colder table and use a scalpel to cut you from your thorax to your belly button. They would scribble notes about how your lungs had turned to ash and your esophagus to molten lava.

They wouldn't say it, but they would think it's a shame, because your driver's license states that you were an organ donor.

A harsh gust of wind snaps you out of the twisted fantasy and back to your reality - standing barefoot on the rickety front porch steps of a small cabin in Sitka, Alaska. You've only been outside for a few minutes but the snow is pouring down at a brutal pace, already covering the tops of your exposed feet.

The razor sharp chill of the ground below you and the air that surrounds you are the only things tethering you to what little remains of your sanity.

You never thought that you would be so thankful for your feet to be going numb, but after feeling like every fiber of your being is getting melted with a hot branding iron for - what? Ten? Twelve hours now? You had to resist the temptation to submerge your entire body in the multiple feet of snow that had accumulated since nightfall.

You hear the front door of the cabin creak open from behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that he's standing in the doorway with the same look of pleading desperation that he's been giving you since the two of you had realized what was happening.

“You need to come back inside,” he says delicately. His voice is muffled by the roar of the snowstorm, but right now with heightened senses, you hear him just fine. “You're going to get hypothermia.”

You don't respond. The mere sound of his voice makes you grit your teeth together so hard that you're surprised the tiny bones don't shatter.

He keeps to the doorway, scared that if he takes one step closer, you'll flee into the miles of thick woods that surrounds you in only a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He murmurs your name in a tone that begs you to come in from the below freezing temperatures.

“What time is it now?” You barely recognize your own voice - low and strained, it sounds like you haven't had anything to drink in days.

You clear your throat, though you doubt it'll make any difference.

“Just after four o'clock.”

Eleven hours into this hell, then. Best case scenario, another half a day of this. Worst case scenario, close to two.

Either way, you knew that these symptoms had yet to hit their peak. This would undoubtedly get worse before it gets better.

You stare out into the endless thicket of snow covered hemlocks and spruces. The illumination from the full moon makes the white powder on the branches glisten in the darkness.

Daylight was still hours away, and with it, hope for some means of communication with the rest of your team back in New York. The snowstorm had brought a widespread power outage across the city. Cell phone signal was nonexistent right now.

“Go on back to your room,” you tell him. “I'll come back inside in just a moment.” You continue to watch the blizzard before you, knowing that he's still just a few feet away from you. “I promise,” you add, hoping that he’ll believe you and return to the bedroom you'd been forcing him to keep to.

The drug coursing through your veins had amplified every one of your five senses. Even with him behind the closed door of the bedroom, you could still smell faint traces of the earthy musk of his deodorant and something warm that is uniquely him.

You wouldn't chance coming back into the house until his scent has dissipated from the entrance - not unless you want to feel as though all air is being stripped from your lungs.

Even simply standing here, with him behind you and the wind blowing his scent in the opposite direction, is nearly intolerable.

You hear footsteps retreat into the house, growing quieter and quieter as he makes his way back down the hallway, until you finally hear the click of his bedroom door. You exhale a breath that you weren't aware you had been holding in.

You have no doubt that he'll try to drag you back inside by the ankles if he has to, so you make good on your promise and return to the sweltering interior of the six hundred square foot log cabin.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiates from the center of your body at that thought - the exact kind of thoughts you were actively trying to avoid having. Thoughts of his hands digging into your thighs, his wet mouth on your throat, his bare chest pressed against yours as he fucks you into the likely thirty-something year old couch - those thoughts. Dangerous territory thoughts - the kind you didn't trust yourself not to act on if dwelled upon for too long.

Apparently, the thought of him putting his hands around your ankles and dragging you kicking and screaming falls into that category.

You settle onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest in an effort to alleviate the ache in your lower belly. You notice that Bucky has crammed more wood into the fireplace, which currently serves as the main source of light for the cabin, save for a few candles that have been placed sporadically throughout the small space.

Sweat begins to bead across your skin within seconds of sitting down in front of the fire. You know that Bucky is just trying to keep the temperature of the house from dropping below zero while also providing enough light to see during the middle of the night while you are in too much discomfort to sleep, but you feel like you are locked in a sauna after running five miles.

You think back to all of the times that you've given Sam shit for taking ice baths after his workouts. Now nothing sounds better than an ice bath.

Almost nothing, anyway. The only thing that could possibly feel even better is laying down behind a closed door less than twenty feet away.

And he'd offered - begged, actually, to take this pain away from you.

“Please,” he whispers, kneeling on the ground next to the couch, where you sit hunched over in pain. He's so close to you and it's fucking suffocating. He places his hand on your knee and you have to dig your nails into the suede upholstery to keep from whimpering. He notices the reaction and retracts his touch.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says louder, the pet name finally getting you to meet his gaze for the first time since you dropped the glass jar of the firetruck red powder in the former HYDRA warehouse two hours ago.

Big mistake. Looking at him is a big fucking mistake. From the way his blue eyes bore into yours with sincere concern to the way that his plump, pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather -

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head into your hands. “I can't ask that of you. I can't make you do that. I would never forgive my–”

“You wouldn't be asking or making me do anything,” he tries to reason with you. There's sincerity in his voice but you're too delirius to hear the truth of his words. “I'm offering. Because I care about you. Because I don't want to see you in any kind of pain if there's anything I can do about it. Because I think you'd do the same for me if the situation were–”

“Bucky,” you cut him off in a strained gasp. “Your voice is making this so much worse right now.”

“Then let me help you. Let me make you feel good.”

His words alone are enough to have you clenching your thighs around nothing but the thick material of your sweatpants. You can feel your cotton panties becoming more drenched with each word he speaks.

“Not like this.” You're on the verge of tears - from pain, from anger at the entire situation, from how goddamn badly you need to feel him inside you. “It can't happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

His features soften, a look of understanding spreading across his face.

“When we fuck, I want it to be because we want to fuck,” you say as you jump up from your position on the couch, desperately needing to distance yourself from him before you do something you can't take back. “I don't want it to be because we feel like neither of us have a choice in the matter.”

“But we do have a choice,” he murmurs from where he's still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “And I'd choose to go back to that HYDRA facility and infect myself with this shit, too, if it means you'd feel a little less guilty about saying yes.”

Your answer to that was, of course, a big, giant absolutely fucking not. The snow started pouring down shortly after, making his irrational proclamation an impossibility, anyway.

Almost half a day later, here you are. Surrounded by miles and miles of snow and ice in a town with no power or semi-functioning cell phone towers, just trying to endure the fire coursing through your veins until the effects of the HYDRA made drug have worked through your system.

You're coming up on the twelve hour mark now, and there's no denying that you're desperate for relief in one way or another.

Worth a fucking shot, you think.

You prop your feet up on the glass coffee table in front where you sit on the couch, spreading your thighs apart by a few inches.

You hesitate for a moment, listening for any kind of indication that Bucky's no longer in the confines of the cabin’s singular bedroom.

Dead silent, except for the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

You snake your hand down the front of your pants, past the waistband of your underwear and to your center that's been aching for hours now.

You stroke your fingers up and down your folds, stopping at the apex of your core to massage your clit in circular motions.

Your head rolls back on the couch at the sensation, immediately feeling the slightest sense of relief. You dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from moaning - hard enough to draw blood, the taste of iron flooding your mouth.

You slip two fingers past your entrance, not requiring any foreplay to plunge them to the hilt. It feels good - the way you're working yourself with rapid scissoring motions. Really fucking good, actually. Better than fingering yourself has ever felt.

But only a mere minute into the ministrations, you fear that it won't be enough to satiate you in the way that the drug requires.

Still, you try. You yank your t-shirt above your tits, bringing your free hand to paw at your breast as you continue working your pussy with your fingers, the heel of your palm putting pressure against your clit.

“That's not going to work, you know.”

You yank your hand out of your pants, snapping your head to the side to see him leaning against the frame of the small hallway. You had been so immersed in attempting to find some amount of relief that you hadn't heard him exit the bedroom. He's looking at you with sympathy and concern, not judgment - you don't think you'd be able to find it within yourself to feel embarrassed even if he were. Not in your current state of discomfort.

“How do you know that?” Frustration is evident in your voice. You look away from him, back to the fire in front of you as you pull your shirt back down. The floor creaks as he steps out of the hallway and makes his way over to the opposite end of the small couch. He sits a foot away from you, close enough so that his scent and warmth invades your senses, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core.

“Because I've been through what you're going through right now.”

Your eyes break away from the ember that you've been staring at, your gaze snapping to him. You don't know why this comes as a surprise to you. It shouldn't, not with every other form of torment that HYDRA had inflicted upon him for over half a century.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was embarrassed,” he answers with a small half-shrug, breaking your stare. “I didn't.. handle it as well as you are,” he continues, shame in his voice and cheeks rosy. “You’re doing everything you can to fight something that you didn't ask for. That's more than I can say for myself.”

“You were brainwashed, Bucky,” you remind him delicately. It's a risky move that makes your skin burn and belly clench, but you scoot closer to him on the couch - your outermost thigh brushing against his knee. If the two of you weren't both wearing sweatpants, the minimal touch might even aid in bringing you some relief. Instead, you’re left feeling desperate for more of him.

But you push the feeling down, wanting to do what little you can to comfort him - wanting him to know that you don't think poorly of him for what was forced onto him, and what is now being forced onto you, too.

“I would never judge you for anything they made you do,” you assure him.

“I know you wouldn't,” he murmurs, turning to face you again. His blue eyes glow in the low lighting of the fire. The closeness between the two of you is dizzying, and electrifying, and -

“And I want you to know that I would never judge you for giving into this torture,” he adds.

You snort a laugh. “I'm starting to think you want me to give into this.” You mean for the statement to sound light-hearted, but a sharp pang in your gut makes you wince in pain and your voice goes shrill. You clutch your lower belly, hunching over at the pain.

He leans in closer, putting one hand on your lower back and one on your thigh. You whimper at the pressure of his fingers against your spine and inner thigh. Even through your clothes, the contact feels like heaven compared to hell you've been enduring for the last twelve hours.

You lean into his touch - you don't even think about it, you just do it. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your forehead nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

You take a deep inhale, attempting to steady your breathing, and you realize quickly that is a mistake - his scent is so euphoric, it feels like inhaling flames.

“Would it make it easier for you if I said that I do want you to give in?” His voice is low, his breath fanning across your face from his position above you.

“Fuck, Bucky, you can't say that to me right now,” you whine. You fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes squint shut.

“Look at me,” he commands. You force your eyes open, pulling your head back enough to look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I want it to be your choice.” He brings a hand up to cup your jawline. His thumb skims the outline of your bottom lip. “But I would be lying if I said that I'm not relieved that I'm the one here with you, or that I wouldn't enjoy every second of helping you feel better.”

He brings his hands to yours, pulling them away from where they still clutch his shirt. You release your grip, allowing him to hold you by your wrists. He pulls your right hand up to his face, stopping just under his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion, until it dawns on you what it is he's doing.

He inhales deeply, then lowers your hand to his parted mouth. He slips the tips of your index and middle fingers past his lips, and then swirls his tongue around the two digits.

The exact two that had been inside your pussy not even five minutes ago.

Right now, you think you could come from him sucking on your fingers and nothing else.

You don't even try to stop the groan that slips past your lips as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. He moans around them as he finishes cleaning them off, the sound sending vibrations up your arm and throughout your body.

You pull your fingers from between his lips and immediately crush your own lips to his in their place. You feel the drug surging through your veins, but this time it's less excruciating - it now feels like pure adrenaline bubbling under your skin, spurring you on.

He opens his mouth to you, your lips and tongue moving with his in synchronicity. It's hurried and messy, and maybe not as romantic as you had imagined it in your head before this night - but it's exactly what you need right now.

He maneuvers you so that you're laying down on the couch, and nestles himself between your thighs. You can feel the hard outline of his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. He ruts against you, dragging the bulge across your clothed center as he yanks your t-shirt up and over your head. He tosses it somewhere behind the couch before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and palming the other with the cool metal of his left hand.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling the full weight of his body down against you. You stick your hands up the back of his t-shirt, scratching your nails down the skin of his back.

“I need more,” you gasp out as he pinches your nipple between his teeth, rolling it in his lips. The clothing that separates the two of you feels like a prison. “I need to feel you.”

He pulls away, leaning back to perch on his knees between your legs. Your eyes roam down the chiseled planes of his chest until they land on the defined “V” shape that disappears into the waistband of his low-hanging pants.

He hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and underwear and tugging them both down past your ankles, then throwing them somewhere across the room with both of your long-forgotten shirts.

His eyes trail your body from your breasts to your thighs, his pupils dilating in the firelight. He splays his hands across the meat of your inner thighs, pinning your legs open wide for him. He lowers himself back down on the couch, belly down so his face hovers just above your pussy.

“Bucky, I swear if you don't put your mouth–”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle before his tongue slips between his lips. It darts to your hole, licking a soft strip up to your clit. You exhale a sharp hiss of pleasure, your hands shooting to lace your fingers through tendrils of his hair. You arch into his touch, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of your hips. He eats like you're the best thing he's ever tasted - like he's wanted this for way longer than this drug has been in your system.

You're coming on his face in an embarrassing amount of time, really. Thanks to the influence of the pollen, you currently have the stamina and endurance of a teenager losing their virginity. Your thighs are clenched around either side of his head, writhing above him as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

The relief that you feel as you come down from your high feels like years of pent up frustration leaving your body all at once.

You don't quite feel entirely like yourself - there's still a dull ache in your core, and your skin’s still feverish - though that could be due to the fire that the two of you are just feet away from. But you're now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Come here,” you whisper, your voice low and honeyed. He crawls over you, his chest brushing against yours as he centers himself above you. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat that mingles with your own. You reach a hand between your two bodies, palming his erection through the sweatpants that he has yet to shed. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as his eyes roll back into his head and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as you massage him through the fabric. Your other hand juts down to the waistband of his pants and you tug them downwards, far enough to help him shimmy them down to his knees.

His cock springs forward and he takes himself in his flesh hand, pumping his length several times before teasing your folds with his tip. He collects your slick along his length, lubricating himself before nudging his head just past your entrance.

You're more than ready for him - hours of desperation in addition to already having come on his face leaves you needing no further preparation before he's filling you up with his impressive length and girth. There's a slight burn at the sheer fullness of it, but there's also a wave of relief that your body has been craving for hours.

He pulls out halfway, then rocks back into you. He starts slow - trying to hold back for his own sake or for yours, you're unsure. Gradually, he increases his speed, hitting your cervix at that sweet angle that not everyone knows how to work. You lean forward, raising your head enough to capture his lips in yours once more.

You taste yourself on him - a dichotomy of sweet and salty mixed with something entirely unique. He brings his flesh hand in between your bodies, lowering his fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing pressured circles. You moan his name into his mouth and he responds by biting your lip between his teeth, his movements becoming messier.

“You gonna come on my cock?” he asks in a low growl when he feels your pussy clenching around him. “Gonna fill you up and make you feel all better.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge for the second time - that telltale warm coil in your belly bursting at the same time that he begins spilling his warmth into you.

He collapses, pinning you between his body and the couch beneath you. Starting at your shoulder, he peppers kisses along your collarbones and up your neck until he’s finally eye-level with you.

“We can do that again,” he says in a breathy voice, still inside you. “If you need to, that is. Or if you just want you.” There's a mischievous grin spread across his face and a twinkle in his eyes. It's the most carefree you've seen him since the two of you left New York to come here for this mission. You put your hands on his chest, jokingly attempting to shove him away from you.

“Oh, I don't think I need to,” you jab at him. “I'm feeling pretty great now, but thank you for your services.” He laughs, pulling out of you and sitting back against the couch. He pulls you up with him, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. “But I think I might want to again. You know, now that I'm no longer in excruciating pain.” He hums in agreement, stroking his flesh fingers across the side of your stomach.

“I'm glad you were the one here with me too, Bucky."

thank you for reading! i know sooo many people have done this trope, especially for bucky, but it's truly one of my all time favorites and i just needed to get this out of my system so i hope you all enjoyed

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

other works by me: oil & water • down bad • acquainted •

[bixels]

Now that Ghibli's new movie is coming out soon, I've been thinking about anime films and wanna talk about my favorite animated movie ever, Tokyo Godfathers.

TG is a 2003 tragicomedy by Satoshi Kon, following three unhoused people––an alcoholic, a runaway girl, an a trans woman––who find a baby in a dumpster and set off across Tokyo to reunite her with her parents.

If you like the sound of that, go watch it because the rest of this post is spoilers and I have FEELINGS about this movie.

URGHH, the fact that only two moments of true kindness, generosity, and care given to the three protagonists without any expectation of reciprocity are given by a Latin-American immigrant couple and a drag club full of queens and trans women. The fact that, despite her loud and dramatic personality, Hana is the glue that holds the team together and the heart of the whole movie. The fact that this movie pulls no punches at showing the violence and inhumanity committed by "civilized Japanese society" against the unhoused. The fact that Miyuki craves to be loved by her parents and ends up seeing Hana as her true mother. The fact that Miyuki starts off accidentally using transphobic language against Hana, but slowly begins calling her "Miss Hana" out of respect. The fact that, according to Kon, Hana's role in the story is as a mythological trickster god and "disturb the morality and order of society, but also play a role in revitalizing culture." The fact that Hana so desperately wants to be part of a true family, yet is willing to sacrifice her found family so they can be with their own, and is rewarded for her good deeds in the end by becoming a godmother. The fact that, throughout the movie, wind and light have been used to signify the presence of god's hand/influence (this movie's about nondenominational faith––faith in yourself, faith in others, faith in a higher power. Lots of religious are referenced, such as Buddhism/Hinduism, Christianity, and Shintoism), and in the climax of the film, as Hana jumps off a building to save a baby that isn't hers, a gust of wind and a shower of light save her from death. The fact that god saves a trans woman's life because she proved herself a mother, and that shit makes me CRY.

