#i think i would drop 2 the floor unconscious

[butterfliesandwendigos]

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. BEFORE PT.2 — Josh Washington

SUMMARY — after you discover josh mid-psycho prank, he prevents you from watching his wrongdoings. he takes you, passed out and unconscious, to a secluded cabin on the mountain, convinced he’s keeping you away from his plan. the wendigos strike, leaving you trapped until rescue arrives. you reunite, sparking intense feelings between you two.

W/C — 8.9k.

NOTES — lots of until dawn lore, slow-buildup, set in both present and post until dawn, themes of drugging, mania, filthy smut (i think this one might be more smutty than the first😏).

PART ONE | PART TWO

You stir in the warmth of Josh’s lodge bedroom, the lingering scent of cedar and woodsmoke wrapping around you like a blanket. The walls are adorned with framed photos, capturing memories of happier times before tragedy cast a long shadow over the Washington family’s lives. A fire crackles softly, one that you don’t remember lighting, it's flickering flames lulling you more profoundly into sleep, away from the tension that hung in the lodge since the fateful night the group reunited.

But all that changes with a piercing scream.

You bolt upright, heart racing as the echoes of panic fill the air. Your friends—you recognise their voices even through the disorienting haze of sleep. Swinging your legs off the bed, you feel the chill of the wooden floor against your bare feet. Anxiety coils in your stomach as you pull on your sweater and leggings, the familiar scent of Josh lingering in the fabric.

“Josh?” you call softly, but the room is silent, except for the shouts. With a sinking feeling, you reach the door, the foreboding weight pressing down on you.

The lodge is dark, with shadows looming as you navigate through the narrow hallway. Each scream grows louder as you descend the staircase, your breath quickening with each step. You can feel the oppressive atmosphere thickening around you, almost suffocating.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and hesitate, the basement door slightly ajar. The screams have ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that makes your skin crawl. Mustering your courage, you open the door and descend into the dimly lit basement.

The air is cold and heavy, suffocating in tension, wrapping around you like a vice and making your stomach churn. Flickering lights cast chaotic shadows against the stone walls, and as you step deeper into the space, you spot a figure standing in the centre—a silhouette you recognise all too well. It’s Josh and he’s wearing… dirty, old overalls?

“Josh!” you call out, your voice echoing off the walls. But something is dreadfully off. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge your presence. He stands motionless, his back to you, staring at something unseen, his posture rigid and unyielding.

“Y/N,” he finally speaks, his voice low and unsettlingly calm, as if the warmth of human connection has slipped away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, unease creeping into your voice. “Where are the others? I heard screaming.”

He turns slowly, and you recoil at the emptiness in his eyes as if he’s lost somewhere far beyond reach. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head. I’m not letting you be a part of this. You shouldn’t even be here; you should be upstairs sleeping! I even set a fire for you to help you sleep better.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to sleep when I hear people screaming bloody murder,” you shoot back, your pulse quickening, fear gnawing at your insides. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing is going on! Would you drop it already?” he snaps, his frustration boiling over, a wildness flickering in his eyes, sending chills racing down your spine.

“Why are you acting like this?!” you demand, stepping closer, your anger igniting the air between you. You catch sight of his hands trembling, fingers twitching as if desperately trying to suppress something dangerous.

“Because I’ve done something terrible and sadistic, and none of the others are ever going to have anything to do with me again! That’s why you cannot be a part of this!” he exclaims, his voice rising, an unsettling mania building in his frightening and heartbreaking tone.

“What did you do, Josh?” you ask, your heart pounding as fear and anger collide, a storm within you.

“Please, just go upstairs and stop asking questions,” he pleads, his voice strained, panic threading through his words, twisting your stomach in knots.

“Josh, this is insane! You can’t just—” you start, but he interrupts, urgency threading through his tone.

“No! You don’t understand! I can’t let you see this,” he insists, his eyes darting around the room as if haunted by unseen phantoms. “It won’t be pretty, and I don’t want you to get caught up in it. I can’t lose you too. Please, you have to go back upstairs.”

Your heart drops as you approach him cautiously, studying how his shoulders are tense, poised on the brink of collapse. “Josh, please, talk to me,” you plead, stepping closer. “We can figure this out together.”

In a sudden, frantic motion, Josh steps back, shaking his head vehemently, a manic energy radiating from him that makes you instinctively recoil. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone!”

You grab his arm, your grip firm as you prevent him from retreating. “Are you serious? Was this trip your way of getting into my pants? Because you sure find it easy to drop me straight after sleeping with me!”

His eyes widen in shock, the hurt flashing across his face, but you’re too consumed by anger to back down. “You think this is easy for me?” he retorts, his voice trembling. “I’m trying to protect you from this mess!”

“By shutting me out?” you fire back, your heart racing with fear and fury. “By walking away? That’s not protection; it’s selfishness.”

He stares at you, his expression shifting from defiance to despair. “Y/N, please…” His voice cracks, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the boy you fell for—the one who would never turn away from you, no matter the circumstances.

“You don’t know what they did,” he murmurs, a haunting smile ghosting across his lips. “You weren’t there. They took everything from me.”

Conflict swirls in his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the fight within him begins to waver. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” he finally admits, his voice breaking under the weight of his anguish.

He hesitates, and you see the pain etched deep in his expression. “I’m giving them what they deserve,” he replies, the weight of his words heavy and dark. “They took everything from me, and I won’t let them take you away too. Please, go back upstairs.”

The moment's intensity hangs between you like a taut wire, the darkness closing in. You stare at Josh, grappling with the dichotomy of the man you love and the stranger he’s become. “What do you mean, ‘giving them what they deserve’? Who are you talking about?”

He clenches his jaw, refusing to answer, the inner turmoil evident in his strained features. You step closer, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. “Josh, you can’t just shut me out like this. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of losing you.”

The flickering light casts eerie shadows across his face, and in that moment, you see the pain that’s etched into his features. “You don’t understand,” he whispers, voices low and raw. “You can’t understand what they did. It’s not just about me anymore. I have to finish this.”

“Finish what?” you press, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “What’s going on down here? If you’re in danger, I want to help you. We can face it together.”

He shakes his head violently, tears brimming in his eyes, an unsettling fear radiating from him. “You think it’s that simple? They’re not just people; they’re monsters. They took everything from me, and now it’s my turn to make them pay. I won’t let you be a part of this. You deserve better.”

“I don’t care about what I deserve! I care about you, Josh!” Your voice rises, echoing off the cold stone walls, desperation lacing your words. “Don’t push me away. If you think isolating yourself will keep me safe, you’re mistaken. It’ll only push me further away.”

The tension in his shoulders eases for a moment, and you see a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Y/N…” he starts, but then he falters, the wall around him hardening again. “I can’t let you get involved in this. You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

You take a deep breath, grounding yourself in the gravity of the situation. “Then let me help you figure it out. You can’t do this alone, Josh. You’re not alone anymore.”

He turns his back to you again, and your heart sinks, a wave of despair crashing over you. You want to scream, shake, and make him see reason, but instead, you take a step back, trying to breathe through the rising panic. “Josh, please, I’m begging you. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. If this is about revenge, then it’s going to consume you. It’s not worth it.”

His silence is deafening, the shadows creeping closer, wrapping around him like a noose. You inch forward again, unwilling to let the distance grow. “What did they take from you?” you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping to pierce the dark veil enveloping him.

He hesitates, and you see the battle raging in his mind. “They took… they took my sisters,” he finally admits, his voice cracking under the strain. “They took my family, and I wasn’t there to protect them.”

Your heart aches for him, the depth of his pain crashing over you like a tidal wave. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” you murmur, tears stinging your eyes. “But this isn’t the way to make it right. This won’t bring them back.”

“I don’t want them back,” he snaps, but the anger is undercut with sorrow, the edges fraying. “I just want them to pay for what they did. I want to feel something—anything but this empty rage inside me.”

You take another step closer, heart racing as you reach out, your hand brushing against his arm. “Then let me help you. Don’t let this rage destroy you. You’re stronger than this. We can find another way to honour their memory.”

He turns to face you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, the turmoil within him still raging but beginning to soften. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, vulnerability etching across his features, deepening the ache in your heart.

“You won’t,” you promise, stepping closer, your voice resolute. “We’ll find a way through this. Together.”

For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls around him might crumble, but then he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, I can’t risk it. I won’t let you be part of this darkness.”