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[fastandcarlos]

Save The Day : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your shopping trip couldn't have gotten much worse, until a stranger approaches and swoops in to save the day

“Excuse me, is everything alright? You look in need of some help.” 

Your eyes flickered up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, noticing a man stood just beside you. You were walking all over the place as you tried to push your daughter’s pram, balancing your shopping bags in both of your hands, barely able to walk in a straight line as things stopped to drop out onto the floor. 

You smiled shyly across at the man as he picked the bits that you had dropped off of the floor. Once he’d put them in a bag he took the bags from both of your hands, walking by your side. Walking immediately felt easier as you focused on pushing the pram out of the store and over to where your car was parked. 

The man carried your bags with ease, the strength easily defined in his arms as he walked at your pace. You didn’t quite know where to look as you walked, feeling his eyes watching over you. 

“Where’s your car?” He asked you, watching you point to your small car that was hidden by a much fancier looking vehicle, a car far too expensive for the area where you lived. 

There was a shade of embarrassment in your cheeks as you walked, feeling slightly humiliated that you weren’t able to carry your bags. Trying to balance all the weight was hard, but you were stubborn, and liked to think that you could take on the world all by yourself. 

“I’m just here,” you told him, reaching into your bag for your keys. 

You opened up the boot, going to take the bags, only for the man to swerve you. “Allow me,” he grinned, easily lifting the bags and placing them in the back of your car. 

You stepped back as he did so, watching as he carefully let go of them. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that for me, most people just walk straight on by.” 

“Well, I’m not most people,” he told you, a wide smile on his face. “Most people are assholes, it’s human nature to help someone when you see them struggling, or in my eyes at least.” 

You offered him a grin as you unbuckled your daughter’s pram to start getting her into the car. “Saying thank you doesn’t really feel like enough, there’s got to be something that I can do for you.” 

His head shook, taking a step back and watching as you took your daughter into your arms, hearing her let go of a squirm. You hated taking her out when she was asleep, but at this point you couldn’t wait to get home and forget about your struggle. 

“She’s beautiful,” the man whispered behind you, leaning across and tickling against her tummy, bringing a smile to her face again. “I bet your mummy and daddy feel like they won the lottery with you,” he added, only to watch your smile drop, eyes landing on the ground. 

“I-it’s just me,” you stuttered, immediately hearing the man mumble several apologies beside you. “Don’t be sorry, I’m used to it by now. Most of the time I’m alright, the two of us make quite the team,” you smiled, not wanting him to feel bad for you. 

It didn’t stop the man feeling guilty for making his assumptions, sensing that you found things harder than you were letting on to him. 

As the two of you fell silent, your daughter soon began to get quite unsettled in your hold. You quickly tried to settle her, bouncing her in your arms, but as a gust of wind blew through the car park, your eyes soon darted onto the sight of her pram beginning to blow away from you. 

“I got it!” The man shouted, running down the car park and quickly grabbing onto it. 

“You really are saving the day for me today, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

He looked around and found the brakes of the pram, quickly putting them on. Before you knew it, he had managed to collapse it down, placing it into the back of your car too, making sure not to squash any of your shopping. 

“You must have had some practice doing that before.” 

“No,” he smiled back across at you, “but I assumed it can’t be too hard to figure out. I’ve not really got any experiences with babies, although I’d like to,” he carried on, surprising himself that he suddenly decided to confess such a thing to someone that he barely knew. 

You didn’t quite know what to say as he spoke, offering him a sympathetic smile. You weren’t expecting him to be so open with you, leaving you a little loss for words. You almost felt bad for standing in front of him with your daughter in your arms, as if you were showing off that you had something that he seemed to want.  

“Does your partner not want children?” 

His eyes widened at your question, unaware that you had dropped yourself in it almost as much as he had done with you only a few moments earlier, feeling bad when his head shook at you. 

“I don’t have a partner,” he told you, scratching nervously over the top of his head. “I’m going through life on my own currently, that’s why I have so much time to help other people when they’re in a mess.” 

“Well, you definitely saved me from one today.” 

He was glad to have been able to help you out, but now he found himself unable to take his eyes off of your daughter. There was something about him that seemed to be drawing her to him too, her eyes watching him closely every time he moved or spoke. 

“I didn’t even get the chance to introduce myself, I’m Carlos by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back across at him. 

“And who’s your little one?” He asked, poking your daughter’s tummy again. 

A giggle came from her that left you both grinning. “This is Luna,” you told him, “although I think you might be able to call her your biggest fan judging from the smile on her face.” 

“Well, I like to keep my fans happy, so do you think Luna would like to hang out again sometime?” Carlos offered, “I mean, only if that’s something that her mummy would like to do too.” 

“I think she would,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “and I don’t think her mummy would mind either if she got the chance to see you again, maybe coffee sometime?” 

Carlos nodded in reply to your offer. “I’d love to grab a coffee with you, well, the both of you. How about I give you my number and you can let me know a time that works best for the two of you?” 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you told him, walking across to place your daughter into her car seat so that you could take Carlos’ phone from him. 

His smile was wide as he passed it across, “make sure you text yourself from my phone so you have my number too. You can save my number as the guy who saved the day.” 

“You’re a bit of a hero, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“Well, I certainly try my best.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[p1astr81]

what are we? - mv33

in which: Max gets romantically involved with Red Bull’s new hire, changing his life for better and worse.

pairing: Max Verstappen x co-worker!reader

warnings: smut 18+, Christian Horner, cursing, time jumps, angst, not proof read, a little longer

wc: 6.9k

an: ib this fic

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ * ‧₊˚ ‧

The conversation came in late September. The air outside his Monaco apartment was cool. It drifted in gusts through the open window. His grip around your waist tightened when a particularly cold breeze creeped it’s way over his naked figure. His limbs, intertwined with yours, sought the warmth radiating off your skin. Legs mindlessly brushed against yours.

“If you’re cold, you could always put your clothes back on.” He chuckled lowly at your suggestion. The sound traveled smooth and slow through the air, like molasses. A verbal response never graced your ears. He settled for a small shake of his head, his face hid in the curve of your neck.

The scene, while grossly domestic, had your stomach curling into knots of guilt and despair. A feeling of inevitable calamity. The exact timing of it, you were uncertain. But it was sure to come, if not now then soon. Tomorrow morning, maybe. You knew putting it off would make it harder. Executing it was just as difficult, though.

It’s why you were both devastated and relieved when Max’s voice filled the air with the question. It forced you to have the conversation here and now.

“What are we?”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The first day on a job was never easy, especially when you’d been promoted from a simple marketing position at a small company to the manager of the marketing department at Red Bull Racing.

It was mid-January. Freezing cold outside. Your breath converted to a visible fog while you entered your new place of work.

The tour of the building was being given to you by a secretary. He was quiet. Only spoke when he needed to or to answer a question of yours. He led you to an empty office, nothing in the room except for a desk and a chair. Your first and last name engraved on a plaque glued to the door. Your fingertips ran over the lettering, feeling the ridges. Head of Media and Marketing engraved right above your name.

The secretary informed you that someone would be with you shortly, his voice mere mutters. You thanked him and he was on his way.

The room was spacious enough. Plenty to not feel claustrophobic but not enough to not feel vast. A small couch could be a nice edition. Floor to ceiling windows allowed for natural sunlight to illuminate the area. The view was okay. The street and parking lot to the left and a small patch of grass—currently coated by a thin layer of snow—right ahead of you.

A question of your name was called from behind you. You turned with a smile. “Yes, hello.”

Christian Horner. The team principal at Red Bull Racing. Of course, you’d heard what he’d done, read the leaked messages. You nearly didn’t take the job because of it. But it was your dream job, formula one. So a few morals had to be broken.

He smiled. “Good to finally meet you face to face.” He held his hand out to you. You shook it to be polite. “Christian Horner, team principal.” He formally introduced himself.

You remained polite as you followed him through the halls once more. His footsteps stopped outside another office space. A laugh was muffled through the wall. A man’s laugh.

Christian opened the door, allowing you to walk in first. Upon entering, the two boys in the room stopped their conversation, eyes boring into you. You knew who they both were. Liam Lawson and Max Verstappen.

Liam stood first, teeth shining as he smiled. He held a hand out to you and introduced himself. Polite. Max stood, but hovered behind Liam. He studied your form, your face, the way you nervously fiddled with the ends of your hair and tucked a strand behind your ear.

Only when your conversation with Liam ran dry did Max step in to introduce himself.

“Will you be traveling with us to races, then?” His voice was level, unreadable. His gaze jumping between Christian and yourself. Christian answered for you. “No. She won’t be needed. Most of her work will be done here.”

Max’s brow twitched, a faint line appearing between his two brows for less than a second. “Shame.” Was all he said, eyes drifting from your own to analyze the other details of your face. You tried your best to ignore it.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The following weeks consisted of introduction and the drafting of ideas. Your colleagues would filter in and out of your office, presenting vague ideas and handing you long winded proposals. Working in formula one was not nearly as thrilling as you expected it to be.

Your routine shifted one day. Your fingers were dashing across the keyboard, responding to an email sent from another in the marketing department. The door had opened, but assuming it was one of your colleagues you didn’t acknowledge them right away. You were too focused on finishing the email to even realize your visiter had made himself comfy on the small sofa.

Only after you hit send did you look up, slightly-irritated smile embellished on your lips. “Hi, sorry I was-“ the face registered in your mind, though it made the synapses in your brain backfire momentarily, your speech inhibited. Your expression bordered on confusion. When your brain finally caught up, the words that came out of your mouth were, “do you need something?”

You cringed when your own voice hit your ears, your tone suggesting he was bothering you. You fell into quick apologies. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that just… I didn’t know if you came in here for something from me or… yeah.”

There it was again. The anxious action of playing with your hair. His own face shifted. Amusement. He shook his head. “Just came to ask you how you’re settling in.”

The nod that came to you was like a foreign action. Delayed and not quite a smooth gesture. The prospect of Max Verstappen coming to casually check in on you was a little inconceivable, so forgive you if your motions weren’t quite fluid. “Yeah.” You blinked, then realizing that wasn’t really an adequate response, you continued, “It’s nice. People are nice.” You nodded. You found it difficult to keep your eyes on his. Perhaps it was the intensity of it. The way it felt like he was trying to dissect your every thought.

Max hummed. “Well if that changes…” the rest of his sentence hung in the air, but you could finish it yourself.

You nodded again, swallowing the lump of nerves in your throat. “Okay.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Max continued to pop in your office every now and then, at least once a week. You’d gotten more and more comfortable with each encounter. Conversation flowed easily now.

It was the end of February, the beginning of the season drawing close. Papers collected in a small stack on your deck, ones you had to look over before the media team left in two weeks.

“Come in,” you responded to the knock on your door, focus still on the paper in front of you. The paper was torn from your desk, your focus traveling with it. Your eyes caught Max’s blue ones and you scoffed. “Max! I need to finish that,” you complained loudly, reaching for the paper but Max pulled away.

You stood, rounding the desk. Max put his hand out to stop you while he read from the proposal. “…to improve engagement—hey!—and increase—im helping here!” Max laughed, arm extended with the paper out of your reach. “That’s not funny, I need to have that read and responded to by the end of the day!”

Your sides were flush against each other, your hand inching its way up his arm. Subconsciously, he pressed a hand to the small of your back to stabilize you while you stood on your tip toes. Max chuckled. “They’re all the same anyway. Boring for you to read and torture for me to do.”

Your eyes fell from the paper to meet his own. You became aware of the proximity then. Far too close for a couple of colleagues. You stepped back, cleared your throat. Max silently held the paper out to you. Graceful fingers pulled it from his hold.

As you sat back at your desk, Max remained standing in front of it. “I don’t think it’s fair.” He commented out of the blue. Your eyes found his once more, brows knit together. “What’s not fair?”

“Well, you do all of this for the team, and you don’t ever get to see the track.”

Your expression loosened, a breath falling past your lips, sounding like a laugh. “‘Cause my job is here.” You shook your head, finding his judgement a little silly.

A raised brow of his. “So you don’t want to go to the races?”

You dropped your pen, leaning back in your chair. “It sounds fun and all, but that’s not where I’m needed.”

“But if you had the choice, would you want to go to the races?”

You didn’t even need to think about it. “Yes.”

The next morning, as you set foot inside your office your whole body froze. On your desk sat a jar of chocolates. Passed for the weekend in Australia hung from the shoulders of the jar. You analyzed them, just to make sure they were real.

“Of course.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Max won that first race in Australia. A hard fought victory against Charles Leclerc. After the race you settled in the hospitality. People were packing up around you but you were stationary, answering emails upon emails.

You jumped when your shoulders were squeezed from behind. The sight of Max had you relaxing on instinct. He maneuvered his way around the table, taking the chair across from where you sat. “You should go out with me tonight.” He proposed.

Brows shot up, you choked on air. “Sorry, what?” Your laughter was out of control. Continuous breathy, nervous chuckles.

Max seemed to have caught his mistake, laughing to himself. “I meant— I’m going out to celebrate with some of the team. You should come with.”

“Oh, oh yeah.” You laughed. “Maybe not, though. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, yknow?”

All it took was one little teasing “come on,” and a dazzling smile to convince you.

Party was certainly Maxs thing. One too many gin and tonics and he was drunk out of his mind. He clutched onto your shoulder, yelled something close to your ear. “That’s great, Max!” You responded, a tap of your hand to his chest, though the topic of conversation was completely lost on you.

“Great?! No ‘thank you, Max! You’ve got a beautiful face too!’? Wow ego much!” Drunk max was a hassle, and drove you to drink with every teenage-girl-esc sentence that spilled from his drunk, scrambled mind. “Sorry, didn’t quite hear you! I’m gonna get a drink!” Max wiggled his brows, remembering how you swore you wouldn’t drink tonight. “Looks like someone’s going back on her word!” He laughed. You shook your head, turning your back on him to make your way to the bar. Max clutched desperately onto your arm.

In hindsight, drinking wasn’t your smartest idea. Because one drink led to two, and two led to even more.

The very next morning you woke up with a raging headache. The curtains of the hotel room weren’t pulled closed. The morning light invaded the room, and you pulled a pillow over your head to block the rays that desperately tried to bypass your thin eyelids.

The smell of the pillow filled your nose. But it wasn’t your own perfume, or the fresh scent of a five star hotel. It was cologne. Still smelling fresh. But undoubtedly cologne. The scent strangely familiar, but you couldn’t place it.

Your heart raced. You could feel as the thrumming of it pulsated up to the surface of your skin. The headache was fought off as you opened you opened your eyes, slowly and anxiously.

Eyes meeting the figure, a small gasp left your lips. You’d never identified a person so quickly in your life.

You began to panic when you spotted your shirt from last night, thrown messily over the back of a chair. A quiet chant of no, no, no fell from your lips as you scanned the room with a frantic, unfocused gaze. And the shirt you wore wasn’t yours. Red Bull branded. But not yours. “Fuck” you whispered, tears springing to your waterline.

Careful not to wake Max, you slid from between the sheets, gathering your clothes from around the room. While you slid your pants on, Max stirred. One leg in and one leg out, you froze in place. Thankfully, he went back to sleep, his breath returning in a shallow, even rate. You placed Max’s—now neatly folded—shirt of the television stand.

On the tips of your toes and as quietly as you could, you slipped into the hallway. You could only hope that his memory was lacking as much as your own.

Once back in the security of your own room, you fell onto the bed, closing your eyes with a sigh.

The next time your eyes opened was because of a harsh series of knocks on the door. The sun was brighter now. You’d fallen asleep again.

Tired legs carried you to the door, which once opened, had you frozen in place.

A claw clip was held out to you. “I think you forgot this.” Max grinned, letting himself into the room.

“That’s not mine.” You dismissed, though it was definitely yours. Max chuckled. “You left.” He stated the obvious, eyes drilling into yours. You leaned against the door. He stood across the room.

Your head shook. A mindless movement. “I didn’t think you’d remember either.” You muttered, facing your crossed feet below you. He blinked. Brows furrowing just slightly, complementing his small frown. “Are you saying you don’t remember anything?”

You stood up straighter, back still supported by the door. “Well… bits and pieces.” Your voice was small and you forced yourself to face him. His mouth fell open, gasping out a breath, his hand falling over his face.

Seeing his reaction, you quickly tried to ease him. “I’m not going to tell HR if that’s what your worried about.”

Max froze. “You think I’m worried about HR? No I’m worried about you.” He took a few steps in your direction before stopping himself.

Your eyes widened. Shock. You laughed. “Why would you be worried about me?” You were nervous now. Max seemed to be more confused than ever. “You… because we had sex, and you don’t remember it.” He started to pace. “I though you weren’t that drunk. You swore you weren’t that drunk. I’m an idiot, obviously you were that drunk.” He rambled to himself, feet pacing back and forth along the length of the hotel room.

“Max,” you called. He froze, face meeting yours. Concern etched on every feature. “Did I consent?” He blinked before nodding. “Then it’s fine. You have nothing to worry about” You shook your head

He became confused. “Nothing to- I practically took advantage of you, and you’re saying that’s ‘fine’?”

“Yes because I trust you and I know you and I know that’s not you.” You sighed. “It’s like you want me to be mad at you.”

Max turned away from you, silent. He ventured over to the open window, a distant view of the ocean. Perhaps he did want you to be mad at him. Perhaps then the inner turmoil would be easier to face. Perhaps then he wouldn’t feel so conflicted about you.

“I just think you should value yourself more.”

You looked up from your hands, gaze only finding his backside. “What, you think I don’t value myself just because I won’t be mad at you? We made a stupid mistake, that’s all.” You bit back.

A brow of his lifted, body halfway turned to face you. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He chuckled nervously.

The nod that followed was subconscious as you stared down at your hands once more. “You should go. I need to pack.”

He called your name, a tone that suggested protest. A look from you silently told him off, and he left without another word.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The following week you were back in your office. Max was meant to be away at a race. He placed second in China. You didn’t care. Sure it was a tiny spat, but it was easier to ignore him than face the repercussions of what you’d done. Max hadn’t reached out since that morning. So neither had you.

The day had droned on. Another Monday spent sitting in your office for hours on end. The tenth knock of the day interrupted your flow of work. “Come in,” you muttered, head rested in the palm of your hand while you read over your presentation for the thousandth time.

You hit the arrow button once again when a cough took you from your focus. You glanced up at the person, body straightening when you saw his blue eyes.

“Is there something I can help you with?” You remained polite and professional. You mentally questioned why he was not still in China, or why he was here at all. He wasn’t needed at the factory today. The question never surfaced, though.

Max let out a small sigh, standing across the room. “Look, I’m sorry.” He started sincerely.

“It’s alright.” You brushed it off, turning your attention back the the screen and hoping he’d fuck off.

“No, it’s not. I don’t think you deserve to just be a hit and run.”

“It doesn’t matter. I hardly remember it.” Your eyes refused to meet his.

“That’s exactly my point.”

You sighed deeply. “And what do you want to do about it? It’s in the past.”

The room was silent for a minute. Max thought it over, his proposal on the tip of his tongue, but he struggled to find the courage to say it. You studied him, eyes narrowed, trying to pick his brain apart.

“What about a date?” He managed to ask.

And you laughed at him. Right to his face. “You’ve lost your mind, Verstappen.”

“That’s not a no.” He grinned.

You huffed. “That is a no.” You shook your head, your words holding some finality to them. You returned to your work, thinking he’d leave after that.

But Max Verstappen is nothing if not persistent. “Why no?”

You looked up once more. The third time during this conversation. “Because it’s an HR nightmare. The second anyone gets wind that I went on a date with you, I’m fired. And I just got this job so I’d really like to keep it.” The eye roll that followed was a natural instinct.

“Then no one has to know.” He negotiated quickly.

“Why are you so persistent about this? I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

Max swayed on his feet. He didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one that he was willing to share with you.

“I’ll make a reservation at that stake house, cove’s, for 7. You can choose to show up or not.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It may have bothered you a little. Knowing that Max may have been sitting at the restaurant all by himself. The clock reads ten past the nineteenth hour. You’d been staring at the blank wall for fifteen minutes.

The two halves of your brain were at odds. Arguing for and against joining Max at the restaurant.

He’s all alone.

That’s his own fault.

Yeah but he might be upset.

His emotions aren’t my problem.

But it’s a nice restaurant, and he’s paying. A good meal won’t hurt.

You groaned, throwing the blanket from off your lap and making your way over to the closet. You picked a simple dress. Nothing too showy or extravagant. Attention wasn’t what you desired.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you grumbled, looking yourself over in the mirror. The small imperfections were screaming at you, a small frown adorning your lips. You closed your eyes. A deep breath and a sigh. A shake of your head. “It’s not even a real date.”

You got there forty-five minutes late. Max could be clearly seen from across the restaurant. A glass of water sat in front of him, only half full. Fingers tapped the glass in a rhythmic manner, intense eye contact with the contained liquid.

It’s not too late to turn around, you told yourself. And you actually considered it. But the thought of getting ready just to turn back outweighed any other thoughts.

When you approached the table, Max glanced at you, an uninterested look. Then as if the image registered late in his mind, he stood. The chair was pulled out for you before you had the chance to do it yourself. “I didn’t think you’d come.” He spoke in a hushed voice, almost like he was embarrassed by the fact.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

And that’s how it started.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

April passed quickly. Max tried taking you out on regular dates, though you argued. “It would be too suspicious. Everyone knows you like in Monaco.” He worked his way around your fears. He drove your car, which was not nearly as flashy. He covered his face as best he could to blend into the background. He stopped trying to convince you to go with him to races with his guest passes. “People will catch on, Max. Your fans are smart.”

So Max convinced Horner that you would be much more of use at the weekends. “It’s a much quicker flow of information, and she can be there to make changes on the spot. It only makes sense!” And somehow, Horner listened.

The first race of May, in Miami, you were there. Not just as a guest of Max Verstappen, but as a critical part of the team.

You never found out it was Max’s doing. He let you believe the promotion was for your hard work. You deserved that.

The Red Bull car, adorned with a big red number 1 on the wing of the car, was out in front. It would be his first win since the season opener if he could hold onto the lead. You were stressed, fingers twisting up in the ends of your hair. The strands moved like liquid between the gaps of your fingers.

Later that night, you happened to end up in a club, Max’s hands glued to your hips while you twirled around on the dance floor. “You won again!” You shouted over the music, arms tightening around his neck. “I think you’re my good luck charm!” He grinned. You shook your head, laughing. A sound he wished he could keep on file in his brain so he could listen to it on a bad day. “No, I think you’re just that amazing!”

“Fuck, you’re so amazing.” Max groaned, his entire cock sheathed inside of you. Of course you found yourselves back in his hotel room, making a mess of the sheets.

“Ah, Max,” You whined. His thrusts perfectly measured, hitting the deepest parts inside of you. “Faster, oh please Max, faster!” Words were a struggle to get past your panting. Your nails dug into his bare shoulders. He hissed, but the pain quickly morphed with the pleasure and spurred him on.

His teeth scraped along the curve of your neck as he sucked marks into the skin, trying to quiet his noises. “So good. Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, a hand guiding your thighs to wrap around his waist. The noises you released at the feeling of the new, deeper angle had Max thrusting his hips into yours harder than before. Thank god the headboard was bolted to the wall. Any consideration for the next door neighbor—probably a team member—flew out the window.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m so close!” Your hips started meeting his, searching for a release. “Please,” the word fell from your lips on instinct.

“So good. So perfect. So perfect for me.” Max continued to mutter praises, his hot breath fanning over the marks he’d just made. His hand ventured down your body to land harsh circles on your clit. “Come on, come for me.”

A high pitch moan added to the sinful noises already infiltrating the room, your back arched up from the bed, pushing your body into Max’s. “That’s it, come on.” He encouraged.

You came with his name on your lips, repeated over and over again like it was the only word you knew. “Fuck,” he grunted, you squeezing him, pulling him right to the edge. “Inside me, fuck, I’m on the pill.” That’s all it took for him to be spilling everything he had inside of you.

You whimpered when he pulled out, still sensitive. He apologized. Noting your closed eyes and your blissed out state, he carried you off to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet.

“You know, I’m noticing a trend here.” You joked after you’d recovered, back in the bed and lying against his chest. Your fingers idly played with his, fingertips running along his knuckles. Max frowned, though you couldn’t see it. “This is more than just physical for me. I really do like you.” His lips met the top of your head. It brought a small smile to your lips. “I know,”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Things were going well for you and Max. You kept it on the low. No one in HR had caught on. Of course, the fans speculated, but they had no real proof.

It was the end of June now. All day, Max had been praying to anyone who would listen, begging for a good result. It was Austria. Red Bull’s home race. He couldn’t let the team down.

Prior to the race, you stood in his driver’s room with him. He was all suited up already, you were only there to wish him luck.

Your hands ran down the front of his suit, palms settling on his stomach. “Have I ever told you that you look so good in this suit?”

Max chuckled, the sound a low rumble. “Only about every time I wear it.” His eyes, reflecting such deep admiration, worked their way over your own figure. The tips of his fingers dug into your hips, bottom lip scraping between his teeth while he drew you impossibly close. “And speaking of outfits, you look like a dream.”

You scoffed a laugh. “Really? In my business casual?”

He looked at you like you were crazy for second guessing him. “Oh, Absolutely.” He grinned, his hands coming up to move the hair from your face.

Just as his lips were about to collect yours, a knock interrupted the moment. Max jumped back, creating space on instinct. He looked at you with wide eyes, but you held up a single finger, your mind working fast to make up an excuse.

“Max? Can I come in?” His trainer spoke through the door.

You scrambled through your camera roll. You were sure there was some stupid media video you could use and pretend you were searching for his approval.

“Yeah come in,” Max answered, just as you were shoving your phone in his face. The video was just a stupid tiktok, one saved for future reference.

“So what do you think?” You asked as Rupert stepped into the room. The trainer looked surprised to see you, gaze flitting between the two of you. “Oh, hey. Wasn’t expecting you in here.”

“Last minute media duties. You know how it is.” You laughed innocently, causing Max to have to bite back a smirk. Rupert didn’t know how it was, but he nodded anyway, laughing with you.

“I wouldn’t mind it. Definitely better than some of the other ideas.” Max finally answered your question, a bit of a bite to his response. “Great, I’ll run it by the media team.”

Later that night, after the race—which Max wanted to forget all about, having gotten a puncture due to debris—you recalled the interaction. “You were jealous!” You insisted, laughing while he shook his head adamantly. “You didn’t see how he looked at you!” He insisted.

“Oh come on, that’s in your head.”

“Is it really? Because I’m almost certain he watched your ass as you left.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “You’re quite cute when you’re possessive.” Max cocked his head, trying to figure out if it was a compliment or an insult. “Thank you?” He said hesitantly.

“You’re welcome” you hummed, pecking his lips.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Summer break. It was much needed for the both of you. Somehow, you managed to take two weeks off of work. The time was spent with Max, somewhere remote and private where eyes wouldn’t be able to pry.

The air smelled of salt water, the strands of your hair soaked in the same water. The white boat floated not far from you, Max standing on the end of it, hands rested on his hips. He observed you with a fond gaze while you swam around, head dipped under the water and a snorkel peaking up out of the water.

You resurfaced, eyes alight with excitement. You pushed the goggles to your hairline. It made your hair look like a mess, but Max found it cute. You waved him over. “Come join me!” And then noticing his hesitation you added, “there’s so many fish! And some are so pretty!”

A smile creeped up on him seeing your enthusiasm. He grabbed his own snorkel from the cushioned seats and joined you. Who was he do deny your request when you were so animated about it?

You’d already ducked back under the water, too impatient to wait for him to join you. He understood your enthusiasm quickly. While it was no coral reef beneath you, fish still swam by, scampering along when one of you made the slightest movement.

A punch was landed on Max’s arm, your movements languid due to the water. He followed your pointed finger to find a turtle at the end of it.

His eyes found yours, crinkled in the corners from how hard you were smiling.

The same smile found it’s way back on your face hours later back on the boat. Max lounged against the cushioned seats, your body right next to his, upper body rested against his.

“I told him, I said, ‘Max is not going to like that idea, you won’t get the result you think you will’ and he replied with, ‘well then maybe max shouldn’t be such a baby about everything.’” You laughed, shaking your head as you recited a conversation from a meeting last week.

Max scoffed, feigning offense. “A baby? I’m not a baby about media duties!” He defended himself.

“Oh you absolutely are. You’re a pain to do media with, to everyone except for me. But it’s okay ‘cause I still love you.” You turned your head to face him, leaning up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. But a sour taste infected your mouth as your brain caught up with the words your lips had just spewed.

The contact was broken abruptly by you, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. Max just looked at you, his own gaze flicking between focusing on each of your eyes, one at a time. His brows were raised in interest, mouth slightly parted.

You found it difficult to meet his eyes, so you focused on the blue-green color of the ocean, watching as the waves folded over one another. “I don’t know where that came from.” You shook your head, voice small. “Just-“

“From your heart, I hope.” Max joked. You turned to him, seeing a cheesy grin on his face to match the equally cheesy comment.

A small yelp slipped past your lips when Max pulled you down again, his face inches from yours. “I love you, too.” He whispered against your lips.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

You’d truly never been happier. It was like you were living in heaven on earth. The smile on your face was permanent, just like how Max was permanently on your mind.

It was early August, the air warm but not hot enough to be unbearable. Your vacation just ended. Despite the fact it was an early Monday morning, you were smiling to yourself while entering the factory.

The first person you saw upon entering was Christian himself, standing in the foyer, leaning against the receptionist desk. “Morning, Horner.” You greeted, walking past him.

“Ah, just a second.” He halted your movements, voice sounding stern. Your heart rate spiked. “Come to my office with me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. You had no choice.

“Have a seat.” He instructed, an outstretched hand. You swallowed hard, trying to level your breathing. Your smile was harder to maintain now.

He sat across from you, at his desk, and pulled out a laptop. “How was your break?” He made small talk, but there was too much tension in the air for you to be comfortable. Your gut told you something was wrong.

“Great, thanks.” 

“And you traveled with Max, correct?”

Your heart stopped, breathing halted. His gaze was on yours. A borderline glare. You blinked. Lying was an option that turned over in your mind, but it was evident he already knew. It would put you deeper in shit.

“Yes.”

Christian smiled wickedly. “So you will be honest with me, then.” He said to himself. “And am I correct in saying that there’s something more than professional business going on between the two of you?”

It was easy to predict what would happen next. The very thing you feared prior to diving into this with Max. But he insisted everything would be fine. It was stupid to believe him.

“Yes.”

Christian nodded slowly. “I’ve worked out an agreement with Mercedes and Toto. At the end of the season, you’ll transfer to Mercedes as their head of Media and Marketing. That is, only if you put an end to whatever is going on between you and my driver. If not, then I’ll make sure you never get another job in formula one.” His voice was eerily calm, but the demanding undertones of it was what really put you off.

You nodded, a silent agreement to his terms. He waved his hand. “You may leave now.”

The door was as far as you got before he called your name. “And a bit of advice,” he started, a nasty grin on his face. “Don’t sleep with Wolff’s drivers, too.”

He thought he was being funny. A blatantly misogynistic comment, and he thought it was funny. You desperately wanted to chuck something at his head, but that surely would ruin your career. So you nodded once again.

You made quick work of getting to your office, hardly breathing to contain the tears. It felt like you were suffocating. The world was crashing down around you. You’d just achieved everything you wanted in life, and now it was being pulled out from underneath you like some tablecloth magic trick gone wrong.

Once in your office, you sat at your desk. Palms flat on the table while you took deep breaths. Trying to ground yourself wasn’t working. So you let it flow. You locked the door and cried into your hands. Your palms collected the droplets into salty little puddles.

And then there was Max. God, how were you going to tell Max? It would break his heart, maybe even more than it’s breaking yours.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

You pondered for weeks how to go about telling him. No way seemed good enough. No way seemed gentle enough. So you resorted to slowly pulling yourself away from from. The thought process was that perhaps you could ease him into your leave. That way, it wouldn’t be nearly as painful.

The constant distancing didn’t go unnoticed by Max. He questioned you about it multiple times, but you brushed it off every time. In the past weeks, you’d declined every date. You only talked to him when necessary. And even answered his messages with short responses.

Which is why he felt the need to drag you back to Monaco with him after Baku. You stayed in his flat for the week, so you couldn’t escape him even if you wanted to.

The very last night in Monaco, you allowed Max to have his way with you. Any position he liked, however he liked. You knew you’d end it the following morning. If anything, it was a farewell gift and he didn’t even know it.

The conversation came sooner than expected. His question had your heart jump to your throat.

“What are we?”

He wanted a label. Confirmation. You knew that. But you couldn’t give it to him, only to tear it from his grasp in a few hours time. That would be ten times more painful than what you answered with.

“We aren’t anything.”

Max sat up quickly, your head falling to the pillows. He scanned your face for any sign that would tell him you were joking.

But your face was cold, stoic. He became angry, face twisted in rage as he stood from the bed. “You don’t mean that.” While his face may have reflected anger, his voice broke like a small child’s.

Max thought you had something special going on. Something more than just a fling. But with the confirmation of your words, it seemed it was only that. A fling.

You felt vulnerable under his burning gaze, but you remained expressionless. “You don’t-“ he choked on his words. “you don’t tell someone you love them and then…” he shook his head. He couldn’t understand. “Tell me you don’t mean that.” He demanded, feeling totally defenseless, small, pathetic.

You blinked, finally an emotion coming to the surface of your face. Total despair. “I can’t.” Your voice broke, your head shaking on impulse. Tears began to bloom in your eyes.

Max turned his back on you, his shoulders heaving from the deep breaths he was taking. “You said you love me.” His voice was a near whisper, back still facing you. “Did you lie?”

You’d never stood faster, and you were in front of him in seconds. He stared ahead refusing to meet your eyes. You could see the collection of tears on his waterline. It broke your heart to know you were doing this to him.

Two hands reached out to him. He took a step back, avoiding your touch. “Max I swear to you, I do love you.”

Confusion and hurt filled his eyes when they met yours. “Then why are you doing this?”

“I-“ you stumbled over your words, struggling for an explanation. His brows furrowed. “You don’t even know, do you?” His tone was accusing, creating more distance between the both of you.

You turned the accusation down quickly with a shake of your head. “No. I just- promise me you won’t let it affect your work relations.” Red Bull was his home. You weren’t sure if you would be able to sleep at night if Max hated them after you explained everything to him.