You take a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs as you try to steady yourself against the gravity of it all. “Then what? You’ll just shut me out? You’ll go through this alone?”

For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls around him might crumble, but then he jerks away, shaking his head with wild desperation. “No, I can’t risk it. I won’t let you be part of this darkness.”

You take a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs as dread settles in your chest. “Then what? You’ll just shut me out? You’ll go through this alone?”

His eyes are wild, flickering with an inner conflict that twists your gut. “I don’t know how to just… let it go.”

“Then don’t let it go alone,” you plead, reaching out to cup his face in your trembling hands, your heart racing in the thick, oppressive air. “You can’t do this alone, Josh. We can face it together. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself. Let me be with you.”

The tension in his frame wavers for a moment, and you catch a glimpse of hope igniting in his gaze. “I wish I could just go back to being normal… to being happy,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret and a hint of mania.

“Then let’s work on that together,” you urge, your hand still on his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble of his jaw. “You don’t have to lose yourself in this darkness. Let me help you find your way back.”

The silence stretches between you like a taut wire, the world's weight pressing down. As you stand there, staring into his eyes, you see the flicker of a fragile spark amidst the storm of his despair.

“Okay,” he finally says, his voice breaking slightly, urgency threading through his words. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you reply, heart pounding.

“Promise me you won’t give up on me, no matter how far I fall,” he whispers, the vulnerability in his eyes cutting straight through to your heart, the weight of his desperation almost palpable.

“I promise,” you say, tears welling up. “We’ll get through this together, Josh. I won’t let you go.”

He nods, a single tear escaping down his cheek, but the spark of hope quickly dims. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice trembling, the manic edge returning, his eyes darting around as if haunted by unseen horrors.

“I know,” you reply softly, wiping the tear away with your thumb. “But we’ll face that fear together. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

The tension crackles in the air, thick and charged, as Josh’s vulnerability battles with something darker within him—your heart races as you stare into his conflicted eyes, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. Without thinking, you close the gap, your breath mingling with his.

At that moment, something shifts within Josh. He hesitates, then, without warning, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. The weight of the world slips away as you lean into him, seeking solace in the embrace.

But then you sense the urgency in his movements, the frantic energy surging beneath the surface. The outside world fades, and all you can feel is the moment's intensity. Without even realising it, your lips find his. The kiss is tentative at first, exploring the vulnerability you both share. But as the heat between you builds, it transforms into something urgent and desperate—a frantic plea for connection that speaks to the chaos swirling around you.

You melt against him, feeling him respond as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything he thinks into that moment. His lips are warm and inviting, igniting a fire inside you, and you lose yourself in him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to erase the distance between you.

But just as abruptly, he pulls away, breathless, his forehead resting against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his eyes filled with a manic intensity that makes your heart race. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in now. Not with this. After is a different story; I’ll tell you everything.”

The chill of his words slices through you, and reality crashes back in. “Josh—”

Before you can finish, he reaches into his pocket, confusion turning to dread as you see him pull out a small cloth. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like icy water.

“Josh, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice shaking, a sense of dread coiling tightly around your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, anguish etched across his face, his eyes wide and frantic. “I have to protect you.”

Without warning, he lunges forward, pressing the cloth against your mouth and nose. Instinctively, you struggle, fear coursing through your veins as the suffocating scent of chloroform envelops you. You claw at his hands, desperation surging, but your body betrays you as darkness seeps into your vision.

“Josh, no!” you gasp, but your words dissolve into silence, swallowed by the overwhelming haze. The frantic look in his eyes pierces through the fog, revealing the chaos of his spiralling mind.

“Just for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice distant and strained, tinged with a frantic urgency that sets your heart racing. “Don’t be scared; I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it right, I promise. I need time—just a little time to fix this.”

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, everything fades to black.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The soft crackle of firewood breaks through the heavy silence, pulling you from unconsciousness. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The flickering flames dimly lit the small cabin, casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. You sit up, disoriented, your muscles stiff and aching as you take in the cozy but foreign space.

You glance down to find yourself wrapped in a thick blanket, and underneath it, you’re dressed in an oversized jacket that smells faintly of Josh—woodsy and warm. It swallows you whole, the weight of it grounding you as you scan the room.

An array of snacks is laid out on a small table nearby: bags of chips, a few granola bars, and a thermos of hot cocoa, steam rising in lazy curls. The sight is strangely comforting but does little to quell the unease gnawing at your insides. Where are you? What happened?

As your mind clears, you push the blanket aside and swing your legs over the bed's edge, feeling the cabin floor's coolness against your feet. You spot a piece of paper propped against a half-burned log in the fireplace. The neatly typed letters starkly contrast the rustic chaos around you, and you rise to retrieve it, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unfold the letter, your eyes scanning the words with growing anxiety:

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, you’re awake. I know you’re confused and maybe even scared. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I couldn’t think of any other way to protect you. I had to get you away from everything.

I’ve spent so long planning this, and I know it sounds wild—because it is. I wanted to pull a prank on my friends. I wanted them to be scared, to experience that heart-pounding rush of fear that comes when you think your life is in danger, but I never wanted them to be hurt. I didn’t want them to suffer like my family did. I wanted to make a point, to show them how fragile life can be, but they didn’t see it that way.

So, I dressed up as a killer—in those overalls you saw me in. I spent weeks piecing together the costumes, researching horror movies for inspiration, and trying to channel the terror that would haunt their dreams. I used fake blood, a mask, and everything to make it feel authentic without crossing the line.

When I saw the genuine fear in their eyes, it twisted something inside me. It was as if I had become the monster I was pretending to be. I realised then that I had pushed things too far. I lost sight of the line between fun and horror, and once you cross that line, there’s no going back.

When I saw what they did to my sisters, how could I resist this? How could I let them go on living their lives while mine was shattered? So, I created a nightmare for them, a taste of the horror that took everything from me. But now I realise it’s too late for regrets.

I know I’ve gone too far and can’t undo what I’ve done. I didn’t want you to be part of this madness, Y/N. You deserve better than this chaos.

You are my light in the darkness, and I can’t bear to lose you too. I just needed time to figure things out, to find a way to make things right.

Please forgive me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Love,

Josh.

You read the letter twice, each word slicing through you like ice. Shock gives way to anger, fear, and overwhelming sadness. Josh’s intentions may have stemmed from a place of love, but his actions were reckless and dangerous. He had crossed a line, dragging you into the depths of his madness.

Setting the letter aside, you wrap the jacket tighter around yourself, feeling its weight as if it holds pieces of him—his warmth, scent, and shared memories. But now, those memories feel tainted, overshadowed by what he’s done.

You pace the small cabin, anxiety bubbling up as the reality of your situation sinks in. You’re alone on Blackwood Mountain, isolated from the world, and he’s somewhere out there—lost in his turmoil.

Your heart races as you wonder: How far has he gone? You approach the window, peering into the darkened woods surrounding the cabin. The trees loom like sentinels, shadows creeping ominously in the dying light.

You can’t just wait here. You have to find him. You have to make him see reason, to pull him back from the brink before he loses himself entirely to the darkness. Gathering your resolve, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands.

With newfound determination, you head toward the door, knowing you must find Josh and confront him about his choices—before it’s too late.

You take a deep breath, heart pounding as you inch toward the cabin door. The stillness of the night is oppressive, a suffocating blanket that wraps around you, making every instinct scream for you to turn back. But you push through, determined to find Josh, to confront him about the madness he has unleashed.

As you swing the door open, the icy air hits you, and the moonlight spills into the cabin, illuminating the expanse of snow-covered ground outside. You step out, every nerve in your body on high alert. The forest looms around you, shadows twisting in the pale light.

Suddenly, a chilling howl echoes through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. You freeze, straining to see through the darkness. That’s when you glimpse it—a creature, grotesque and otherworldly, its long limbs twisted and elongated, eyes glowing like embers in the night.

Panic surges through you, an instinctual fight-or-flight response kicking in as the creature turns its head, locking its eyes on you. In that moment, all rational thought vanishes. You stumble backward, heart racing, and slam the door shut behind you. Adrenaline propels you into the small cabin as you dart toward the nearest hiding place—the bed.

You drop to the floor and scramble beneath it, your breath quick and shallow. The world around you blurs into a haze of terror, and you press your back against the wooden frame, curling into a ball as the sound of the monster’s snarling fills your ears. You feel utterly powerless, trapped in the darkness of your hiding place, time stretching endlessly as the creature stalks outside.