His confusion didn’t lift. “What do they have to do with this?” Max hated feeling like he was in the dark, and right now, the world around him felt pitch black.

“Just promise me.” You begged him.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t know how, but Christian found out. He told me if I didn’t end things that he would make sure I never got another job working in F1.” You breathed a shaky breath. “I promise you Max, I do love you. So much. And you mean so much to me.” You sniffled. “But I just can’t give up my dream job.”

Max blinked, his expression softening. He understood you completely. If the roles were reversed, he suspected he would’ve done the same thing. Now the only thing that could be read on his face was great sorrow.

He sat on the end of the bed, the influx of information causing his legs to feel week. “How long ago was that?”

“Beginning of August.” You confessed.

“Christ.” His voice was a whisper, head in his hands. He put the pieces together on his own. It was the sole explanation for your distance, he concluded. “I don’t think I can function knowing you’re going to be there every weekend.”

The spot on the bed beside him was no longer available, having been occupied by you. When you put a comforting hand on his arm, didn’t move away this time. “Well, I’m moving to Mercedes next year.”

He looked up, mouth parted. “That’s… good- yeah I’m really happy for you.” He congratulated, and he meant it.

You laid your head on his shoulder. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have left, yeah?” You suggested.

A warm sensation bloomed across Max’s shoulder. Your tears, he quickly realized. He let his own flow free now, and agreed with you, whispering out a, “yeah.”

[bonchobrick]

So I’ve seen some posts going around about a ‘Bruce adopts Danny and everyone thinks they’ll finally have a normal family member—Danny is very not normal’ and here’s my late night take on it.

Or

Danny batfam au where they batfam tries really hard to keep their vigilante ass-kicking nightlife a secret from danny because he is ‘the only normal one in the family’ this becomes a problem however when danny gets kidnapped.

——-

The batfam all work together in a deeply serious family meeting to save their boy. After hours of combining their brains together they come up with a plan that will effectively save danny from joker, kick joker’s ass, and also make them look really cool while doing it.

So they bust in that warehouse, guns blazing, explosions fading in the background, a gust of dramatic dust covers the air

Batman steps infront of the rest of the team and demands to the blurry figure somewhere in the distance, “Where is Danny!”

The dust clears–they expect bad guys pointing weapons meancingly at them, they expect a cackle of a wicked clown amused at whatever plot he had planned coming to life, they expected a terrified boy perhaps tied somewhere likely siting in a chair that joker could present to the bats as a way of taunting them.

The dust settles–they observed their surroundings looking around and realize that, there are few new facts to be added into this ‘defeat the villain, get the bro, happy ending equation’

There is decidedly no weapons being pointed at them: In fact, all of the henchmen are already knocked out and tied up.

There is decidedly no evil laughs being echoed their way: In fact, the only noise that isnt coming from them is a light scritch scratch of a pencil

And there is decidedly no terrified little boy, there is a Danny however and he seems to be doing alright–actually scratch that.

Danny is doing wonders for the situation he’s in right now: In fact–

–Danny is sitting criss cross applesauce on-top a knocked out tied up Joker doing his algebra homework

The small blue eyed boy looks up at Batman's voice and visibly brightens, “Oh hey guys, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jason says with the utmost of comprehension, “...what.”

“So hi, I’m kinda new to gotham so sorry about beating these guys up, I think they’re villains? I dunno, anyways if you could take care of these guys while I call an uber home that’d be great.”

Danny sends them a blinding smile which would've been adorable if there weren’t a massive pile of bodies he were casually walking away from.

As Danny nears the exit he looks over his shoulder to the baffled group of vigilantes and blinks

“Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Could you guys not tell the Waynes about this.”

Damian speaks up for the rest of his frozen family, albeit hesitantly, “I do think they have already been alerted of your kidnapping.”

“Oh no that's fine.” Danny starts nervously, “It's more about me being the… fighter… in this situation. I was just adopted by them and they seem really nice, I don’t want to scare them away being all grrrr im a scary monster boy and i love to hurt people argh.”

“I don’t think they’d think you're a monster.” Tim adds quietly

“Eh, tell that to my birth parents–they went psycho on me. Like evil scientist psycho, it was not as awesome as the movies make it sound, having scientists for parents.” Danny says bittersweet as he admits with a shrug

There is a moment of silence as the batfamily reevaluate the adoption file that states Danny’s family before they passed were very good people–albeit a bit excentric.

Dick blurts out, “Where did you learn to fight?”

Danny sends him an anxious chuckle, “I actually started when I was fourteen–my town always ran into some trouble so I had to step up. It’s part of the reason I moved here actually. I really don’t want anything to do with that hero vigilante life anymore…” The boy puts his hands together in a pleading motion, “So please don’t tell The Waynes!”

Bewildered at the situation as a whole they nod in a daze

The boys eyes widen at their easy agreement and he grins, “Thank you so so much! I’ve got to go now, it’s way past my curfew. but you’ll probably see me again next time I get kidnapped–I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you guys with my family bye!”

And just like that Danny slips off into the night leaving behind a family who were so sure they finally found a normal addition to their pack.

Jason sighs looking forlornly at the spot Danny had previously been standing, “You could just never pick the just semi-mentally healthy normal kids could you?”

Bruce groans pinching his the bridge of his nose

[meazalykov]

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood. 

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot. 

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. 

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills. 

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail. 

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh. 

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk, 

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m. 

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest. 

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily. 

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual. 

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual. 

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity, 

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab. 

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking. 

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty. 

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink. 

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice. 

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave. 

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets. 

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors. 

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london. 

masterlist

[formulafics]

★ DO I WANNA KNOW? | JB22

Scenario: in which a series of unexpected events, starting with being stuck in the same hotel room with a single bed, takes teammates yn ln and jenson button from major rivals to lovers.

Pairing: jenson button x fem!reader

A/N: no one asked for this but LAWD I LOVE JENSON BUTTON. i had to do something about it 😔 shoutout to @renarots for supplying memes and 4 am brain rot that contributed to the making of this fic and most of my other ones too

NOTE: yn and jenson drive for mercedes (i had to do this for my own sanity)

racing_news

liked by buttonnation, sebrrari, and 12,432 others

racing_news jenson button responds to questions about his relationship with teammate yn ln following this weekends rumors.

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formulawrld idec about the rumors jenson looks so fine bro

formulavettel i bet seb knows all the tea about them. sebastian please spill

webbersebberf1 🤨 surely they could have just gotten another room? they have the money for it. idk, me thinks they’re dating and trying to keep it secret

⤷ ferrarilvr LITERALLY. you genuinely cannot convince me that they aren’t dating after this

⤷ shumione you genuinely thing they’re together even with how much they clearly don’t like each other?

⤷ ferrarilvr 🤷🏻‍♀️ things change and honestly i feel like they’ve had feelings for each other and just didn’t want to admit it

It had been three months since the “hotel incident”. Finally, you texted him. You weren’t sure what to expect from him, but you were ultimately relieved by his response, and didn’t wast a single moment on making your way to him.

With each step you take, a small splash sounds beneath your feet. Rain patters on the ground, and you pull your jacket closed in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold gust of wind that blows through the night. Each stride is powerful and determined - the truth is, you like Jenson. What once was a deep disdain for the man has somehow formed into a blossoming adoration for him. Miscommunications and mistakes lead you down the wrong path with him, but ever since the night of the “hotel incident” — as you, Jenson, and your team call it — you haven’t been able to see him in a bad light.

“Look, i’m sorry,” Jenson says, his expression softer than it had ever been towards you. You were almost offended, thinking he was about to try and make you feel bad, but that wasn’t the case. “You’re more than welcome to go - actually, i’ll pay for your hotel room if you want to leave, but if you’re choosing to stay, i’ll give you your space.” It was unlike him, at least, the him that you knew. He seemed remorseful and genuine, like you and him were anything but rivals. It made your heart beat just a little faster in your chest, and you couldn’t deny how strangely right it felt to be in the same bed with him. Even sharing the room was almost natural.

You turned away from each other to change, but both of you were guilty of peeking over your shoulder. Your eyes lingered for longer than you’d ever admit, but the same went for him. Neither of you could muster the courage to say anything, to address the tension between you both, and despite what should have been an awkward atmosphere, you both found yourselves comfortable in each others presence, even with the weight of your forbidden thoughts.

Not much happened after that, truthfully. Things did change though. Suddenly, his presence didn’t irk you, and you could never get on his nerves. You worked together more willingly, almost volunteered, and through those minor changes, you both came to realize how wrong you’d been about the other. Sure, Jenson had his moments, but he was sweet, a genuine and polite guy. You weren’t entitled the way Jenson thought - in fact, you were humble, kind…and how could he ever not see just how beautiful you are?

He doesn’t know the answer to that, but now, knowing that you’re moments away, he finds himself anxious. In a good way. He’s excited to see you, and he laughs to himself about how ironic that is given how he used to dread seeing you. A knock on his door draws him back to reality, and he knows it’s you. Outside of the hotel room, you wait impatiently, and breathe a sigh of relief when he finally opens the door. Instanly, like an instinct, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into his warmth. His reaction is just as instinctive, and he wraps his arms around you, guiding you into the privacy of his room.

For the first time, you talked. Not yelled, not argued, just spoke to one another. It was a completely different experience for the two of you, one that you never thought would come of your relationship, but it came to you naturally. The warm touch of his hand holding yours, the somehow assuring and slightly intimidating way he looked at you as you spoke, the way he didn’t just listen to you, he heard you. And, you did the same for him. Though he didn’t have much to say, you listened and heard, and soon, you felt as though you’d only just met him, yet known him for years. Not the rival Jenson, but a Jenson you could get used to, one that you didn’t back away from when he leaned in.

It was a small, sealing kiss that he placed on your lips. One to really ensure that all of this was happening, that things were changing between the both of you, and you both accepted it, with a weight lifting off of your shoulders.

mercedesamgf1

liked by the.ynln, jensonbutton, and 265,672 others

mercedesamgf1 last time in Abu Dhabi…

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hereforbutton okay but are jenson and yn dating? PLEASE TELL US

formulaobsessed ARE YOUR DRIVERS DATING? YES OR NO?

⤷ mercedesamgf1 🤭

⤷ hereforbutton okay so what the fuck does that mean

formulayn we do NOT care about jenson rn where is my wife

mercamgfan maybe this time don’t prioritize the inferior driver 🙏🏻 yn deserves her wdc

hereforyn i’m so scared that this race is gonna send yn and jenson back into their rival arc

⤷ jensonbuttonlvr NO WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT. i cant handle them going back to rivals now

⤷ ynsgirlie i know. now that we have them being nice, i can’t imagine going back to what they used to be

mercedesamgf1

liked by the.ynln, jensonbutton, nicorosberg, and 346,789 others

mercedesamgf1 OUR WORLD CHAMPION ❤️ an exceptional performance from yn today, and a well deserved win. thank you for another amazing year, @/the.ynln

view all 5,678 comments

the.ynln i’m gonna cry 💔 thank you guys so much.

formulayn THATS MY FUCKING WIFE IM SO PROUD OF HER

buttonynamg MY BABIES P1-P2 IN WDC IM SO PROUD RIGHT NOW

formulaobssesed who’s here after the post race interview? 🤭

⤷ markwebba I KNEW THEY WERE GONNA FALL IN LOVE

⤷ jensonsbutton bro jenson was heart eyes for her in the whole interview and the way he kissed her cheek when she started talking about their relationship 💔 he was so gentle

⤷ hereforbutton what got me was her getting emotional about the win and him hugging her like :( i was always hoping they’d start getting along but i did not expect them to become like this

🏷️: general taglist | @renarots @jsjcue @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @minkyungseokie @treehouse-mouse

[leonw4nter]

Look Into My Eyes and You Won’t Ever Have To Ask

DI!Leon and F!Reader

“Y/N, we’re going to jump into the water. We’ll have to brace for impact, you especially.” Leon informs you urgently as he clutches the top of his dislocated shoulder but he eyes your broken rib, obviously putting more emphasis on your injury even though both your conditions are critical.

“Will we make it with your arm?” You ask before wincing. “Don’t force it back into the joint, you’ll make things worse for yourself.”

Leon scoffs, a soft gust of wind leaving his chapped and busted lips that are somehow still curled skyward. “Drop’s not that high but we still gotta be careful and don’t worry, I won’t pop this thing back in place. I’m not that stupid.”

You two look down from the platform and into the dark and rocky water below; the drop is high and along with other metal debris falling into the water, jumping would be dangerous. The response team’s arrival can’t be estimated due to several factors so you’re not sure how long you and Leon have to stay out in the water; treading will be difficult for him due to his arm and it’s not going to be easy helping Leon stay afloat due to a cracked rib and what you’re guessing, a fractured hip as well. This mission has not been kind to you and him, the B.O.Ws involved seemingly much stronger than those you two have dealt with in the past. The mission was supposed to be a lot simpler, a “slip in and slip out” kind of mission but due to unforeseen circumstances, you two are now on a high platform with broken bones while dressed in formal clothing. There was an auction afterparty on a private island that you two had to infiltrate while posing as a married couple, complete with rings and an expertly-falsified marriage certificate. The goal was to grab the lone sample of an engineered Plaga strain to bring back to a research lab and have scientists re-engineer the DNA to try and weaken it. Sounded simple enough until someone’s advisor recognized Leon and had you two’s cover blown and now landed you two in this shitty situation. Mentally and physically preparing yourselves as much as you can, you two slip your shoes off and chuck them to the water to prevent adding weight to your bodies because staying afloat will prove to be a challenge.

Just as you were about to say you were ready, a Tyrant busts the door and spots the two of you. Not sparing a moment for you two to even think of getting ready, the B.O.W runs towards the both of you. Leon gives you a look and swiftly takes your hand, the both of you leaping into the ocean with eyes shut and breaths held. The impact of sinking into the water knocks the wind out of your lungs, cracked ribs uncomfortably disturbed. Your eyes open, greeted by the dark black blur of the ocean and salt of the sea slowly irritating them. You turn to look for Leon, fighting the pain of your injury and trying to spot him amidst the black sea. You spot a suit trying to swim upwards to get air and that is enough confirmation for you so you try to swim upwards to get some air and try to look for a chopper. Unfortunately, something tugs against your leg and it appears that debris has hooked around your ankle and is dragging you downwards. You bend down and try to wriggle your foot free, feeling around in the dark since you couldn’t see. Fortunately for you, you managed to get it out and you furiously try to get back to the surface to tell Leon you’re fine.

You gasp sharply and tread water despite the roaring ache in your arms and legs, your head turning here and there to look for your partner.

“Y/N!”

You heard a strained call for your name, trying to locate him amidst the splashing surface due to the pitter patter of heavy rains on the surface of the water obstructing your view.

“Leon!” You call out and try to swim to him but he yells your name in a perturbed tone.

“Big wave!”

You look to your right and see a large wave headed for the both of you. You didn’t have time to fully sink back down and so the wave tossed you, causing you to accidentally swallow some water and choke on it while fighting for your life. Could it get any worse? It could, since the Tyrant above you decided to rip the metal door off of its hinges and throw it down into the water above you. Tossed and disoriented in the water while choking, you didn’t realize that you were heading in the direction of a metal part of the door jutting out. You hit your head hard and fell unconscious, all the thrashing and efforts slowly coming to a halt.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon woke up in a hospital, his right arm placed in a sling and his other arm attached to IV drips. There were several electrodes stuck to his chest, connected to a beeping machine. Dazed and confused, especially with the bright lights of the hospital room, he nimbly sat up despite the dizziness that overcame him and got up, not minding if he was connected to several machines. The sudden commotion alerts the nurses on duty, rushing to him just as he reaches to remove the devices attached to him.

“Sir, please calm down–”

“Where is she–”

“Sir, you can’t–”

“Where’s my wife?!”

He had never yelled like that, not even during training when cadets couldn’t get their form right. Not even when he was frustrated with how life turned out for him.

“Where’s my wife? I need to see her,” he repeats less loudly but still retaining the same stern tone he used earlier. He isn’t moving as much but he keeps his eyes peeled on the door of his hospital room.

“She’s on the same floor, 3 rooms across yours, sir. She’s still unconscious the last time I checked so please be careful and try not to make any sudden noise,” a nurse tells him. He calms down, his body no longer as tense as it was earlier. His shoulders sink, occasionally moving his free arm so the nurses can reattach the electrodes that have gone loose when he moved violently earlier.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “And thank you. For telling me.”

“It’s fine, sir. You did that out of love and concern for your wife. You must love her very much if you lost your cool and acted irrationally just to make sure she’s safe.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.”

The nurses helping him simply smiled and continued making sure all instruments on him were secure before helping him back to his hospital bed and making sure he was laying comfortably and didn’t place any pressure on any other injuries he sustained. Before the last nurse turned around to leave him be for the time being to go call a doctor and have the doctor check his vitals, she informed him that guests aren’t allowed at your room for the time being that you’re unconscious. He nods, understanding since you did take a particularly dangerous hit to the head and nearly drowned. He sits in silence, head hung low as he looks at himself and sees his injured arm on a black sling and his suit discarded in favor of a hospital gown. Purples and yellows, along with some small red spots, decorate his skin along with new scars among old ones. Now that he’s more aware of how he’s feeling, he realizes just how much his back hurts and how sore his joints feel. He’s no stranger to an achy and sore body, especially after missions, but as his age progressed the pain seems to have increased along with it. He can’t carry heavy things like he used to and he now takes longer breaks to regain his bearings after training. His gaze falls on his hand and notices the fact that his ring is missing first, not the redness and the bruising in his knuckles on top of recovering wounds from the previous mission. His eyes widened, looking around for his ring until his gaze fell on the ring inside of a tiny ziplock on his bedside table. He sighs, a small lock of brown hair falling down and covering his eye. His mind drifts back to the mission and his small outburst earlier, flitting between the two events. He feels guilty to have taken longer to bring you back up to the surface despite the arm proving to be difficult to swim with. If only he’d already swam up to you and moved you two somewhere less prone to having debris dropped on, you wouldn’t be suffering a concussion. If only he didn’t resist having you style his hair differently, that damn man wouldn’t have recognized him and caused an uproar. For once in a long time, none of his thoughts went into whether or not the mission was a success; he was entirely concerned with your well-being as a nasty guilt eroded his heart slowly and painfully. He loved you, he loved you dangerously for he would do anything brash if it meant securing your safety at the expense of his. He cherished you more than the stars that the night sky offered for your presence outshone even the most stellar cluster of stars. He cherished you more than the serenity that solitude offered for in your presence he could find a peace that solitude could never offer him. He knew the lone and solitary path, having gone down that road almost all his life but when he knew you, he could never go back to living without you by his side again. Hell, he loves you more than he does with whatever freedom he has left after being forced to work for the government for when he’s with you, he finds the true meaning of liberty. For the first time in the longest time, he prays. He stopped praying in the winter of the same year he turned 21, the prospect of believing in a God and holding on to a prayer as good as stupid and a waste of breath. Despite his doubt with the heavens, he is firm in his belief that you will recover soon. In a universe where he sees no god, he prays for you for in you he has found something sacred.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He waits for several days and nights, occasionally getting up from his room to drag himself and the IV drip to the locked door of your hospital room. He tells nurses passing by that he’s your “husband” and that he just wants to see you, even for a little bit. The more he explains to nurses that he’s your “husband”, he feels like a liar. On a fake piece of paper, he is, but do you really want him to be your husband? He is far from ideal– he used to be a heavy drinker, he’s got emotional baggage, and a life with him would put her and possibly, your future family, in constant danger. He knows you’re very capable, more than capable in fact, to defend yourself but you can only do so much to defend yourself, you lying unconscious in a bed attached to tubes being proof of that. As he turns to walk back into his room, a million thoughts run through his head; he decides to tell you about how he feels and treat you the best he can, whether or not you feel the same way towards him. He’ll even request the D.S.O. to put both of you on a break since you both deserve time to focus on your recovery and pursuit of interests outside of work. He also considers writing a book to record his thoughts but considering the injury on his dominant arm, he realizes that writing will be a lot more difficult. On the steps back to his room, he also mentally lists down what he wants to gift you but he stops himself– realizing that he’s getting too ahead of himself.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Oh, he did react violently. Very violently.” your nurse tells you as the doctor with her takes your vitals.

You asked her how he’s doing as soon as you got up, looking around worriedly for your ring and your other belongings. The lights disoriented you for a moment, too bright for your pupils that are still adjusting after being asleep for nearly an entire month. You also learned that he got discharged 2 weeks ago but still came by often to visit you. He’s also been said to occasionally brush your hair away from your face and change the water from the vase and flowers he brought you a day after he got discharged.

“He was yelling, moving so much and screamed ‘where’s my wife?!’. Honestly, it was so cute!” she said with a wide smile.

“The entire floor heard him since he opened the door loudly and screamed even louder but he cared less, even if his ass is poking out of his hospital gown.”

You blushed at the mental image of Leon looking for you like a madman in a hospital gown where he’s naked at the back.

“He only calmed down after we told him where you were and he stayed in his room, head hung low the entire day and we all honestly felt bad for him.”

You nodded to her words, your gaze falling to the ring in the ziploc baggie on your bedside table. You asked for a phone and called him, telling him that you woke up and he can come visit you.

“He seemed really happy, could tell that wideass grin of his even through the phone,” you told the nurse and doctor while they smiled and giggled for you.

“Go give him the best kiss you’ve ever given him and profess your love again like it’s the first time!”

Their words made you blush again, only this time it’s because they don’t know you two aren’t exactly married. You two have only kissed once and that was during the fake wedding that the company set up for you two, present with a witness with no affiliation to any of the guests or you two. You’re not even sure if him talking to you was purely out of kindness or if he did that in order to keep up the image that things have not gone awkward. You’re even surprised Leon doesn’t seem to have been picking up the hints you’ve been dropping at him; for an agent who’s trained to be highly perceptive of people’s actions and body language, he sure doesn’t know how to pick up signs that you’re flirting with him. Unless he doesn’t want you. You groan and carefully rest your head on the pillow behind you but you stop, wincing because you just remembered you’ve got a busted rib or two.

A few minutes later, the sliding door to your room opens and in comes Leon with a bouquet of sunflowers on his free hand because the other is on a black sling. His black leather jacket is draped over his shoulders and he can hardly contain his joy at seeing you awake.

Placing the bouquet on your lap, he cages you in for a hug with consideration for your injuries. You swear you hear a soft sniffle from him and feel his body slightly jerk and as he pulls back, he’s got semi-glossy eyes.

“Y/N. Hey, how are you feeling?” He softly asks as he takes your hand in his.

“Feeling amazing. You?”

“Better than ever now that you’re up.”

“That’s good.”

A comfortable silence settles between the both of you, Leon taking one more good look at you. He thought he had a ton of things on his chest but that couldn’t compare to the amount you had on yours– literally and metaphorically. He breaks the silence first by clearing his throat before speaking.

“I– Uh… I got you some flowers,” he explains as he picks up the bouquet and shows some of the flowers to you.

He definitely picked it up in a rush since you spot a small card in the middle of all the sunflowers that says ‘well wishes on your new business’ in swirly gold lettering. You smile for the first time in a long time, finding the gesture to be sweet coming from Leon. He probably got it seeing as how sunflowers seemed to be a bright and happy kind of flower and he wanted you to feel even a little bit positive even in this condition and it’s definitely working but you still decided to ask him why he chose sunflowers amidst all the different pre-packaged flowers.

“Why sunflowers?” you ask as you gently inhale the scent of the flowers despite sunflowers being odorless.

“It only made sense for me to get these for you since sunflowers always face the sun,” he explains as he drags a chair to sit down on as he talks. “I go to you when I need help with something and you’re always there for me so I guess… in a way… you’re kind of like my sun.”

His words trigger your heart to ram itself against your ribcage, your heartbeat thundering so loudly in your ear as you imagine color furiously rushing to fill in the paleness of your face. Leon looks away, a hand making its way to the back of his neck and rubbing it. His gaze returns to you but his eyes shoot up to his brows, picking up your hand with a finger clipped to the pulse oximeter, looking at you worriedly.

“Your pulse is picking up. You alright? Need water? A nurse?” he rapidly asks. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

The pulse oximeter continues to display your heightened heart rate and you want to tell Leon that you feel fine– amazing even– but that would contradict with the reading of the device. You can’t tell him that whatever he just said made your heart race because you love like him so much, it’s almost embarrassing.

“Water would be nice,” you say. He gets up and pours you a glass of water, handing it to you carefully while keeping his hand near the glass in case you don’t have the strength to hold it yet. For the entire day, he tells you all about what he’s been up to while you were unconscious– the break that the D.S.O. gave to the both of you, the mission, his arm, his thoughts while you were gone, and a lot more things.

“Leon Kennedy prayed for me?” you ask in shock, mouth agape while still curled into a perplexed smile. “Leon ‘religion is beyond me’ Kennedy clasped his hands together, shut his eyes, and devoted a few moments of his day to pray for me.”

You laugh heartily, clapping along. You find the image of Leon praying to be a little funny, impossible even; you know about Leon’s past on religion and how he was a practicing Catholic up until the winter of the same year he turned 21 but it seemed so foreign for him to be praying for you. Little did you know, he found himself praying because his love for you taught him devotion in feelings more powerful than he.

“Shut up,” he mumbles while his cheeks burn pink. “Don’t laugh at me like that, at least it worked.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You told Leon about what the nurses told you about him nearly having a meltdown as soon as he woke up. You’ve never seen him bury his face into his hands and groan, leaning into your side and burying his face there as he pulled his leather jacket above his head and begged you to stop teasing him about it. It’s been a week since you’ve woken up and Leon’s visited you every single day since then, occasionally bringing personal items you told him to bring for you or lunch boxes he cooked and made for you. Bento boxes, he called them. He showed you the entire playlist of YouTube videos he made full of bento box cooking videos, some of the videos having the red bar underneath them.

“Rebecca told me all about them, said that they were balanced with everything you’ll need to recover,” he explained. “They’re pretty neat, actually. It’s fun making them look all cutesy for you. I’m pretty sure we’re giving the nurses a new reason to giggle every day.”

You smile as you take a bite of the spam, humming in satisfaction as the flavors erupt. You thank him for the effort he’s been putting into cooking for you, to which he smiles and nods to.

“Leon,” you say as you put the lid back on the bento box. “Um– I’ve… There’s…. I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?” He says, putting his pocketbook into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“We’re on a break right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He shifts in the chair and you begin to fiddle with something small in between your fingers.

“Are we still required to keep this up?”

He stays silent for a moment until you gesture to the rings on both of your hands. “Not sure but not until we confirm that the mission is a success in a briefing, I guess we have to.”

“You don’t have to cook for me, you know. The hospital makes sure to feed me everyday.”

“I don’t have to but I want to.”

“I’m sure no one’s suspicious of us being a sham couple. You’re always nice to me and it seems genuine so you’re free to go.”

“Y/N,” Leon begins. “I’m not doing this for the mission. I’m pretty sure praying for you isn’t required by the D.S.O. Before you begin to tell me that I’m being nice for the record, Y/N, I’ve never prayed for anyone to wake up from a coma. You’re the first.”

“Does that mean you love me, Leon?” you ask. You lock stares with him, determined to not let Leon leave your room for the night without getting a direct answer from him.

“Y/N. If you stared any longer and fiercer into my eyes a long time ago, I would’ve crumbled then and there and told you that I have always loved you. All this started from a deception but it led me to the most honest feeling I’ve ever felt so yes, I do love you.”

Silence befalls the both of you in the room, save for the soft beeping of the machines in the same room as you two are in. Amidst the silence, you two come to a wordless understanding that you two are in love and have been in love for a long time. A delicate smile points the tips of your lips upwards before a soft laugh leaves you, genuinely ecstatic that your feelings have been returned and he fiercely feels the same as you do. He follows suit, smiling and chuckling as he takes your hand into his and kisses the back of your knuckles, nuzzling into your open palm as you gently rub your thumb back and forth on his stubbly cheek.

“In a few years time, we’re going to replace these ones with actual rings,” you say to Leon to which he nods, silently basking in your beauty and in the joy that there’s a future ahead for him with you. A nurse knocks at the door, informing Leon that visitation hours end in a minute and he has to go soon.

“Well, looks like I gotta go,” he quietly says though you know he doesn’t want to go just yet and frankly, you don’t want him to go just yet.

“You’ve only got a minute left before you do leave, just wait it out,” you urge him.

Sighing but not out of displeasure, he sits back down and leans near you to bask in your presence before he heads back into his lonely apartment. An entire minute passes by and Leon begins to get up but not before you sit up, reach for the sleeve of another one of his many jackets, pull him down to your level, and place a hungry yet velvety kiss on his lips. His eyes are widened before he shuts them, his free hand traveling to the base of your head and gently drawing your face nearer to deepen his kiss. A nurse walks in again, telling Leon to leave since his visiting hours are over but neither of you are too stubborn to pull away and break the kiss just yet. Your hands finds a portion of Leon’s jacket draped loosely over his shoulders and lifts it up, shielding both your faces as you feel a smile widen on Leon’s lips fitted against yours. You two are definitely giving the nurses a new reason to gush and giggle every time they are going to see either of you. As for you alone, you’ll have some explaining to do to the doctor checking your vitals for the irregularities in your heart rate.

NOTE - I didn't proofread this so if you spotted errors then I'm rlly sorry because I'm lazy (💀). This fic is a lot longer than my other drops lately so I hope we're all okay w that!!! I've got like 2 requests in my Inbox so to my anons who are waiting, it might take a while but I'm def going to work on them and post something for you <3 Happy Pride Month to my queer readers and queer mutuals, you deserve to be seen, heard, celebrated, and appreciated!!! Support your queer friend or someone you know who is queer by doing something for them or getting them a food item that they like, make them feel extra special this month yk :3 Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!! I <3333333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @roseraris , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[strawberrytoki]

Closer than anticipated

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You and Spencer visit the unsub's suspected place of hiding to investigate, but his unexpected return forces the both of you into a cramped closet. The forced proximity then leads to an...accident.

Content: mentions of arousal, descriptions of murder

Word count: 1,247

a/n: I heavily imagined early seasons Reid for this one (specifically s2) Also this is heavily inspired from that one scene in teen wolf.

The clock's slender hands couldn't have been moving any slower, and the BAU's members couldn't have been more stiff with tension and anxiety.

The team had decided to send you and Spencer to Cedric Marlin's hideout, since you were both the BAU's most observant members, and the team needed every last bit of evidence to finally catch the criminal. He was the prolific eye-gouging unsub that the BAU was finally able to zero-in on after months of meticulous investigation. The team didn't want to make any arrests just yet, since they wanted a solid case, so you and Spencer were in charge of gathering as much evidence as you can.

The parameter was under surveillance by your fellow team members, and you and Spencer were treading lightly, slowly preparing yourself for whatever was inside this man's place.

You entered the premises, Spencer cautiously following suit. You immediately noticed that the house was dingy and damp, suiting its inhabitant. The stench of what you could only assume was rotting human flesh wafted throughout the house, causing both you and Spencer to physically recoil.

"We'll definitely find all the incriminating evidence we need in here." Spencer started making his way down the hallway, following the increasingly strong stench. He stopped at the entrance of the last room on the left and adjusted his glasses, mouth agape with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

You caught up to him, only to eventually mimic his reaction yourself.

"This must be where he keeps all his souvenirs." He inched closer to the stacked mason jars, filled with a preserving liquid and what you both concluded were the eyeballs of his unfortunate victims.

"unmatched depravity..." Spencer walked around the room in an attempt to find more evidence.

"Anything catch your eye?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ha Ha." He sarcastically chuckled, a playful smile sneaking up on his face afterwards.

The investigation felt like a twisted game, each time one of you found a piece of evidence, the other would somehow find something to one-up the previous discovery in terms of depravity.

After what seemed to be hours of probing into this psychopath's lair, you and Spencer figured that you'd gotten everything you needed, and were about to head out. Just then, the sound of a cacophonous creak in the door sent a quick chill through both your spines. You knew it wasn't any of your teammates, since they wouldn't break protocol like that, and they didn't need to.

If there's anything this line of work has taught you, it's to always assume the worst case scenario. You were a realist, this was no gust of wind. It was him, and you both knew it.

You slowly craned your neck to Spencer, who appeared just as perplexed as you were. His mouth was agape and by the calculative look on his face, his mind was probably running at about a thousand thoughts per minute, trying to figure out a way to get both of you out of this mess unscathed.

You stealthily maneuvered around the room to get a proper perspective on the unsub, and Spencer was right behind you, his calm breath landing near your ear.

He slinged his plastic bag, that you did not want to know the contents of, on the kitchen counter. He had a leather eyepatch covering his left eye, and his clothes were covered in grime and reeked of filth.

Much to your horror, the unsub started making his way towards your location, and you needed to think fast if you didn't want your eye sockets to be what remains in your casket.

"We need to find somewhere to hide before he gets any closer." You faced spencer and slowly started backing away, a worrisome expression on your face. Spencer nodded and carefully followed suit.

You frantically looked around, knowing that the time you had to spare was decreasing by the millisecond. Finally, your eyes landed on a small closet near the corner of the room. The door looked like it was on it's last leg, but beggars can't be choosers. You quickly held Spencer by the wrist, yanking him forward. Both of you then squeezed into the cramped closet, and were facing each other. Neither of you dared let out a sound.

Spencer didn't seem all that uncomfortable, but you still tried to maintain as much space between the two of you, since you knew how he felt about physical touch.

Through the cracks of the closet door, Spencer saw the unsub pack a larger ice pick than what he usually used to disfigure his victims, and a bunch of other weapons. "This is a drastic change in MO, he's either evolving or this is his endgame..." you tried to fully process what he just said as you nodded in agreement, but the proximity was simply too distracting. However, you admired how observant he was even in times of stress.

A few minutes passed as the two of you were observing the unsub, just then, you felt something relatively hard poking you, and as the realization that Spencer had an erection dawned upon you, you felt the color leave your face.

You slowly lifted your face to face Spencer, and it looked like he'd rather be anywhere on earth but here. Even though the confined space was dark, you could tell his flustered face was as red as a tomato, and he was bent on avoiding eye contact.

"I'm...so sorry-" he blurted out.

"It's alright." you interrupted him. You tried to ease the tension by reminding yourself that he had no control over it, but that only did so much. "I'll just turn around." You then shuffled around the very limited space to face the front, with your back to him. At least then, you wouldn't have to face him.

"Uh...that's not helping." You both scratched your heads in frustration and confusion. This was clearly not the time and place for such a bodily reaction and you both knew it, but you couldn't help but get flustered over it as well.

You then realize that the unsub must've been hard of hearing, as there's no way he would've heard all the shuffling and not done a thing if he wasn't.