Hours pass, each minute feeling like an eternity. The monster’s guttural growls echo through the night, haunting you with the promise of violence. You clutch the blanket around you, trying to drown out the sound, waiting for dawn with a desperation that gnaws at your insides.

Finally, a faint light seeps through the cracks in the cabin walls, signalling the arrival of dawn. You let out a shaky breath, still too terrified to move. But just as the first rays of sunlight touch the ground, a loud explosion rips through the silence. The ground shakes, and the monster’s screams suddenly fall silent.

You stay hidden, frozen in place, unable to comprehend what happened. The panic tightens around you, and even though the creature is gone, you can’t bring yourself to leave the safety of your hiding spot. What if it comes back? What if there are more?

The hours go on, and the sun climbs higher in the sky. You hear distant voices, the sound of people calling out, but fear keeps you rooted beneath the bed. You don’t want to face the outside world after what you’ve just seen.

Finally, the door creaks open, and you hold your breath, heart racing as footsteps approach. “Y/N?” a voice calls out, but it feels distant, like a dream. “Are you in here?”

Others join the voice, and the panic swirling inside you melts into a fragile hope. You wait, listening as they search the cabin, calling your name, until one of them finally crouches down beside the bed.

“There you are,” It’s a search team member, their face a mix of relief and concern. “You’re safe now. Come on out.”

With trembling limbs, you crawl out from your hiding spot, feeling the sun on your face for the first time since the nightmare began. You’re enveloped in the warmth of a rescue team member, the world flooding back into focus, but your mind is still reeling.

“Where’s Josh?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“We’ll take you to him,” the rescuer replies, helping you to your feet. “He was found in the mines. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”

“The mines? What mines?” You ask the rescuer, beyond confused.

“Your friend ended up down the mines. All of your other friends are saying some monster attacked them,” the rescuer replies.

“I saw it, too,” You whisper.

The relief floods through you, but it’s tinged with a deep sense of foreboding. It was real; the monster was real. You weren’t going crazy.

As you’re escorted back through the snow, the reality of the night’s horrors sinks in. You catch glimpses of the chaos left behind—the aftermath of the explosion, the remnants of the monsters. When you finally reach the makeshift medical station set up for the search team, you scan the area, your heart racing as you spot Josh sitting on a cot, looking dishevelled and lost. He’s staring blankly ahead, his eyes hollow, as if he’s not truly present.

“Josh!” you call, your heart in your throat as you rush forward.

He snaps his gaze to you, confusion clouding his expression, and for a moment, you fear he won’t recognise you. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice trembling. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me! I’m okay!” you reply, urgency threading through your words as you reach him.

He stands abruptly, eyes wide as he takes a few hesitant steps toward you, as if afraid you might vanish again. “I thought… I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace that feels both desperate and protective.

“I was so scared, Josh,” you admit, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I saw this thing, and it was right outside the cabin. I thought I’d never get out.”

His grip tightens around you, his breath hitching as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “I was worried about you. I thought they’d get you. I’m so sorry for leaving you there.”

“You saved my life by leaving me there. I had a place to hide,” You tell him, giving him a scared smile.

His eyes search yours, wild and frantic. “Are you here, or is it all in my head? I’ve been in this hell for so long, I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real, Josh,” you assure him, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As the weight of your words settles between you, you see a flicker of clarity return to his gaze. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he breathes, and without warning, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around as relief washes over him.

“Josh!” you exclaim, laughing and crying at once, overwhelmed by the mixed emotions. “Put me down!”

But he holds you tightly, his expression fierce with affection. “No, I won’t let you go. Not again. I was so worried about you and those things out there. I can’t— I can’t lose you like I lost them.”

You pull back from the embrace, searching Josh's eyes for anything that reflects the boy you knew before this nightmare began. “What about everyone else?” you ask, your voice steady despite the uncertainty. “What happened with the others?”

His expression darkens, the shadows of grief and guilt flickering across his features. “They tied me up after I confronted them,” he admits, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I was… This thing took me, and my sisters were there and—“

You nod slowly, recalling Josh’s note, where he dressed up as a killer to scare his friends during a camping trip. “Josh, they’re gone. They couldn’t have been there,” you remind him gently.

“No, Hannah was there. She was one of those things,” he replies, his voice thick with remorse. “It’s my fault that everyone is here… I could’ve gotten everyone killed.”

“Josh, you didn’t know,” you reassure him, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “What happened with those monsters wasn’t your fault. How were you supposed to know what would happen?”

He looks away, his gaze distant, haunted by the memories. “It’s still my fault. I led everyone here. When I saw those things… I was terrified and left you all alone to face them.”

“You didn’t leave me behind on purpose. You thought you were protecting me,” you say softly, trying to keep his gaze locked onto yours. “But you need to understand that you need help, Josh. I know what you did was because you’re grieving, but seriously… drugging me? You could have just told me what you were doing. I understand why you did it.”

He nods, tears pooling in his eyes. “I know. I’m so lost right now. I can’t even tell what’s real anymore. I’m scared that if I close my eyes, I’ll see them again—my sisters, the monsters. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

“Then we’ll get through this together,” you assure him, your voice strong. “But you have to let people in. You need to talk to someone who can help.”

Just then, a medical team approaches, their expressions severe but sympathetic. “Josh, Y/N,” one of the paramedics says, his voice steady. “We need to take you both for a check-up. It’s protocol after what you’ve been through.”

You nod, your heart racing as you follow Josh’s lead toward the makeshift medical station. “Do you think the others will be okay?” you ask him, glancing back at the chaos surrounding you—the remnants of the explosion, the hushed voices of searchers, and the growing concern etched into their faces.

“I hope so,” he replies, his voice wavering. “But I don’t know. I was down in the mines for so long. I don’t even know if they knew I was gone.”

As the medical team checks you both over, the atmosphere shifts slightly, tinged with relief and anxiety. They examine your injuries and ensure you’re both stable, then refer you to a hospital for a more thorough check-up. After an eternity of tests and questions, you finally get the green light to leave.

“Hey,” Josh says as you both stand outside the hospital, the sunlight peeking through the trees. “You okay?”

“I think so,” you reply, giving him a tentative smile. “Just… still processing everything.”

He nods, his expression solemn but determined. “I just called a taxi… do you wanna return to mine?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you agree, feeling a slight weight lift as you follow him. The drive is quiet, each of you lost in thought, but the familiar contours of his neighbourhood provide a strange sense of comfort.

When you finally reach Josh’s home, he hesitates at the door, his hand resting on the knob. “Are you sure you want to come in? I understand if you changed your mind.”

“I want to be here,” you say, your heart pounding as you step closer.

He nods, opening the door and stepping inside, the familiar scent of home washing over you. As he closes the door behind you, the world's weight outside feels slightly lighter, if only for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about many things,” he says quietly as you sit on the couch. “About the prank and my sisters and how I could have responded to everything better.”

He sits beside you, leaning against the couch as he stares at the floor. “But I just don’t know how to move forward. Everything feels so twisted and wrong.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you promise, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers. “One step at a time.”

Josh looks up, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. “Thank you, Y/N. For being here. I don’t deserve it, but it means everything to me.”

“You deserve it,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “We all deserve a second chance.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, and while the shadows of the past still loom over you, the warmth of each other’s presence offers a flicker of light in the darkness.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across Josh’s living room. The chaos of the past few days still lingered in the air, but it felt different here—more intimate and safe. As you sat on the couch, your fingers intertwined with Josh’s, you couldn’t help but glance around at the familiar yet altered space.

“I can’t believe you wore those ugly overalls last night,” you teased, breaking the silence. “They made you look like a redneck farmer.”

Josh chuckled, his mood lifting slightly as he recalled the memory. “Hey, they were fashionable! At least for a psycho prank gone wrong,” he replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Fashionable? Really?” You grinned at him, teasingly nudging his shoulder.

“Okay, fair enough. But I thought the whole ‘creepy psycho in overalls’ thing was semi-accurate for a crazed killer,” he defended, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

“It was not giving psycho killer,” You laugh, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. As you both shared a moment of laughter, Josh’s playful demeanour took on a different edge. He leaned in closer, mischief sparking in his eyes. “You know, you might think you know what a psycho looks like,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “but I could show you what it looks like.”

Before you could fully process his words, he playfully reached for your neck, his fingers wrapping gently around it, creating a tension that sent shivers down your spine. “Just a little squeeze,” he whispered, a smirk on his lips.

Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his teasing and the underlying intensity in his gaze. “Josh…,” you breathed, half-laughing, half-breathless, the playful edge of his words tinged with something more profound.

As you gazed into his eyes, a strange heat surged through you, an undeniable thrill that coursed through your veins. You found yourself leaning slightly into his grip, an instinctual reaction that did not go unnoticed. A flicker of realisation crossed Josh's face—a mix of surprise and intrigue.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the teasing lilt now laced with something more intense. The corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smirk as he subtly tightened his grip just enough to draw a soft gasp from you.

Your heart raced, and the realisation hit you hard. The thrill of danger mingled with an unexpected desire, and you couldn’t deny the rush it gave you. “Maybe I do,” you admitted your voice barely above a whisper, challenging him even as your breath hitched.

Josh’s eyes darkened, a spark of excitement igniting between you. “You’re going to have to be careful with that,” he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You never know how far I’ll take it.”

Josh leaned in and kissed your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your jaw and sending shivers down your spine. His hands found their way to your body, touching you in all the right places and sending more shivers through you. He sucked on your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your skin and making you moan softly.

His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you. The atmosphere around you seemed to fade away; the only sounds now were the rustle of leaves and the distant call of wind, all background noise to the thrumming tension between you two.

"Lie back," he commanded softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding as you stretched out on the soft, mossy ground. The coolness of the earth seeped into your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside you.

Josh positioned himself between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. He ran his hands up your thighs, his touch firm yet deliberate, sending electric jolts through your body. A predatory smile spread across his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thighs.

He began with gentle kisses, trailing them up your thighs, each one sending delicious tingles through your core. His fingers moved expertly, tracing patterns on your sensitive skin, teasing you with their nearness but not entirely granting you the relief you craved. He knew exactly how to build the anticipation and keep you on the edge.

Josh's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he pulled your leggings off, revealing you clad in your panties. He pulls them to the side, gently running his fingertips above your hole, admiring the shine his actions elicit.

He lowers his face slowly, wrapping his lips around your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub with expert precision. You quietly cried out, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He worked you with relentless intensity, his mouth and tongue creating a symphony of sensations that left you breathless.

"Fuck, Josh," you moaned, your fingers digging into the moss beneath you. "That feels so good."

He didn't respond verbally, but his actions spoke volumes. His fingers joined the assault, slipping inside you with ease, filling you just as thoroughly as his mouth was devouring you. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the orgasm building like a tidal wave within you.

But just as you were about to crest, he pulled back, his fingers retreating from your aching pussy. You whimpered in protest, your body trembling with need. "No, please," you begged, your voice raw with desperation.

"Not yet," he said, his voice a deep growl. He kissed his way up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your neck, he bit down gently, a sharp bite that made you gasp. "I'm going to make you wait, make you ache for it," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

His hand returned to your centre, his fingers sliding back inside you with a needy groan. He played you like an instrument, his touch both rough and tender, pushing you right to the brink but never allowing you to fall over. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. "So desperate, so needy. I love it."

The humiliation, mixed with the arousal fueling your desire even further. "Josh, please," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

"Not yet," he growled, pulling his fingers free again. "We're not done here."

He shifted position, his mouth descending on your clit again, but this time with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath. His tongue worked relentlessly, driving you mad with need, while his fingers teased your entrance. The combination was maddening, a whirlwind of sensations that had you repeatedly crying out his name.

"Please, Josh, let me come," you begged, your body tensing as the orgasm loomed large.

"Go ahead," he challenged, his tongue flicking over your clit in rapid, staccato bursts.

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry of release, you came hard, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of ecstasy washed over you. He didn't stop, his mouth and fingers working in unison to draw out every last drop of your climax until you were left quivering and spent, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

The first orgasm started to wash over you like a wave in the ocean, and you let out a soft moan. But Josh didn't stop. He didn't stop sucking your clit.

Josh’s lips lingered on your clit, his tongue flicking rhythmically as he drove you deeper into a haze of pleasure and pain. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing against your senses, leaving you breathless and desperate for release. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with relentless intensity.

“Josh, please… I can’t…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleading and ecstasy. Your hands moved instinctively to push him away, but his grip only tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an unyielding ferocity that sent shivers down your spine.

His tongue pressed harder, circling your clit with expert precision, drawing out every gasp and moan from deep within you. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on torture, each stroke of his tongue sending electric shocks through your body.

With one final flick of his tongue, he drew out a strangled cry from your throat, the orgasm hovering just out of reach. Your body trembled with the effort of holding back, every muscle straining against the overwhelming pleasure.

You watched as his eyes darkened with lust, the predator in him coming to the surface as he took what he wanted from you.

His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking harder, his teeth grazing lightly against your sensitive nub, the sharp sting mixing with the pleasure to create a heady cocktail of sensations.

You cried out as the orgasm tore through you, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. Your legs shook uncontrollably, your muscles spasming as the aftershocks rippled.

Josh didn’t stop. He kept his mouth locked onto your clit, milking every ounce of pleasure from your shuddering form. You could feel your juices flowing, coating his chin and dripping onto your thighs, a sticky testament to your surrender.

Your mind reeled, the sheer intensity of the experience pushing you to the edge of sanity. But there was no escaping him, no way to deny the primal pull of his dominance. You found yourself arching against him, desperate for more, even as your body screamed for rest.

“Josh… please… too much…” you moaned, your voice barely coherent. The overstimulation was becoming too much, the constant barrage of pleasure threatening to overwhelm you completely.

And then he was there again, his tongue finding your clit once more, the pressure perfect as he guided you toward another peak. Each flick of his tongue, each suck of his lips, brought you closer to the edge until you were teetering on the brink again, helpless to resist.

With a strangled cry, you came again, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you like wildfire. Your pussy clenched around his tongue, pulsing with the force of your release.

But Josh wasn’t satisfied with just three. He kept going, his mouth relentless as he pushed you toward yet another orgasm. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth, the taste of your arousal, and the sound of your cries filling the air.

Your mind blanked, lost in the sea of pleasure he had created. All thought fled as you obeyed, riding the wave of sensation until you were thrown into another explosive orgasm. Your body jerked and twitched, your cries echoing through the room as you shattered yet again.

Your vision blurred, your body trembling with exhaustion and pleasure. You could feel the sticky mess of your juices coating his face, dripping down onto your thighs.

“Josh… please… no more…” you begged, your voice weak and strained. The constant onslaught of pleasure had left you drained, every muscle quivering with the aftermath of your multiple climaxes.

Before you could protest, his mouth was back on your clit, his tongue flicking mercilessly as he drove you toward yet another orgasm. The sensation was almost too much, the sheer intensity of it pushing you to the edge of comprehension.

“Josh… please… stop…” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you reached the limit of your endurance. The overstimulation was too much, the constant barrage of pleasure threatening to break you apart completely.

But Josh was relentless. He held your gaze as he drove you to the edge, his eyes burning with a dark fire that refused to be quenched.

“Okay,” Josh says, pulling his mouth away from you. He gets off his knees, stands up and walks to the other side of the room, sitting on a single-person couch.

“Why are you sitting there?” You ask him, your voice weak and quiet.

“You told me to stop, so I did. If you can’t handle me, I’m happy to let you rest,” He teases, defiantly sitting with his arms crossed. You could tell he was playing games with you, wanting to bring you to the edge and beyond over and over again.

He’s still sitting there, and you’re still lying on the couch. You haven’t moved, not even a little bit. Your whole body is quivering from the overstimulation and pleasure he put you through. And now he’s sitting on the other side of the room, teasing you and playing games with your body.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” You say, finally finding the energy to speak.

“Then why did you tell me to stop?” He asks, looking at you with a raised brow.

“I… I… I don’t know,” You whimper.

“Are you sure you’re ready for more?” He asks, standing up now and walking back to the couch.

“I’m sure,” You say. You’re begging to have him inside of you. You’re begging for more. You’re begging for anything and everything he’ll give you.

He reaches out and grabs your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed and standing in front of you. Your legs fall to the sides as he bends down to kiss you, his hand trailing down your thigh to your pussy.

He pushes two fingers in you, curling them upwards and rubbing against your g-spot. You feel yourself building up to another climax that’s different from the others.

“Josh,” You moan.

“Yes, baby,” He replies.

“You’re going to make me cum again,” You say to him.

“That’s the plan,” He says, his voice soft as he speaks.

You feel the wave wash over you, building up and then letting go. You feel a flood of fluid flowing from your pussy as the climax washes over you, making Josh’s fingers slide out of you with extreme ease.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He whispers. He pulls his fingers out and smears the juices around his mouth and lips, tasting you and swallowing the liquid gold down his throat.

He pulls your legs towards him, spreading you apart so he can fit his body between them. He leans down and kisses you again, your juices still on his lips and tongue. Josh removes his clothing, displaying his toned body and thick cock.

“Come here, Y/N,” He says, sitting down and patting his thighs. He lifts you slightly, sitting you in his lap, making you straddle his cock with your legs. He slides his cock into your pussy and starts to bounce you up and down on his lap.

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling another orgasm building in your lower belly, but it’s different from the other ones, your tolerance to orgasms building up higher than you thought possible.

“Oh god,” You say. “Oh my god.”

“Just a little longer,” He says. Your eyes widen, and your mouth opens in a silent scream as you come again.

“Good girl,” He says. He smiles at you and starts to rub your back. “I want to see you cum more.”

You’re so weak you can barely hold yourself up, but that doesn’t stop him. He holds you up for you, fucking you hard and deep. You feel another climax coming on and let out a loud moan as it hits you. Josh grunts in your ear.

“Cum for me,” He says. “Cum all over my cock.”

You feel the heat wash over you, and you clench around him. He picks up the pace, fucking you so hard your juices are flowing down his cock and onto his lap. You feel like you’ve cummed too much that you can’t take anymore.

But he doesn’t care. He just keeps going, fucking you harder and more profound than you thought possible. He’s still holding you up, not letting you rest.

“Cum again,” He grunts. “Cum for me.”

You do as he says, cumming again and clenching around his cock. His breathing gets faster and heavier.

Josh’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust more profoundly and more complexly. The rough, dominant manner in which he was taking you sent a thrill through your body, making your skin tingle with anticipation. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice low and commanding. “You’re mine,” he growled, each word punctuated by another powerful thrust. “And I’m going to fill you up so good, you’ll feel me for days.”

Your body responded involuntarily, clenching around him as he continued to pump into you. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over you with each of his movements. You could feel the strain in your muscles, the way your legs trembled slightly from the intensity of it all. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and you could hear the slick sounds of your bodies sliding together, mingling with the occasional grunt or moan that escaped Josh’s lips.

He captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as forcefully as he invaded your body. His taste, mixed with the salty sweat of exertion, was intoxicating. You could feel his hardness pressing against the walls of your pussy, every part of his cock rubbing against you in just the right way to drive you wild.

The smell of sex filled the air, a heady mix of sweat, arousal, and the earthy scent of the forest. It was intoxicating, making your head swim with desire. The sound of your moans and his grunts echoed around you, the noises blending into a symphony of pleasure.

Josh’s pace began to change, becoming more erratic as his control started slipping. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles bunched and flexed with each movement. His thrusts became less controlled, more primal, as he drove himself into you with abandon.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained. “So tight, so wet… I can’t hold back much longer.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the knowledge that he was so close to releasing sending a fresh wave of excitement through you.

“Do it, Josh,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Fill me up… please.”

“I’m cumming,” He grunts out. He leans back on the couch and pulls you down onto his cock, fucking you from beneath. He feels so good. Your muscles are too weak to hold yourself up, so he does it for you, pulling you up and down on him.

He let out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he began to come undone. With one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his hips slamming against yours as he came hard. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, his cum flooding your insides as he held you tightly, his grip almost painfully strong on your hips.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being full, of having him inside you in such a possessive, consuming way. You could feel every pulse of his orgasm, the way his cock twitched and throbbed within you. The heat of his seed spread through you, making you gasp at the intensity of it all.

Josh’s breathing was heavy, his chest heaving as he continued to hold you down, his body pressed tightly against yours. You could feel the sweat dripping from his brow and his heart pounding against your back. The aftermath of their intense coupling left you both breathless, the world seeming to spin around you.

“God, that was… incredible,” Josh murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He loosened his grip on your hips slightly but still kept you pinned beneath him, unwilling to let you go just yet. “You took that so well… so perfectly.”

You could feel the remnants of his orgasm still pulsing inside you, the warm, sticky sensation making you squirm slightly. The feeling of being filled, of having him so deep within you, was intoxicating. You wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in his arms, connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

“Josh…” you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion. “That was…”

“Shh,” he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. “Just enjoy it while you can. I’ll be filling you up again by the end of tonight.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the promise of more making your heart race. You could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring within you again, the aftershocks of their previous climax still lingering.

He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight. You lean back into his embrace and let his body envelop you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I never want this to end,” he says.

“I don’t either,” You reply.

He kisses the top of your head again, and you both relax, basking in each other’s presence. You’re so happy like you’ve never been happier in your life. You know this is where you’re meant to be, and you’ll never want it to end.

You lean back on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the world wash over you. You know he’ll never leave your side and protect you from all harm. You love him with all your heart.

And you know he loves you, too.

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Chapter 2 - An affair to remember

A/N: Chapter 2, here we are! Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed reading this. And no, I couldn’t just settle on one photo.

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ loss of virginity, age gap, smut.

Word count: 4025

An affair to remember

After trying around eleven outfits and disliking each of them for some reason or other, you settled on a simple floral button down blouse with a pair of jeans. You weren’t exactly sure if he’d asked you out on a date or the drink was just a friendly offer.

Of course it’s a date, you kissed him, Y/N, you thought to yourself. The mirror of your car revealed a visibly nervous reflection of you, fixing your hair multiple times, redoing your lipstick before you shook yourself mentally and drove off. Stark tower was a twenty minute drive from your apartment, and since it was a Sunday, traffic was in your favour thankfully.

By the time the tall, shiny building came into view, you had worked yourself up into taking this as a business meeting. You would be professional with the man and politely decline drinks if he’d offered. It would be inappropriate. You were sure he felt the same way.

Apparently your arrival was expected and welcomed in a pleasantly surprising way. A chubby, friendly looking man gave you a smile as you entered the foyer, introducing himself as Happy Hogan. He escorted you up to Mr. Stark’s floor or rather floors which was the penthouse of the ninety-three storeyed building.

The space was swanky, stylish and impeccably designed. Floor to ceiling windows that offered the most stunning views of the city, sleek and modern furniture that only screamed rich. You smoothed down your top and cleared your throat as you approached the outdoor seating area where Tony sat, wearing a dark coloured shirt and some jeans. Casual but still quite well put together, you thought.

“Ah! Miss Y/L/N, you made it. Thanks, Happy.”

As your hands touched, the spark was back, one that made your insides buzz with excitement as you smiled at each other, letting your handshake extend for longer than necessary. It was only when Happy cleared his throat to announce his exit that you broke contact.

As he left, you considered bringing up the elephant in the room that loomed large, causing you to shuffle your weight from one foot to the other. Maybe if you addressed it right away, you could move on and be done with it? Not let the meeting be awkward for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, Tony was trying his best to focus on anything but your irresistible lips. He was drawn to them, it was quite unexplainable but he wanted nothing more than to have your lips on his again.

“So…” you started, twirling a lock of hair nervously between your fingers as you looked around, aware of his gaze following.

“So.”

“I think we should talk about what happened. Look, it was a mistake, I don’t know what came over me, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Tony blinked his disappointment away and nodded in agreement. It was probably for the best.

“Yeah, probably. You’re right. It—it was inappropriate.”

“Yes! I mean, you’re friends with my Dad and also way out of my league.”

Your admission made him smirk, watching your cheeks flush with realization of what you had said.

“Out of your league huh? What is your league? Overzealous frat boys?” he teased.

“Haha. You’re funny.” You rolled your eyes but hoped he’d drop the subject, thankfully he did, brushing it off as no harm done, much to your relief.

You unconsciously reached for your camera, thinking it’d be better if you steered the subject to the big photoshoot.

“You brought your camera, why?” Tony murmured, pointing to the device sticking out from your bag.

“I just thought I’d do a few test shots of the locations you’d be photographed in. Check the lighting and things. It will be a day shoot, right?”

Tony frowned, realizing he was yet to work out all of that or he probably had been sent the schedule but it slipped his mind. He also thought it’d be a good idea to inform Natalie about the change in photographer, since the magazine had been adamant on bringing their own person for the job.