Just then, you felt your radio device turn on and couldn't be more relieved. It was Hotch trying to get an update, and you readily filled him in. It was only a matter of time before they entered the premises with the S.W.A.T team.

You then heard the door being broken off its rusty hinges, probably courtesy to Morgan, and judging by the altercation near the door, you concluded that the arrest has been made. You then felt yourself letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and pushed open the closet's door, feeling a welcoming, slight breeze of air.

Spencer then reluctantly faced you, his cheeks stained with an adorable shade of pink.

You decided to help him out a bit and break the ice.

"This wasn't how I imagined this investigation would go..." you awkwardly chuckled as you both made your way outside.

"No...me neither." He looked up to the sky, his eyes slightly squinting. He was probably just glad this was all over, for more reasons than one.

You, on the other hand, weren't planning on letting this go that easily, and were definitely planning on taunting him by bringing this incident up in case he ever got smug with you.

[paige1722]

So Much for a Safe House

Summary: You go on a mission with 141 and end up taking shelter in an abandoned building. The place is haunted, and you are all trapped inside; creepy things are happening. (Ghost of War-inspired)

Callsign: Spark because it was all I could think of.

Warnings: scares(?)

Also, this is my first fanfic since my one-direction days, so please be kind. 

Chapter One: Shelter

In the freezing weather, you and your team hiked through the thick pile of snow to make your way to the abandoned house at the top of the mountain. Soap recalled seeing it on your way to the supposed enemy weapons cache in the middle of nowhere that turned out to be a dead end. Though when you all tried to radio command about the false information that it turned out just to be an empty plot of land in the dense snow-ridden forest, was when it was discovered that all forms of communication were not working; Ghost even tried scaling a tree with impressive speed, to see if a signal could be found that way but to no luck. 

“A few miles back, there was a house that looked to be abandoned. We could make our way back to it and come up with a plan there instead of standing around waiting to get hypothermia or become somethings next meal,” said Soap, his voice mumbled through the mask he wore to protect himself from the cold, making his accent more difficult to decipher. 

 Seeing no other option and rather than freezing to death, Price agreed that the best course of action would be to rendezvous there and wait for further instruction from Laswell, whenever the radio wanted to start working properly again.  

That is how you found yourself trudging through the thick snow in below-freezing temperatures for what seemed like 20 miles, but in reality was more like two. Once the abandoned house came into view, did you try to break the silence beside the occasional curse, that had fallen over your task force. You decided to theorize about the abandoned, dilapidated house that you could see in the distance, which quite honestly looked more like an asylum than a house. 

“So, where do you think they hid the bodies? The basement or maybe inside the walls?” 

Soap let out a breathless laugh, slowing his step to fall into line beside you, “Oh, definitely in the walls. It is like a given, right, horror movie 101.” Throwing an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you into his side and lowered his voice to sound more menacing, “The real question is, Bonnie, this far out, no one would be able to hear you scream.” 

Feeling a shiver go down your spine at the creepy comment, you turned your head to face Soap, seeing the crinkle by his eyes as he was smiling like an idiot underneath his mask. 

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him away, scoffing, “You spend too much time online, go and touch some grass.”

“Alright, you two, that is enough. We won’t be there long; just need to regroup and wait for the exfil.” Huffed Price from behind you both. 

“Sorry, Captain. Just trying to lighten the mood and distract myself from the fact that my entire body is becoming a popsicle,” you muttered while rubbing your hands up and down your arms, trying to get some feeling back in them. 

Gaz nodded in agreement, “I don’t care what is in the walls or the basement. As long as I can make a fire and get out of this snow, I will be happy.” 

Walking up to the house's main doors, you could see the state of disrepair everything was in huge holes could be seen on the roof where snow was falling in, busted windows, and rotting wood on the steps and door. Price grabbed the door handle, using his body to force it open. The door swings open, nearly falling off its hinges. Quickly, Ghost and Gaz march inside to sweep the area. Standing in the main foyer of the house, you got a clear view of just how run down this place had become; gusts of wind from the busted-out windows and holes throughout the house made an unsettling groaning occur. From where you, Soap, and Price were standing, you noticed that this place was actually a lot smaller on the inside than it seemed on the outside. There were only three rooms downstairs; it looked like a kitchen, dining area, and a small living room with stairs leading up the second floor right in front of the door. The stairs looked warped, like one wrong step, and you would quickly find out if there was actually a basement here or not. All that could be heard were your teammate's heavy footsteps and the groaning of the wood. You walked over to peer into the rooms Ghost had already cleared. From what you could see, the entire place was bare, except for the dining room, that had a few old wooden chairs that would probably break if you tried sitting on them, and a small dinner table. The kitchen had cabinet drawers that were barely hanging on its hinges with spider webs and a thick coating of dust on the counters.

“All clear up here,” Yelled Gaz, as he made his way back down the stairs, carefully planning where to step next.

 “Clear, first floor. Guys, come check this out.” yelled Ghost from the living room on your left. Side-eyeing Price, you all turn to make your way to where Ghost is waiting. The first thing you noticed was a massive fireplace; running excitedly and throwing your gear down next to Ghost’s, you stuck your head into the fireplace and looked up the chimney. “Let's make a fire before I become one with the snow.” 

Grabbing your shoulder and pulling you out from the fireplace, “First, you got to get out of the fireplace, Spark. Also, we need to find something for firewood. See what you can find while I get this cleared out and ready.” Ghost ordered. 

Looking around the barren room you were all currently in and not seeing anything useful but a raggedy carpet on the floor and scraps of cardboard piled in the corner, you make your way into the dining room. Seeing the old wooden chairs that had seen better days, “This will do, but first..” you grab one of the chairs and proceed to break it into pieces to use for the fire, by throwing it to the ground with as much force as you can muster. 

“Epic,” you say as you stare at the chair which has broken into smaller pieces, which allows you to be able to stomp on it, creating small sticks of wood that would be perfect for the fireplace. Reaching down to pick up the pieces to bring back to Ghost, a small notebook catches your eye, peeking out from underneath the dining room table. Grabbing the small red notebook and running your hand over the raised symbol on the cover in the shape of what looks to be an upside-down cross with a ‘c’ shape on the bottom, turning the book over in your hands to open it when you hear Gaz yelling, “Have you found anything yet, Spark? It’s bloody freezing in here!” 

“Yeah, I’m coming!” you replied quickly, shoving the notebook in your pocket to look at later, grabbing the remains of the chair, and running back into the room with the rest of your team. Walking into the room, you see that Gaz has joined Ghost in preparing the fireplace while Soap and Price are trying to secure the window with pieces of what looked like cardboard and duct tape, probably trying to keep the cold out. Once you reach the fireplace, you place the scraps of the chair inside while Gaz gets out his case of emergency lighter, which he mainly carried around for when Price lost his and wanted a cigar. He lights the piece of fabric Ghost is holding out to him to use as a firestarter; he places the lit fabric in the base of the wood, and you hold your breath, hoping it works. Seeing the wood slowly start burning and letting off a warm glow, you release the breath and finally relax, sitting back on your knees. 

“That should about do it. It’s not perfect, but it should help with the wind and snow.” Price said while clapping Soap on the back, “Now lets see if we can figure out what to do about the radio.” 

They both made their way in front of the fire as well, where everyone was now huddled together, waiting to unthaw from the harsh weather. 

Pulling out the radio, Price tried once again to reach Laswell, “Laswell, you copy.” crackling static was the only thing that could be heard in response. He grabbed the knob and tried changing the channel to the emergency line, “Laswell, you copy.” again, nothing could be heard. Sighing, he continued messing with the radio as Gaz tried to help, trying different ideas to make it work. 

Ghost had pulled over the gear thrown down and was rummaging through it, pulling out MRE rations, emergency blankets, and first aid; he looked like he was taking inventory of all the supplies we had with us and creating plots for us to sleep. As you move to make yourself more comfortable in front of the growing flames, you feel the small red notebook in your pocket. 

Pulling it back out again, Soap looks over, “Aye, what do you got there?” 

“Hmm, some sort of diary, I guess I found it in the dining room when I was getting the wood. It has this weird symbol on it.” flipping open the book, you and Soap start going through the pages, seeing lots of frantic scribbling that neither of you could decipher and pictures of what looked like some sort of creature, who only got more gore-filled as you filled through. It was difficult to make out the writing, but on some of the pages, it seemed to be pleas for help about needing to make ‘it’ stop and go away. 

You and Soap share a nervous glance, flipping to a new page; you let out a gasp. On the page was what looked to be a warning, ‘there is no way out, it has them, I can hear their screams, I am next….. Don’t let it in.’ 

Turning to look at Soap, you could feel your blood run cold, and you knew your fear could be seen on your face. Soap laughs nervously, saying, “It’s probably just some silly story trying to scare us.” Nodding in agreement, you closed the book and placed it back in your pocket, turning back to face the now roaring fire. 

Trying to distract yourself from the creepy notes and pictures, you start listening to your team-mates talking idly amongst themselves; whether it be trying to fix the radio or the supplies, you slip into one of the spots Ghost created and close your eyes, trying to clear your mind and catch a few minutes of sleep hoping everything would be fixed when you woke up. 

Price released an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up in the air, “I don’t know why the bloody thing isn’t working. It is like something is interfering with our signal.” He sets the radio down near the gear, Ghost had set out.

 He walked over to where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were sitting. He looked over to where you were sleeping near the fire to keep warm; turning back to look at his teammates, he rubbed his face, saying, “It seems we will just have to wait out the weather and head to the exfil point then and hopefully will be able to radio Laswell. In the meantime, why don’t we follow in Spark’s footsteps and get some sleep.” 

Ghost grabbed his gun, placed it in his lap, and moved to sit in the corner between the window and fireplace, “I’ll take the first watch. We still don’t know what’s out there.” 

“Or what is in here,” mumbled Soap as he and the others made their way near where you were sleeping to find a spot for themselves. 

Gaz cleared his throat, turning to Ghost, “Yeah, well, anyways, I’ll take next watch. Wake me up in two hours.” he laid down, pulling his toboggan to cover his eyes. Soap and Price following in suit. 

After about an hour and a half of nothing happening except the occasional groan from the house settling, Ghost notices the radio Price had placed near the gear begin to static; thinking that it might be command trying to get into touch with them, he makes a move to go over to it, but before he could get near it. A piercing sound comes from the radio, like a shrieking noise. 

Everyone startles awake, “what the fuck is going on?” you exclaimed, all eyes turning to Ghost for an explanation. 

“Hell, if I know, it was dead silent a minute ago, and now the bloody thing won’t stop making that noise. Somebody turn it off.” 

Gaz reaches for the radio and flips the switch on it to turn it off. When the noise stopped, a thundering bang was heard from above you all. It was so loud that it shook the walls, causing dust to fall down.

 Ghost reaches for his gun, as does the rest of you. Pointing your weapons towards the door, waiting to see if you could hear anything else or if it was just a noise an old house makes in the middle of a snowstorm. From behind you all, you hear the radio, which you could have sworn Gaz just turned off begin to crackle with life. Slowly turning around to look at the noise, a voice comes from the radio: “It is here now.” A cold wind came down from the chimney, extinguishing the fire and plummeting the room into darkness. 

Chapter 2: Hunter's Moon

[sexsylexi]

A kiss here and there

Wally West x Reader

The day started off like any other. You were in the mission room of the Mount Justice, waiting for your next briefing. Wally West, or "Kid Flash," as everyone knew him, was darting around the room with his usual high energy, cracking jokes and grabbing snacks from the counter. He paused for a second to shoot a grin in your direction. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could question him, he was gone, leaving only a trail of laughter behind.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Wally was always like this—cheerful, mischievous, and relentless in his pursuit to make you smile. You turned your attention back to the screen, listening to Kaldur'ahm, the leader of your team, who was discussing the details of the upcoming mission.

Suddenly, you felt a gust of wind, and before you could react, something soft and warm brushed against your cheek. You blinked in surprise, your hand instinctively flying up to your face.

Wally was back at his previous spot, casually leaning against the table with a smug grin.

"Wally," you hissed, trying to keep your voice low enough not to attract Kaldur's attention. "Did you just—"

"Steal a kiss? Maybe," he replied with a wink, his green eyes twinkling with mischief.

Your cheeks flushed pink, but you narrowed your eyes at him. "You can’t just—"

“Can’t I?” he interrupted, his grin widening as he leaned closer. “You know, it’s kind of hard to resist when you look so focused and cute over there.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, but you maintained your composure. "Try harder," you muttered, turning your attention back to the briefing.

Wally chuckled but didn’t push further—for now. As Kaldur finished speaking, the team broke off to prepare. You decided to head to the weapons room to double-check your gear, hoping to calm the fluttering in your chest.

The hallways were mostly empty as you walked, lost in thought about the mission ahead. You reached the weapons room and began sorting through your equipment, making sure everything was in order.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt a rush of wind, and suddenly Wally was there, standing behind you with that same playful grin. "Hey there," he whispered into your ear.

You jumped, nearly dropping the smoke bombs you were holding. "Wally!" you exclaimed, turning around quickly.

"Relax," he said, laughing softly. "I just thought I’d help you out."

You gave him a skeptical look. "Help me out? Or distract me?"

Wally feigned innocence. "Can’t it be both?"

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth in a quick, teasing kiss. He pulled back just as quickly, his expression full of mischief.

You felt your cheeks flush again. "Wally, we’re supposed to be preparing for a mission," you protested, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice betrayed you with a hint of a laugh.

"We are preparing," he countered, his grin never wavering. "I’m preparing to make sure you have the best day ever."

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that was forming. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it," he shot back before dashing away in a blur, leaving you alone in the weapons room, flustered and fighting back a smile.

The rest of the morning went by without much trouble. You managed to avoid Wally for a bit, focusing on the mission prep. But you knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to resist for long.

And you were right.

As you were heading to the training area for some last-minute drills, you sensed his presence before you saw him. That familiar rush of air, the subtle tingling feeling you got whenever he was near. You braced yourself, pretending not to notice him.

Out of nowhere, Wally appeared at your side, matching your pace effortlessly. "So," he started, "what’s the plan after the mission?"

You shot him a sideways glance. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see the playful gleam in his eyes. "Just thinking about how I could steal another kiss or two... or ten."

You bit back a laugh, trying to sound stern. "Is that your goal for today? Steal as many kisses as you can?"

Wally didn’t miss a beat. "Absolutely. I’m aiming for a personal record."

You rolled your eyes, but the amusement was clear on your face. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming?" he offered, stepping closer.

You tried to side-step him, but he was faster—of course, he was—and before you knew it, he had leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

You turned to swat at him, but he was already out of reach, flashing you a wink as he darted ahead. "Catch me if you can!" he called over his shoulder, his voice full of laughter.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you jogged after him. "This is serious, you know!" you called after him, but you weren’t really angry. How could you be? Wally had a way of making even the most mundane days feel like an adventure.

Throughout the afternoon, Wally’s antics continued. During a sparring session, he found an excuse to be your partner, which meant he spent more time teasing and dodging your blows than actually training. Every time you lunged, he would duck or sidestep, leaning in close enough to brush his lips against your cheek, your forehead, even your nose—quick, fleeting kisses that left you breathless and flustered.

“Wally, focus!” you exclaimed, but you were laughing too hard for it to sound convincing.

“I am focused,” he insisted, grinning. “Focused on you.”

By the time the mission started, you were half-exasperated, half-delighted. It was hard to stay annoyed with him for long. Besides, there was something intoxicating about his attention, the way he seemed determined to make you smile, to catch you off-guard with every stolen kiss.

The mission itself was relatively straightforward—a routine patrol in the city to track down some suspicious activity. You were paired with Wally, of course, much to his delight and your amusement.

As you moved through the darkened alleyways, your senses on high alert, you felt that familiar gust of wind again. Before you could react, Wally appeared beside you, his face inches from yours.

“Wally,” you whispered, glancing around nervously. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I know, but I just needed one more for good luck,” he murmured before pressing his lips to yours in a quick, soft kiss.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively leaned into him, just for a moment, before pulling back, your cheeks flushing in the dim light. “You’re going to get us caught,” you muttered, but there was no real anger in your voice.

Wally grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Worth it,” he whispered, and then he was gone again, moving ahead with that super-speed of his, leaving you flustered and smiling despite yourself.

The rest of the mission passed without incident, though you could feel Wally’s eyes on you the entire time. Every now and then, he would dart over, press a kiss to your cheek or your hand, and then dash away again before you could even react.

By the time you returned to the Mount Justice, you were thoroughly exhausted—but in the best possible way. You headed to your room to change out of your suit, but as soon as you stepped inside, there he was, waiting for you with that same cheeky grin.

“How did you—” you started, but he cut you off, his lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. This time, there was no rush, no teasing—just a sweet, sincere kiss that made your heart race.

When he finally pulled back, his expression was softer, his green eyes filled with warmth. “I’ve been waiting all day to do that,” he admitted, his voice low.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve been stealing kisses all day,” you reminded him, but your tone was more teasing than accusatory.

Wally shrugged, his grin returning. “Yeah, but this one… this one is different.”

“How so?” you asked, curious.

“Because this one,” he said, leaning in closer, his forehead resting against yours, “is the one I don’t have to steal.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you couldn’t resist any longer. You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like a promise, like the start of something new and wonderful.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, but you were smiling—really smiling.

“So,” Wally whispered, his voice filled with playful affection, “how’d I do today? Did I break my record?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “I think you did,” you admitted.