“That’s a good question, I have no idea. But don’t worry, I’ll have my secretary send you the details.”

Humming in agreement, you asked if he could show you around the space, get an idea about what the vibe of the interview was going to be like. He happily agreed and began a tour of the place, explaining what housed on each floor, giving you a background about his business which you kinda already knew - one Google search was all it took to give the necessary details and some unnecessary ones as well. Tony had a notorious reputation of being a playboy, he certainly lived a very colourful life and had made no qualms about it.

Still, his eyes reflected the passion he had for technology as he spoke, the pride he took in pointing out all of the achievements Stark Industries had over the years.

Primarily a weapons manufacturer, he decided on taking a different route for his company after a particularly life-changing incident in Afghanistan. The man was abducted by a terrorist group called Ten Rings and kept in a cave for three months.

While how he escaped remained a mystery to the world, his return had been miraculous. He led you back to his grand living room, gesturing you to take a seat.

“You said an explosive blew up not far from you and yet you came out of that cave scratch free? How?” you asked about his incredulous story.

“Not just any explosive, it was one of my own creations. And I never said it was scratch free.”

He seemed to ponder for a while, looking around as if to check if anyone was spying on you two before he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them to reveal what looked like a circular battery-like device emitting a faint blue light. It seemed as if it was jammed in his chest, the peripheral skin scarred.

“What is that?”

He chuckled as your eyes went wide, glancing down at the device that was keeping him alive.

“It’s an electromagnet that essentially keeps the shrapnel from reaching my heart. It’s called an arc reactor, there is another one of these, a much bigger one that powers this building.” he explained, buttoning his shirt back up and letting you know how he managed to power it with the help of a man named Ho Yinsen in the caves.

If it weren’t for that little device, and the brave sacrifice of Yinsen, the world would’ve lost Tony Stark and you would’ve never met this incredible man.

“And here I assumed you sold your soul to the devil.”

Your words made him laugh, feeling a little flutter in that battery-operated heart. He wasn’t sure what made him reveal the arc reactor to you, he hadn’t let anyone see it, except for Rhodey since he found him in the desert. Something about you reassured him that you were trustworthy. You were like a breath of fresh air.

After returning, Tony Stark had dedicated much of his business to RnD in the field of science and technology. You listened with keen interest, getting to know the man better with each passing moment, you couldn’t help but admire him for all the success he’d achieved.

“Gosh. Where are my manners? I haven’t offered you anything to drink, Miss Y/L/N.” Tony exclaimed, right as one of his bots whirred in with a silver tray that had a bottle of champagne on ice with two glasses.

“Robots bringing in champagne? You planned this, didn’t you?” you chuckled, finding it rather hard to refuse it. I mean, it wouldn’t really hurt having one glass. Right?

“I’m just trying to make a good first impression.” he shrugged, popping the bottle open expertly before filling the two glasses.

“Why? You’re not an overzealous frat boy.” you teased, taking a sip of the champagne while holding his gaze.”

“Oh honey, I’m much better.”

There it was again.

The tingle of excitement you felt deep within your belly every time you had a banter. Even though you wouldn’t admit to yourself, you were attracted to the man. He was just so sure of who he was, he carried himself with a certain confidence that was quite sexy.

For the next couple of hours, you two spoke about anything and everything, making you realize how easy he was to talk to despite the age difference. You spoke about your relationship with your parents, your eyes lit up each time you mentioned how your father had been your biggest cheerleader while Tony listened with a soft smile on his face. His phone kept buzzing every now and then and he kept dismissing it. When it rang for the fourth time, you thought it was time for you to head back since you’d stayed for longer than you had intended to.

“You should get that, it’s probably important. I’ll get going.”

Tony stood up with you, not really ready to let you go just yet, though the incessant buzzing of his Stark pad was hard to ignore.

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you for another glass? Perhaps some wine? Happy could drive you home later..”

The offer was tempting, and you weren’t ready to say goodbye either but you had to. You would see him next week anyways.

“Thank you, but I think I should head back, it’s late. What you’ve done with Stark Industries is truly remarkable. Thank you for sharing your story with me. You’re an incredible man, Tony. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for it.” You smiled, meaning every word you’d said.

He had been complimented many times before but something about your words made him believe it. He felt his heart dance a little with joy.

“See you on Wednesday then?”

“Uh yeah. See you.”

Deciding on a friendly hug, you wrapped your arms around him, breathing in his scent, something so oddly comforting about it. Smiling to yourself when you felt Tony’s breath against your hair, you pulled back only to find him staring at your lips. You kissed him on the cheek quickly, and stepped back, not trusting yourself to not make the same impulsive decision no matter how much you wanted to do it.

“Bye, Tony.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He watched you until the elevator doors closed, leaving you to let out a sigh and lean against the cold metal. The whole way down, you contemplated what it would be like to kiss Tony, recalling the moment your lips had touched the other night. It only lasted a second but it hadn’t left your mind ever since.

You wanted to do it again.

You wanted more. Him. In every way possible. It was like a need you felt that drew you to him, like a moth to a flame. You knew it would be dangerous and yet it was impossible to resist the temptation.

It was probably why you decided to go with your instincts and press the button that led you back to Tony Stark.

He had his back to you when you reached his floor again, you saw the same flame of desire dancing in his eyes that danced in yours as he turned to find you standing there. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as you took long strides and he met you halfway, lips colliding in an instant.

You felt your breath knocked out of your chest as you kissed Tony Stark, a rush of excitement surging through your body as his arms went around you to pull you flush against his chest, keeping you there. You gasped at the intensity and Tony used the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss.

A lingering taste of champagne mixed with a hint of coffee is what you tasted as you gave in and your hands found their way around his neck, carding through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Not realizing he had walked you back until you were met with the cool wall behind, you felt Tony smile against your lips before they trailed lower, along your jaw, down to your neck. Letting out a soft moan, you tugged on his hair silently signaling him to not stop. Desire flooded through you and gathered between your legs as he continued nipping at your skin, reveling in the little sounds you made. His hands slid up your body to brush against your breasts, his thumb deliberating until your nipples stood erect against his touch.

You felt goose pimples across your body where he touched you as his hands slipped inside your blouse, wanting to feel more of your skin. Wasting no time, Tony unbuttoned it hastily and threw it to the side, bringing his lips over your collarbone, littering small kisses along it.

Letting out a sigh, you felt his hands toy with the hem of your jeans as his mouth closed over your bra-covered nipple. You weren’t alien to the feeling but your eyes fluttered open when Tony unzipped your jeans and let it slide down your legs.

“Bedroom?” he asked huskily after you’d stepped out of them, leaving you in a matching pair of lingerie. You managed a nod before following him inside his bedroom, a heady cocktail of desire and lust swimming in your mind as the man gently laid you against the soft mattress.

“So gorgeous, Y/N.”

He crawled over you with purpose, his gaze darkening as he took in your form before his lips crashed against yours once more. The kiss had more urgency this time, while he prodded your legs open to allow you to feel his growing erection.

You let out another gasp feeling his hardness brush against your core, a rush of ardor followed by sudden insecurity made its presence known as you sat up on your elbow, breaking the kiss.

“Tony, I’ve never um–I mean I’m a–” you fumbled with the choice of words, heat creeping up to your cheeks as you tried to convey you had never done this before. Tony rested his arms on either side, still breathing heavily as he took your words in, his own heartbeat pounding against his ears while blood had rushed southward.

“Do you want to stop? We can if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, not wanting to back out this but you had apprehensions which he could sense. Gently caressing your bare legs, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Tell me what you want.”

You answered by pulling him in for another hungry kiss and wrapping your legs around him to let him know the answer.

“Words, sweetheart.” he murmured, rolling his hips towards your center once again.

“I want you, Tony. I want this.” you managed, unbuttoning his shirt quickly, surprised at your assertion. In the darkness of the room, the blue glow emitted from his arc reactor acted like a source of light, rendering his features luminescent.

With a couple of hasty kisses against your lips, he made you lie back before trailing his path of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, discarding your bra to expose you some more. Cupping one in a hand, tweaking the nipple between his fingers, Tony closed his mouth around the other one, coaxing out a needy whine.

Treating both of them equally, he allowed his hand to travel lower to cup your sex over your panties, smirking as he found them already damp. You felt your breathing turn shallower as his fingers traced along your clothed slit, brushing against your bundle of nerves every so often.

“I want to taste you, sweetheart. Want to know if you taste just as sweet down there as you do here.” Tony’s words turned your insides to jelly, his lips sucking on your tongue as he slowly peeled the last remaining cloth from your body.

Your heart hammered inside your ribcage as he kissed his way down your body, settling between your legs, holding them apart as you instinctively went to close them.

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

You did as you were told, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue as you felt his breath down there, the air making your glistening folds shine eagerly. He first laid small kisses along your inner thigh before his tongue peeked out to tease you open. You let out a cry when his tongue licked a strip up your entrance, the action wildly exciting and new for nobody had gone down on you before. You felt him draw small circles around your clitoris, sending waves of desire down your spine as you squirmed for more.

“Oh my God!” you panted, anchoring your hands in his hair while he continued.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” he did everything in his might to not devour you the way he wanted to, knowing you’d probably feel overwhelmed if he did. In all honesty, your scent drove him mad and your taste was irresistible, he couldn’t get enough.

“Yes! Feels so good, Tony!”

Your words encouraged him to continue the assault, every lick and nudge drawing the sweetest of sounds from you. Your wetness gathered on his finger as he traced a line along it, pushing it inside your heat, grunting as he felt your walls immediately clamp around it.

“Relax, Y/N.” Tony repeated, slowly stroking you with his finger, getting you ready for his cock that strained against his pants. Your slickness helped when he added another finger, drawing out yet another moan as you felt an increase in pressure down there.

His thumb brushed against your clit while he massaged your walls open for him, making you lose all sense of coherence as you felt something building inside of you. The familiar tightness low in your belly when you pleasured yourself when alone, only this time, it felt like it had increased by tenfold. Tony held you down as your hips rose up from the bed in their own accord, matching his ministrations. As your moans got louder, you sensed you were close, tugging on his hair once more, you felt your walls tighten around his fingers.

“Let go, Y/N. Come for me.”

And you did. It felt like a tight-wound rope snapped, giving way for an intense wave of pleasure that shook your body. It felt exhilarating at the same time unreal, like you were floating away on a cloud of bliss. When you came down from your high, Tony had discarded his pants and was slanting his lips over yours, letting you taste some of your essence.

Feeling bolder now, you reached between your bodies to stroke his hard cock over his boxers, hearing his breathing hitch.

“Remove them.” He ordered, aiding you when pushed them down his legs to let his cock spring free.

You felt your walls clamp around nothing at the sight of him, he was big, making you wonder if it would hurt when you finally had him.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you watched Tony tear open a foil of condom and roll it over his length. Settling between your legs once more, he kissed you again, this time with a languid urgency.

You tensed up as his erection poked against your core, sensing it Tony broke the kiss to look into your eyes for signs of apprehension.

“We can still stop if you want to, Y/N. Just say the word.”

Appreciative of how considerate he was being, you knew you were ready. You wanted him, as much as he wanted you. Wrapping your fingers around his length delicately, you stroked him a few times, watching his mouth fall open.

“I want you to fuck me, Tony.”

You whispered, lying back against the pillows and allowing him to take control. He lined up against your entrance, gathering your arousal as he went before slipping just the head of cock inside.

“This will hurt a little. Breathe through it for me?”

Nodding, you felt him push in further, letting out a grunt at your tightness. He was right, the girth of him sliding inside your channel felt odd but electrifying. Tony felt his cock push past the barrier as he entered you, giving you time to get used to the feeling.

You let out a cry as he bottomed out, the feeling of fullness overwhelmed your senses as the pain stung.

Retracting only a little at first, Tony drove his hips back into you, repeating the action a few more times as you felt pain receding and giving way to a new kind of pleasure.

“More.” You begged, digging your fingers into his back as he complied.

Your tight heat felt so amazing around his cock, Tony felt himself getting lost in the feeling. Steadily he set a pace, pushing you against the mattress as his hips speared into you, drawing sinful moans.

The feeling of being wound up again took over, Tony smirked as you wrapped both your legs around his hips tighter, the new angle making his cock reach deeper inside your pussy.

“You’re so tight, Y/N. You’re close again, aren’t you?” He breathed, increasing the force of his thrusts to make his pubic bone brush against your clit.

“Yes! I’m so close. Please, Tony.” You whimpered, moving your hips to match up as sounds of your combined pleasure filled the room.

Reaching between your bodies, he teased your clit while driving in and out of your sopping heat, aiding your second orgasm. You felt yourself clamp around his cock before the same feeling of euphoria took over, making your walls spasm out of control.

Vision blurred and body convulsed under the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your veins as you rode out your high. Tony grunted against your ear as your spasming walls fueled his climax, causing his balls to tighten before he emptied himself in the condom, holding you close. Gingerly, he pulled out of you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness you felt.

“You okay?”

“More than okay.” you grinned lazily, accepting the soft kiss he offered.

As tired as you were, you didn’t protest when he nudged you to get up, leading you to the shower for a quick clean up, the soreness between your legs evident.

You exchanged several kisses in the shower, the hot water working wonders on relaxing your muscles, making it evident you were in need of a nap soon.

Once fully dressed, Tony resisted the urge to make you stay again and walked you out while your car stood, waiting. He could sense you were preoccupied with something since you hadn’t said much.

“Tony, about the photoshoot..”

“Oh no, that’s no longer required. I just wanted to sleep with you.” He shrugged, making your stomach drop for a second before he chuckled, enjoying his joke way more than you did.

“Come on, Y/N. I asked you because you’re the person for the job. This doesn’t change anything.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist to give you a quick kiss.

That definitely quietened your insecurities, but it didn’t ease the thought that you had lost your virginity to this gorgeous man who was not only older, but very good friends with your parents. If they ever found out…

On your way back, you also thought about how you’d break the news to Izzy, there was not a thing you kept from her. And if you didn’t, you were positive she’d find out somehow, she was quite shrewd about these things.

As uncertain as you were about it all, you couldn’t shake off the fact that you had slept with Tony Stark.

And it was fantastic.

Changing into comfortable clothes, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with a smile that refused to leave your face before deciding on pulling out your phone.

Cocky billionaires are still not my type, you know…

You texted Tony once you reached home, a big grin on your face, waiting for his response as the three dots appeared almost instantly on your screen.

Oh I know. Maybe I’ll change your mind. Actually I’m pretty sure of it.

Thoughts?

[tomarry-harry-meet-more-harry]

Typical time-travel tomarry Harry meet Typical A/B/O Tomarry universe; 2- ABO Harry

Context: Following a typical A/B/O Tomarry story, Harry would be an Omega, Voldemort (let's go with snake-face) will be an Alpha. However, the view of Omegas in these omegaverse tend to lean towards weak and easily dominated- so, assuming Harry wasn't born an Omega (otherwise Voldemort wouldn't have deemed him worthy of being the 'chosen one') and instead presented later during his teens, the context I'm going for in this one is the Omegaverse Order summon an other Harry Potter from a different universe to take the place of their own Omega Harry Potter, whom they consider too weak to fight.

Ginny expected a lot of things from the summoning of the Other Harry.

Of course, the children weren't allowed to take part; after all, the ritual required blood and was thus Dark magic, so only the adults were allowed to do it (due to them being less easy to sway away from the Light cause). In fact, the children were all locked up in the floors above to ensure minimum contact, despite Fred and George's loud and passionate protest and Ginny's best attempts to get out.

That didn't mean they couldn't eavesdrop though.

Crouching on the floor right above the ritual room, underneath the dining table, the Weasleys, Their Harry and Hermione gathered, bent over their Extendable Ears and trying their best to make out what was happening.

"I bet you guys each a Galleon he's going to be an Alpha," whispered Ron, only for scoffs to echo around their little circle.

"Of course he will be," Hermione huffed. "How else is he supposed to reject Volde- sorry, You-Know-Who's Commands?

Fred (or George? Ginny was fairly sure that's Fred.) squinted and wriggled his Extendable Ear around.

"We're not taking that bet." he said, "We aren't that stupid, you know." George took it and tried his own share of wriggling. "Now be quiet! We can't hear anything."

Ginny glanced sideways to Their Own Harry, who was worrying his lips between his teeth, frowning as if in deep contemplation. She fought the urge to coo at him. Before his presentation, he had been cute; now, he was positively edible- just looking at him made Ginny want to cry and squish and feed all the same time.

She couldn't wait until her own presentation.