Wally grinned, pulling you closer. “Good,” he murmured,“because I’m not done yet.”

Before you could even reply, he captured your lips in another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate, as if he was making up for all the stolen kisses from earlier. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted against him, your heart racing in your chest.

You broke away first, breathless and laughing. "Wally, seriously, we just got back," you managed to say, even though your smile betrayed any attempt at sounding serious.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his grin never fading. "And? I’ve got to make the most of our time, right?" His voice was low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tried to glare at him, but it was impossible when he was looking at you like that—like you were the only person in the world that mattered. "What am I going to do with you?" you asked, a mixture of exasperation and amusement coloring your tone.

Wally’s expression softened, and for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes was replaced by something warmer, more sincere. "I could think of a few things," he said softly. "But for now, how about we just enjoy this?"

You nodded, feeling your heart flutter again. "I think I can manage that."

For the rest of the evening, Wally stayed true to his word. He didn’t stop stealing kisses, and you didn’t really want him to. Whether it was a quick peck on the cheek as he handed you a drink, or a lingering kiss under the soft glow of the common room lights, every touch felt electric, charged with a playful energy that left you both smiling.

Eventually, you found yourselves sitting on the sofa, Wally’s arm draped casually around your shoulders. You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. It was quiet now, the other team members having retired for the night, leaving just the two of you in the soft glow of the base’s dim lighting.

Wally looked down at you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. "You know," he said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I’ve liked you for a long time."

You turned your head to look at him, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his tone. "I kind of figured," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. "Considering all the kisses today."

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Yeah, I guess I wasn’t very subtle, was I?"

"Not at all," you teased.

Wally’s expression softened again, and he shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully. "But I mean it," he continued, his voice quieter now, more serious. "I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N. And I don’t just mean today’s fun or the flirting… I really care about you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. You reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "I care about you too, Wally," you said softly, meaning every word. "More than I realized."

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was slow and sweet, filled with all the unspoken words between you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you.

"So," he murmured, his voice playful again, "does this mean I get to keep stealing kisses from you every day?"

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. "I think we can call them something other than 'stolen' from now on."

Wally chuckled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Fair enough," he agreed. "But just so you know, I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon."

"Good," you whispered, pulling him back in for another kiss, savoring the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands held you close like he never wanted to let go.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt completely content, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, lost in each other, stealing kisses that no longer needed to be stolen, finding comfort in the closeness, the shared laughter, and the promise of more days like this one—days filled with playful smiles, quick-witted banter, and as many kisses as you both could manage.

When the night finally came to a close, you found yourselves curled up together on the sofa, the weight of the day slowly melting away as you drifted into a comfortable silence. Wally’s fingers continued their gentle dance along your shoulder, and you felt yourself relaxing against him, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Hey, Y/N,” he murmured after a moment, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

“Yeah?” you replied, snuggling closer to him.

He paused for a second, as if gathering his thoughts, then whispered, “I think I’m going to keep breaking my own record. Every day.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "I’m looking forward to it," you whispered back.

With that, Wally leaned down to plant one last kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, and for the first time, you realized just how right this felt—being here with him, sharing this simple, perfect moment.

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, you could face it, as long as Wally was there, ready to steal another kiss or ten.

[hd-junglebook]

It's Always Been You

Part 1 - Word Count 3670

Next

Masterlist

Jack and Y/N had been best friends for as long as she could remember, their lives intertwined like the threads of a tapestry woven by fate. Every day since their mothers met had been spent in each other’s company.

From the innocence of school dances, where the soft melodies filled the air and they'd sway to the rhythm, to the milestones of graduations where the crispness of their graduation gowns brushed against their skin, marking a new beginning.

His hand often found its way to her shoulder, offering comfort during heartfelt moments or playfully nudging her when teasing. Throughout it all, Jack had been a constant presence in Y/N's life, his laughter a familiar sound, and his touch a reassuring gesture.

Y/N's affection for Jack didn't blossom until their freshman year in high school—a tender, all-consuming love that left her breathless, her heart pounding at the mere thought of him. The warmth that spread through her cheeks whenever he smiled in her direction was unmistakable.

She found herself stooping to petty tactics, her hands nervously fidgeting as she whispered rumors about any girl Jack mentioned, her eyes darting around to gauge his reaction, hoping to keep his focus solely on her.

Her body language betrayed her insecurities, her shoulders tense, her posture slightly hunched when around other girls, trying to mark her territory.

She yearned for his attention, her eyes often seeking his across crowded hallways, her fingers subtly tracing patterns on her desk whenever he was near, a silent plea for him to notice her.

Yet, despite her efforts, Jack's gaze never lingered on her the way she longed for. To him, she was nothing more than a cherished sibling, a confidante, and a friend. Y/N's heart would sink like a stone dropped into water every time she caught his eye quickly darting away from her.

Her fingers would nervously twirl a strand of hair, a habitual gesture she adopted when feeling anxious or disappointed. She'd often catch herself biting her lower lip, a subconscious attempt to hold back the feelings threatening to spill out.

Y/N had always known that she wasn't Jack's type, but it didn't make the truth any less painful. As they grew older, the sting of reality felt like a cold gust of wind against her face, sharp and biting. Jack's dream of playing in the NHL became a reality, she resigned herself to the fact that his heart would never belong to her.

When he was drafted, Y/N expected him to leave her behind, to start a new life without the weight of their shared history.

But to her surprise, Jack begged her to come with him, to be his anchor in a strange city where he knew no one.

…

Everyone gathered around the television, waiting for the announcement that would change the course of Jack's life. Luke, Ellen, and Jim had done their best to ease his worries, their laughter echoing through the room as Jack rambled on, his nerves getting the better of him.

Y/N shifted nervously as her vision remained fixed on the television screen in front of her, awaiting the verdict that would change Jack’s life forever.

Her body felt heavy as she leaned against the kitchen island for support, anxiety mounting in her chest with each passing moment as their lives hung in the balance.

The tension of the moment was unbearable, yet she remained silent, praying that the outcome would be positive.

Ellen and Luke had gone all out, decorating the house in the team's colors of red and black. They had invited close friends and even convinced Quinn to come back from Vancouver to support Jack.

The cheering and applause filled the room as the result was announced, filling the air with excitement and joy. Jack’s voice rang above the noise, his eyes searching the crowd for her as his hands raised to his head in disbelief. She had never seen him this excited before, the thrill and joy radiating from him in a way that made her feel a strange wave of happiness wash over her.

The intensity of his gaze swept over the faces, his pupils darting from one to another, the crease in his brow deepening with each passing second. “Y/N?"

The room seemed to spin around him, the bright lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors as he desperately sought the one person he needed to share this moment with.

His heart raced, thudding loudly in his chest, as he desperately scanned the faces of his loved ones.

She was slightly surprised that he had even noticed her among the crowd of people. She had stayed relatively hidden away, standing quietly near the edge of the celebration. She felt slightly touched by the fact that he had called her out, a small smile crossing her face as she stepped forward.

y/n took a deep breath, preparing herself for the impact of his embrace, knowing that it would be both a source of comfort and a reminder of what she could never have. The crowd shifted around them as she moved closer to Jack, the people parting around them as they gave them space.

Jack's eyes locked with hers, and for a moment it seemed like the entire world had come to a halt. His eyes burned with purpose as he moved quickly toward her, his long strides filling the space between them. He slammed into her smaller frame, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist to stead her as he held her close.

She stumbled backward, his warm grasp keeping her upright. His body pressed up against hers, filling her senses with the warmth of his touch. As he held her, she could feel his heart pounding against her chest, the pace matching her own.

The sounds of the celebration around them seemed to fade away as Jack began to cry, his grip on her tightening as he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

The warmth of his body pressed up against her, the feeling of his warmth filling her with an odd mix of joy and heartache. She wrapped her arms around him, cradling him close to her as she held onto him tight, embracing his warmth as she savored the feeling.

"Congratulations, J," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the blurred celebration.

She ran her fingers through his hair, a familiar gesture of comfort that they had shared countless times before. The familiar and almost-automatic nature of the action made her heart ache, reminding her of all the moments they had shared, and all the moments they would never have.

 Jack squeezed her tighter, burying himself further into her neck as they remained in a close embrace. His breath came in small hitches, and his body trembled slightly against hers, the adrenaline still coursing through him while the celebration raged on around them.

He pulled back slightly, his hands carefully cupping her face. His eyes were red-rimmed and filled with a mix of happiness and something else that Y/N couldn't quite place. As he leaned his forehead against hers, his breath mingled with hers.

"I couldn't have done this without you, Y/N. You've always been there for me, through everything. I don't know how to do this without you by my side."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, the words she had longed to hear falling from his lips. But she knew that they didn't mean what she wanted them to. Jack needed her as a friend, a confidante, not as a lover. The realization made her throat tighten, but she forced herself to smile, to be the support he needed.

"Come on, don’t get sappy on me,” she choked out, her voice wavering like a fragile leaf caught in a gust of wind. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the salty taste of them already on her lips. “I'll always be here for you, J. No matter what."

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, a promise that she knew would only bring her more pain.

While party continued, Y/N found herself drifting further into the background, her silence a stark contrast to the festivities that surrounded her. She watched as Jack was embraced by his loved ones, their pride and happiness evident in every hug and handshake.

The thought of Jack leaving, of not having him by her side every day, was almost too much to bear. Y/N had always been there for him, through every triumph and every setback, but now she felt like she was being left behind. She wanted to be happy for him, to share in his joy, but the pain of unrequited love was a heavy weight on her heart.

…

Once the celebration at Jack's parents' house wound down, Y/N found herself standing in the backyard, the cool grass tickling her feet.

The fading hues of blue and orange painted a mesmerizing picture above, mirroring the tumultuous swirl of emotions within her heart. The gentle breeze caressed her skin, teasing the hem of her dress as it fluttered softly around her.

Y/N found herself lost in her thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, Jack watched from the porch, his own thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.

He observed Y/N, captivated by the way the evening light danced upon her features, casting shadows that seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle sway of the trees.

He sat on the porch steps, the soft glow from the porch light casting shadows on his face, she could see he was lost in thought. The glimmer of sadness in her smile went unnoticed as she watched him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the palm of her hand.

She settled beside him, their shoulders barely touching. Jack looked forward, his gaze piercing through the distance between them until it locked with hers. jack took her hands in his, his touch gentle yet firm.

"Y/N," he said softly, his blue eyes shimmering with innocence and sincerity. "I need to ask you something."

She nodded, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a drumbeat, the sound resonating in her ears.

"Will you come with me? To New Jersey?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, filled with hope and uncertainty.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around his, seeking reassurance as she searched his face for any hint of hesitation or doubt. Confusion mingled with amusement, escaping her lips in a soft laugh. "Jack, stop playing around, it’s not funny."

His expression grew solemn, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a depth of earnestness. His grip on her hands tightened as well, his fingers intertwining with hers in a firm embrace, grounding her in the moment. "I’m serious," he murmured.

"Think about it, we could leave it all behind for a little while," he continued, his voice soft yet persuasive as he continued. "I want you to come with me. I'll take care of everything, I promise," he assured her, his words wrapping around her like a warm blanket. "You won’t have to worry about a thing out there."

Y/N's mind reeled, trying to process his words. Jack proceeded to try and convince her, his voice filled with excitement. "Imagine the life we could have together, Y/N. A fresh start in a new city, just the two of us. We've always been there for each other, and I don't want to do this without you."

She searched his face, looking for any sign that this was a cruel joke, but all she found was innocebce. Her heart ached, the temptation to say yes nearly overwhelming her. But the rational part of her brain reminded her that Jack's feelings for her were not the same as hers for him.

"Jack, I..." she started, her voice trembling. "It’s so sudden and I haven’t prepared anything. What if we stop being friends or what if..."

He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. "Please, Y/N. I need you. We've always been a team, and I can't imagine doing this without you by my side."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N's eyes as she struggled with the decision. The thought of leaving everything behind terrified her, but the idea of being separated from Jack was even more unbearable.

In that moment, staring into his pleading eyes, she knew she would follow him anywhere, even if it meant sacrificing her own heart in the process. The desperation in his voice tugged at her heartstrings, and despite the agony of being so close to him yet so far from his love, she couldn't refuse him.

…

Y/N plopped down into her seat behind the glass, the arena buzzing with enough energy to power a small country.

It had been a year since Jack's draft day, when she'd made the brilliant decision to uproot her entire life and follow him to the glamorous state of New Jersey. She scanned the ice, trying to spot her best friend among the sea of red and black jerseys.

Tugging at the sleeve of her Hischier jersey, Y/N couldn't help but cringe. The fabric felt like it had been woven from a blend of sandpaper and poison ivy.

"Never letting Jack do the laundry again," she grumbled, glaring down at the oversized jersey that made her look like a kid playing dress-up in her dad's clothes.

Trusting Jack with laundry had been a rookie mistake, but in her defense, she'd been too busy juggling work and her new role as an unofficial NHL WAG (without the benefits) to do it herself.

The Devils had just taken the ice for warmups, and the crowd was already on their feet, cheering like they'd been promised free beer for every decibel they could produce.

Y/N spotted Jack skating around, his movements so fluid and graceful that she half-expected him to start pirouetting at any moment.

Suddenly, he glided up to the glass right in front of her, a coy smile on his face as he took in her annoyed expression. The girls around Y/N screamed, their shrill voices making her eardrums beg for mercy.

Jack tapped his stick against the glass, a playful gesture that made Y/N's heart skip a beat, "You're lucky you're cute, Hughes," she mouthed, narrowing her eyes at him. His grin widened, and he mouthed back, "You love me."

But then, his eyes dropped to the jersey she was wearing, and an angry pout formed on his lips. "Hey, that's not my jersey," he mouthed, his brows furrowing in a way that was both adorable and infuriating.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she silently cursed her face for betraying her emotions. If only Jack knew just how true those words were, and how much she'd given up to be there for him.

But before she could come up with a witty retort, Jack was off, skating away to join his teammates in their pregame rituals.

She leaned back in her seat, resigning herself to a night of itchy fabric, eardrum-shattering screams, and the bittersweet torture of watching the man she loved chase his dreams while she cheered him on from the sidelines.

…

The Devils and Hurricanes were locked in a fierce battle, the scoreboard showing a frustrating tie that refused to be broken. The tension in the arena was palpable, and Y/N could feel it thrumming through her veins as she watched the players slam into each other, their skates carving intricate patterns on the ice.

Her gaze was fixed on Jack, his #86 jersey a beacon amidst the swirling sea of red and black. He lined up for the faceoff, his body tensed like a coiled snake ready to strike.

Even from her seat, Y/N could see the fierce determination burning in his eyes, the set of his jaw that spoke of an unbreakable focus.

This was Jack in his element, a force to be reckoned with, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the sight of him.

The ref lowered his arm, the puck balanced on his fingertips. Y/N held her breath, her fingers digging into the armrests of her seat.

The arena seemed to freeze, suspended in a moment of anticipation that stretched on for an eternity. And then, with a flick of the ref's wrist, the puck dropped, and all hell broke loose.

The ice exploded into a whirlwind of movement, players slamming into each other with the force of speeding trains. Sticks clashed and skates flashed as they battled for possession, the puck zipping back and forth like a bullet.

Y/N's eyes strained to keep track of it all, her heart in her throat as she watched Jack dart and weave through the chaos.

He moved like a man possessed, his skates cutting through the ice with a grace and precision that left her breathless. Jack dodged checks and spun past defenders, his stick a blur as he fought for control of the puck. Y/N's pulse raced as she watched him, her body instinctively leaning forward as if she could somehow will him to victory.

The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity as the two teams clashed. Jack's face was a mask of concentration, his brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

And then, with a burst of speed that left everyone in the dust, Jack broke free. He charged down the ice, the puck clinging to his stick like a magnet.

Y/N's heart soared as she watched him go, her breath catching in her throat as he bore down on the Hurricane's goalie. This was it, the moment they'd all been waiting for, the chance to break the tie and seal the victory.

Y/N gripped the armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her entire body tensed as she watched Jack close in on the net. The arena held its breath, every eye glued to the ice as the drama unfolded. And then, with a flick of his wrist that was almost too fast to see, Jack sent the puck flying, a black blur streaking towards the goal.

The final buzzer sounded, and the Devils left the ice victorious. She made her way down to the locker room, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't wait to see him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him how proud she was.

…

Her heart skipped a beat as Jack walked into the locker room, his eyes instantly locking with hers. The rest of the world seemed to fade away as he made his way towards her, his tall frame towering over her smaller one. His hair, still damp from the postgame shower, fell into his face in an unruly mess that somehow only added to his charm.

"Hey, pretty girl," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. The term of endearment rolled off his tongue with an ease that spoke of familiarity, and Y/N couldn't help but melt a little at the sound of it.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Hi, love," she whispered back, the words feeling both natural and thrilling at the same time. Around them, the locker room buzzed with activity as Jack's teammates celebrated their hard-fought victory.

"You were amazing out there," she murmured, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I'm so proud of you, Jack."

He grinned down at her, his eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and adoration. "I couldn't have done it without you, Y/N. Knowing you were up there, cheering me on... it means everything to me."

Y/N's heart swelled at his words, a lump forming in her throat.

She felt like she was floating on cloud nine, until the sound of footsteps echoed through the locker room, and Y/N felt Jack stiffen in her arms. Reluctantly, she pulled away, her eyes fluttering open just in time to see a tall, stunning woman enter the room.

The newcomer was breathtaking, with golden hair that seemed to shimmer under the fluorescent lights. She moved with a grace and confidence that was almost otherworldly, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy in her presence.

It was like looking at a living, breathing goddess, someone who belonged on the pages of a magazine or the silver screen.

As the woman drew closer, Y/N's heart began to race, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced up at Jack, searching his face for any sign of recognition or explanation, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the approaching figure.

The woman came to a stop beside them, her full lips curving into a smile that was both dazzling and unsettling. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she took in the newcomer's flawless features, her porcelain skin and piercing blue eyes. It was like staring into the face of perfection, and Y/N felt a sudden, irrational surge of jealousy and fear.

"Jack," the woman purred, her voice like honey and silk. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Y/N's world tilted on its axis, her mind reeling as she tried to process the implications of the woman's words. Who was she? What did she want with Jack? And why did Y/N suddenly feel like an intruder in her own love story?

The air felt heavy with tension and unspoken secrets, and Y/N's heart raced as she struggled to make sense of it all.

She looked up at Jack again, silently pleading for an explanation, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. Instead, he cleared his throat, his voice strained as he replied, "Daph. What are you doing here?"

The woman – Daph, likely Daphne - laughed, the sound like tinkling bells. "Can't a girl surprise her boyfriend after a big game?"

And with those words, Y/N's world shattered, the pieces falling around her like shards of broken glass. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

…

@ivy-34 @rebelatbay

[ackermonie]

a perfect world pt.2

pt1

tags: @mor-pheus @nitimurinvetitumsposts @pompompompompompompom

content: shibuya incident, pregnant! reader, hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, angst, mentions of abortion, gojo wanting to be a dad in the future, reader hides pregnancy, mentions of megumi

it’s a bit chilly. you stand in the unusual silence of the square usually buzzing with life, especially on halloween night, positioned on a pedestrian bridge.

there is something pinning you in place. you feel heavy, never enough oxygen in your lungs. you have a few minutes before you need to meet with your team-mates, so this is the last bit of peace you will get for a while.

you try to ignore the burden lying within you. guilts seeps in your brain at the thought that it is a burden, because fuck, you’re never the person to call a child, let alone the product of you and satoru’s love, a burden.

but right now? when you’re about to lay your life in a fight you don’t even know you’ll survive?

a sense of protection overtakes you, surging panic through your very veins, urging you to just fucking flee. you don’t have a good feeling about this mission.

you lowkey hoped that he’d find you before it all goes down. you didnt have the time to meet after your big revelation, only having time to throw in a couple of “stay safe”s through text, but at a time like this, when everyone inside the veil is asking for the gojo satoru, you doubted he’d have time for you.

however, a gust of wind proves you wrong. you don’t move, looking over the railing still as the atmosphere buzzes with the pure powerful energy that is your satoru.

your heart drops when first thing he does is wrap his arms around you from behind, a hand settling on your belly.

“pissing all by yourself, handsome?”

you genuinely can’t help the giggle pulled out of you, no matter how short-lived it is. he rests his chin on the top of your head, and you tilt your gaze down to settle on the instinctive hand resting protectively where a whole new life is being created. you hesitantly put your hand on top of his, a shaky breath escaping your lips at your first attempt of acknowledging the slightest of bumps under your hands.

“is this your post?” satoru asks quietly.

“no,” you intertwine your fingers with his. the sadness in your bone at a loss that is yet to happen heavies you some more. this embryo's story is bound to end before it even begins. “i’m with nanami and megumi outside the veil.”

“i heard nanami’s bringing ino around for his grade 1 recommendation,” gojo builds a conversation. he lowers his head to your shoulder, turning his head to plant a sweet, lingering kiss on hour neck. “that’s bound to be a good watch party.”

“ino’s talented.” you reply, voice empty, mind elsewhere. “it’s about time.”

you two stay quiet for a few seconds, looking out on your comrades at a distance. the gnawing in your chest opens it up, convincing you that if satoru lets you go the world will cease to exist.

you grasp his right bicep with your left hand, pulling you both more into one another. he doesn’t move his hand from your belly, and you are almost convinced that he just fucking knows somehow. self-conscious, you turn around in his arms, allowing him to hold you to his chest instead.

your arms are tugged in between you two, and from another angle, it will look like satoru has engulfed your body whole into his.

“oh, my baby,” you can hear the smile in his voice while your eyes brim with tears. “we’ll be fine. quick in and out.”

you try to nod in his chest, but a sob involuntarily breaks out of your lips. he rocks you side to side silently, sighing in what sounds like absolute content to your ears.

you’re not crying because of the mission, you’re never like this.

everything is happening at once. you can’t even breathe properly unless his arms are around you.

“good thing you’re with megumi,” he rests his chin on the crown of your head again. “if that fucker decides to summon mahogara one more time—“

your sob breaks into laughter. you hit him on the chest.

satoru laughs along with you. “he’s so dramatic sometimes. i wonder who is he like.”

you look up at him, face red and tear-stained and all, with a deadpan that makes him want to kiss you silly. he continues laughing, and you realize that his blindfold hangs around his neck, allowing you to see just how big his smile is. dimples on display and eyes closed in absolute bliss. you want to grab him and run.

he grabs your cheeks endearingly, resting his forehead on yours. “I think we did a good job raising him, no?”

oh god.

more tears brim in your eyes as he tilts his head back to properly look at you. you attempt to smile as you nod, but the thoughts his previous statement triggered chokes you. you are, once again, reminded of what lies in the space between the two of you.

and by the look in his eyes, you know what he will say next will break you.

“good practice run. little fucker is at maximum difficulty.” he plants a kiss to your nose. “I never thought i'd be dad material, really. but having those kids around recently,” satoru pauses, wiping a thumb gently on your cheek. "seeing you with them, made me wonder how nice it'd be to have some of our own at some point."

“satoru,” your voice breaks, unable to control the sad expression on your face any longer. one of your hands holds his as he still cradles your cheeks.

"we just need to finish all of this." satoru smiles down at you. "make this world better for them. make it safe for them to grow without trouble."

your arms are suddenly thrown around his neck, and his own scoops you from the ground, pulling you as close as it is humanly possible. you hide your face in his neck, failing to conceal your sobs.

he chuckles a bit, but this time around, you can tell the heaviness that lies within. "come on, sweets. if i knew i'd make you this sad--"

you shake your head almost frantically. "n--no."

“you can cry to me all you want after we’re done,” he gives you a squeeze before he sets you down on the floor. he tilts your head up to him, wiping away your face with the material of his sleeves. “don’t get too shaken up before a fight now, okay?”

you nod almost childishly before he plants a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead

“you have both megumi and nanami. you three will be just fine. i know you cant take care of each other and get the job done.”

“who’s gonna take care of you?” the look on your face shatter’s satoru’s heart. he still smiles, wiping his thumb under your eye.

“you will,” he grins. “i’ll come back right here, and you’ll take care of me just fine.”

=============================

i thhiinnnkkk im making more parts of this teheee

more?

[the-offside-rule]

Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona) - Secreto

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: mentions of injury

Pedri adjusted the collar of his new Barcelona jersey, feeling the weight of the photoshoot ahead. He rarely interacted with the women’s team, but today was different. They’d all been brought together to model the new 2024/25 jerseys. His mind raced, though, not because of the cameras but because of one person who’d be there; Y/n.

He’d met her briefly during his time at Las Palmas, back when they were both just kids with dreams. She was an incredible player, her talent undeniable, but what enchanted him most was her laugh and the way her eyes lit up when she talked. Back then, she seemed interested in one of his teammates, so he kept his distance. But now, fate had intervened. Y/n was back in Barcelona after her loan spell, and he couldn’t let this opportunity slip.

As he stepped into the studio, he spotted her instantly. Y/n was with her teammate Jana, the two of them laughing over some inside joke. Her laughter rang through the room, and for a moment, Pedri forgot how to breathe. Gavi nudged him. "Qué pasa contigo? Pareces un tonto." (What's wrong with you? You look like a fool.)

"Cállate." (Shut up.) Pedri muttered, his cheeks flushing. They walked over to the pair, and Pedri’s heart raced as Y/n glanced up at him. When she smiled, he felt his knees weaken. "Hola, Pepi." She said, her voice light and teasing. "Hola, Y/n." He managed to say, his voice quieter than he intended. "Estás listo para ser modelo?" (Are you ready to be a model?) Jana joked, nudging Y/n. "Y tu? Siempre pareces preparada." (And you? You always look ready.) Gavi shot back, making everyone laugh.

Y/n smiled over at Pedri, her gaze lingering just long enough to make his heart stutter. He felt like the world had tilted slightly on its axis. The director clapped his hands. "Vamos, chicos! Necesitamos que se vean naturales. Rían, hablen, pásenla bien." (Come on, guys! We need you to look natural. Laugh, talk, have fun.)

They were paired together for the first set of photos, standing side by side in front of the camera. Gavi and Jana stood off to the side, watching through the monitor. "Enntonces, cómo te ha ido desde Las Palmas?" (So, how have you been since Las Palmas?) Pedri asked, his voice a little shaky.

"Bastante bien. Aunque no pensé que te volvería a ver tan pronto." (Pretty good. Though, I didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon.) She replied, smiling. "Yo tampoco. Pero me alegra que estés aquí." (Me neither, but I'm happy you're here." He said softly, his nerves beginning to fade. Her smile widened. "Ah, sí? Por qué?" (Oh, yeah? Why?)

"Porque nunca tuve la oportunidad de hablar contigo antes." (Because I never got the chance tk talk to you before." He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. She looked at him, slightly surprised but amused. "Eso es un cumplido o una confesión?" (Is that a compliment or a confession?)

"Ambos." (Both.) He said with a grin, making her laugh. The director called out again, encouraging them to keep the natural energy. Pedri gathered his courage. "Después de esto, te gustaría ir a comer algo?" (After this, would you like to grab some food?) Y/n’s laughter caught him off guard. His chest tightened, assuming the worst, but then she saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes and quickly clarified.

"Claro que sí! Solo no esperaba que tardaras tanto en preguntarme." (I just didnt expect you to take so long to ask.) She said, her tone playful. Pedri blinked, then broke into a wide grin. "En serio?" (Really?)

"Sí. No seas tan nervioso." Yes. Don't be so nervous.) She teased, her laugh softening any sting. They both laughed, the sound genuine and warm. The photographer captured the moment, snapping the perfect natural shot. Gavi and Jana exchanged knowing looks from behind the camera.

As the photoshoot wrapped up, Pedri leaned closer to Y/n. "Espero que te guste la comida que elija." (I hope you like the food I pick.) He whispered. "Seguro que sí." (I'm sure I will.) She said, smiling up at him.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The energy at Estadi Johan Cruyff was electric. The women’s clásico between Barcelona and Madrid was always intense, and today was no exception. Pedri sat in the stands with Gavi and a few other teammates, his heart pounding—not just because of the game, but because of her. Y/n. She was playing brilliantly, as always, darting across the pitch with precision and control. To the world, she was just another talented player, but to Pedri, she was so much more. The secret they shared made every stolen glance and subtle interaction all the more thrilling.

"Tranquilo, hermano." Gavi teased, noticing how focused Pedri was on her. Pedri didn’t respond, his eyes glued to the match. The tension peaked when a Madrid player lunged into a reckless slide tackle, sending Y/n crashing to the ground. Pedri stood up instantly, his heart in his throat. "Siéntate. Está bien." (Sit down. She is fine.) Gavi said, tugging at his sleeve. Pedri hesitated, his jaw tight, but stayed where he was—until he saw the stretcher being brought out. "No está bien." He muttered, brushing past Gavi. "Vuelvo enseguida." (She’s not fine. I’ll be right back.)

He made his way down to the sideline, ignoring the stares from fans and staff. His entire focus was on Y/n, who was now sitting on the pitch. But to his relief, she waved off the stretcher and began limping toward the sideline instead. As she reached him, Y/n glanced up and offered a half-hearted smile. "Pepi? Qué haces aquí?" (Pepi, what are you doing here?)

"Quería asegurarme de que estás bien." (I wanted to make sure you were okay.) He said, his voice soft but firm. As he helped the physio bring her into the dressing room.

The physio began examining her ankle, bending it carefully and asking her to do a few tests. Pedri stood close, listening intently. "Parece un esguince. Nada grave, pero necesitarás unas semanas de descanso." (Looks like a sprain. Nothing serious, but you'll need a few weeks of rest .) The physio explained. "Me aseguraré de que descanse." (I'll make sure she rests.) Pedri said without hesitation. The physio paused, grinning knowingly as his eyes flicked between the two of them. "Claro." He said with a small chuckle before walking away.

Pedri furrowed his brow. "Qué fue eso?" (What was that?) He asked, turning to Y/n. "Es que no hablo de novios con ellos." She admitted, shrugging. "Pero viéndote aquí y diciéndoles que vas a cuidarme, pues… ya lo saben." (It’s just that I don’t talk about boyfriends with them. But seeing you here and saying you’ll take care of me, well… now they know.) Pedri sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Lo siento. No quería arruinarlo." (I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess it up.)

Y/n grinned, her eyes softening. "No te preocupes. Solo el fisio lo sabe, así que estamos bien." (Don’t worry. Only the physio knows, so we’re fine.)

"Gavi lo sabe." Pedri admitted sheepishly. She rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. "Por supuesto que sí." (Of course he does.) Pedri leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Te cuidaré. Te lo prometo." (I’ll take care of you. I promise.) She tugged on the oversized coat he was wearing, pulling him closer before planting a quick kiss on his lips. "Sé que lo harás." (I know you will). She whispered.

Just then, the door to the locker room opened, and her teammates flooded in for halftime. Y/n and Pedri jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Alexia smirked. "Es lindo, pero él tiene que irse. Tenemos trabajo que hacer." (It’s cute, but he needs to go. We’ve got work to do.)

"Sí, claro." Pedri stammered, his face burning. "Buena suerte." (Yes, of course. Good luck.) Y/n chuckled as he turned and hurried out of the room. The moment the door shut, her teammates erupted into laughter and teasing.

Meanwhile, Pedri returned to his seat, only to find Gavi and the rest of the guys grinning at him. "Qué?" Pedri asked, sinking into his seat. "Solo digo que estarás escuchando esto por semanas." (I'm just saying, you'll be hearing about this for weeks.) Gavi said, smirking.

[cheianimatez]

Please Don't Cry, Little One

Warnings: Child abuse, violence

You have horrible parents. They treated both you and your older sibling horribly. But your sibling loves you. They swore they will never leave your side and maybe soon, when you two are old enough, you can finally escape this hellhole.

One day, they saw you crying, covered in bruises, so they decided to let you play on their phone. While your parents went out to get drunk, your sibling cooks you dinner. Meanwhile, while you're using their phone, you found a game called "Genshin Impact". You asked your sibling about this and asked for their permission if they can play it. Your sibling said yes.

You played the game and you're amazed from the graphics and the world. It looks like a fairy tale. Your sibling told you some basic knowledge on how to play the game and about the story.

You saw a character named Venti in the team, and when you tried his gameplay, you loved it.

When your sibling saw you happy and when they looked at their phone, they were surprised you used their main.

Everyday, when you have a chance, you played Genshin on your sibling's phone just to play as Venti. The bard is very fun to play with, your sibling can see that.

Until one day, tragedy struck.

Your sibling got beaten to death. Your father is now trying to find you, holding a bloody bat on his hand, while you're hiding in a closet somewhere in your room. You held your sibling's phone, the game still on but the sound volume is low so that the horrid man won't hear it.

[Meanwhile]

Venti is wondering why is his guide no longer responded. He then looked through the screen; on the sky, there is a barrier between two dimensions: His world, and his Traveler's world. He gained sentience the moment he met the main character. He realized the Traveler he usually talked to is not the real one. And he's probably the only one who can see the translucent barrier.

And oh boy, when he looked through, his eyes widened in horror.

A child crying.

He could here their mumbles "My sibling's dead. I'm so sorry, Venti"

Wait, his Traveler is now dead?! The child is their sibling?

He could here faint shouts of another voice.

And it sounded angry.

"Come out, you little sh(#)!"

No!

He won't linger here and watch helplessly!

He must do something!

Then he did what he shouldn't do in Teyvat, let alone in his nation...

He turned to his god form and flew fast towards the barrier.

Your father found you and is now holding you tight by the neck.

"Your sibling won't help you now, helpless creature!"

He's about to throw you to a wall when he suddenly got thrown away by a strong gust of wind, letting his grip on you go.

"Mortal fool, you think you're powerful by hurting a child?"

The man immediately scrambled backwards as his eyes widened to the god. The costume is not even a costume, it's legit.

"You should have taken care of your young. Instead, you and your wife abandoned them. Now, your punishment will be death!"

"The God of Freedom ensures everyone has freedom. But you, it seems you take it for granted..."

.

"So I have no choice but to take away your freedom. Your freedom to live"

Venti, or should I say, Barbatos, summoned his bow, and aimed the arrow infused with Anemo energy, and released it, hitting at the man's heart. You were behind Barbatos's wings, so you can't see what happened to your cruel father, all you heard are his screams of agony.

When the screams are no longer heard, Barbatos turned around, still not letting you see what happened to your father, but all you know is that you're finally safe. When you looked up, he looked familiar to your sibling's main

"Venti?"

"Yes, little one?" -Venti, feeling glad the child, his Traveler's sibling, remembering his human form.

You then hugged him as you let out your quiet sobs, making Venti sad.

"Hush... It's alright, you're safe now" -Venti, hugging you back

"Please don't cry, Little One..."