Smiling, Ginny shifted closer and hooked their pinkies together, causing him to cast a wide-eyed, emerald glance up at her in surprise. In the darkness of under a dining table, his eyes almost seemed to glow. She leant in and tucked her head into his space, enjoying the closeness.

"Are you okay?" she asked, so quietly that Harry wouldn't have been able to hear if she hadn't had her mouth right against his ear.

Harry flushed slightly and nodded. Ginny hummed but didn't move away.

Their Own Harry has been furious when the decision was made that he would no longer fight and he has been quieter ever since. Ginny couldn't blame him- imagine if her family wanted to summon a different Ginny because they didn't think she was good enough! She would have felt apocalyptic. It was for his own good though. He would suffer badly if he tried to fight now, hence why the ritual was necessary.

"...-What's going on?" Floated an unfamiliar voice from up the Extendable Ear.

Their little eavesdropping group inhaled collectively in excitement and unconsciously leant closer.

"Tom!"- "An Alpha!" hissed Hermione. "I knew it!" Ron exclaimed.- "Tom! This isn't funny! We talked about this!"

"Tom?" muttered Harry suspiciously.

Ron shrugged and mimed a shushing motion.

"Your Tom is not here. Drop your wand and raise your hands!" That was Mad-Eye Moody.

A beat of silence.

Ginny held her breath and strained her ears. What's going on? She wanted to lean closer, but Fred and George were in the way.

"...Professor Moody?"

The Other Harry knew Moody!

It was their first nugget of information about this summoned Harry, other than the fact he knew a Tom. The chances of that Tom being the Tom Riddle was slim though; Ginny couldn't fathom any universe where Harry and Tom were on speaking terms, much less say 'We talked about this' on a recurring issue!

"Your beard-" What's going on now? Beard? "Orion."

Sirius's dad? mouthed Ron, befuddled. Ginny frowned.

"Sirius."

So this new Harry knew Sirius as well as his dad. What does that mean? Ginny didn't have time to react, because a second later a loud crash came from downstairs, followed by gasps.

The loudness of that caused them all to jump. Ron's head slammed against the bottom of the dining table with a THUD as Fred cursed under his breath and readjusted the Extendable Ear. The noise from the Ear fizzed in and out of quality, becoming garbled.

The door to the room opened, and they all peered out guiltily up at a tired-looking Remus Lupin, his face dripping in disapproval.

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: End of the Line Gen 1 pt.87

3 hours later

Kason sat behind his desk with his head down. The fire had been put out and the workers had all been sent home for the day. The servo was destroyed and worst Rufus had been taken to the hospital. Kason called Mercury when they lifted Rufus into the ambulance and pulled off without him, claiming that he couldn't ride along because he wasn't family. Kiersten and M arrived at the hospital shortly after. Kason hoped to be there soon, he felt obligated to be with Kiersten, waiting for Rufus to wake up, but for now, he was needed at the office to square things away with the fire marshals and police.

When he'd spoken to M last the doctors had assessed Rufus's injuries. They ranged from 2nd-degree and minor 3rd-degree burns and a bump on the head. What they were most concerned about was the smoke in his lungs and the fact that he was still unconscious. The doctors put him into a medically induced coma in case he awoke and had injuries they were unaware of. Still, their top priority was to make sure his head injury was simply superficial and not something more severe.

Kason pushed the image of his friend's helpless body on the cold metal floor of Servo Hold 2. He had one more task to take care of and wouldn't leave without completing it. He took a deep breath as someone knocked twice followed by the door opening.

Kason: Come in.

Paris strutted in and stood in the center of the room. Following the incident, she'd refused medical attention, so when Kason dismissed the rest of the office for the day he'd asked her to stay behind for a while claiming he needed to get her statement for insurance purposes.

Paris: I've already told the police everything I know.

Kason: Have a seat Ms.Amyot.

Paris smiled as she sat down in one of the plush white chairs across from him.

Paris: Mmm, I like the way that sounds.

His insides twisted with disgust at her flirty tone. When he looked at her all he saw was her standing at the back of the crowd smiling as Rufus fought for his life. He forged forward fueled by his suspicion.

Kason: We need to talk about your performance up until this point.

Paris: Sure.

She shrugged, her tone suggesting she was bored as if the conversation didn't pertain to her. It was as If she'd forgotten she'd attacked Aria just hours earlier. She was aggrogant but he was about to cut her down to size.

Kason: Ms.Amyot, your work with the servos and other machines is okay at best. You miss about 40% of your deadlines and your attendance needs improvement.

Paris: Okay. Is that it? Is that really what you called me in here for or did you miss me while you were away, Kay?

He continued, ignoring her lastest failed attempts at seducing him.

Kason: You're rude to the clients and don't work well with the rest of the team. Computer Engineers and Mechanics alike.

The corners of her mouth dropped and she narrowed her eyes.

Paris: Excuse me. It's not my fault that your mechanics are babies and your computer techs are like teenage nerds.

Kason: You belittle and berate your co-workers. You make inappropriate advances and comments to your higher-ups and clients. Paris, I think it's safe to say you are the problem here.

She jumped up from her seat, he could see her mask of control slipping, but Paris was determined to regain the upper hand even if she had to play dirty.

Paris: So what! What are you going to do about it? Hmm. Keep me as an intern? Ha! Greg would never, my father will be sure of that. As for you, you're a nobody. Insignificant just like Madison, just like Rufus, just like your wife.

He clenched his fist at the mention of Rufus. Her hate for M was old news. But she'd never given Rufus a second glance previous to the company dinner party.

Kason: If I find out you had anything to do with what happened to Rufus. I promise you will regret the day you met me.

The threat seemed to get her attention and all traces of humor left her voice.

Paris: No one, makes me regret anything, Kay. No one.

Her lack of denial furthered his suspicion and deepened his hatred. He smiled knowing he would get the satisfaction of ruining her day as she had ruined so many others.

Kason: Well maybe this will make you regret coming to Brindelton Bay. Paris, Your fired.

Checkmate.

Her reaction was priceless.

Previous Next

Beginning

Poses: Josie Throwing in Anger

@ratboysims sitting and talking

[lil-binuu]

˖⁺‧₊𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

PART III ₊‧⁺˖

He almost didn’t hear you scream.

1680 words (buckle up!)

part 1

part 2

THE SERIES IS BACKKKKK

i’m so sorry for keeping y’all waiting 😭 it’s been a LITERAL MONTH. y’all are so patient and i really really appreciate it! i hope you enjoy!

Tw: strangulation, violence, pedophilia? elias admits he’s a dick, warden is a chill guy (hes actually also a bit of a dick but eh)

Nothing was going through Elias’s head as he ran into your apartment building and up the stairs, two at a time, calling your name repeatedly.

He nearly fell through the open doorway, lunging himself at the attacker on top of you.

It was difficult for you to scream with his hands around your neck, shoved straight against a wall. You tried to kick and push him off you but with your restricted breathing your eyes began to blur black and white.

As Elias dragged the man away from you, landing punches straight into his face, you dropped to the floor. Clutching your throat, gasping for breath through tears.

Your attacker lay limb on the floor, face bloody and messy.

Elias ran over to you, kneeling by your side.

His hands cupped your face, urging you to look at him.

You couldn’t even think, the thumping of your heart loud in your ears, muffling the words of concern from Elias.

He exhaled shakily, pulling you to his chest and holding you tightly.

You almost fell into his embrace, resting your head against him as you sucked air back into your lungs.

Elias held you as if letting you go would kill him.

You cried into his chest, tears running freely as he brought a hand to wipe them away.

Eventually, your breathing slowed. You wiped your eyes, looking up at Elias’s worried expression.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, blinking through the last of your tears.

“Does it hurt?”

“A l-little.” You whispered, reaching to your neck.

“Let me see.” Elias said, lifting your chin and stroking a thumb across your skin. “It’s quite red. And it’ll bruise, but I think you’re okay. Can you breathe fine?”

You nodded again, taking his hand to help you stand up.

Elias looked over to the man lying unconscious on the floor.

“Who is he?” You asked.

“A hitman. And luckily, a bad one.”

“Here. I got you ice.”

Instead of taking you to his apartment, which could have been dangerous if there was another hitman waiting, he took you to one of the Quetza Hotels.

You smiled weakly, eyes still red from crying- something that you apparently couldn’t stop doing no matter how hard you tried.

Elias examined your injury again, pressing the ice wrapped in cloth to your skin.

“I should’ve walked you in.”

You looked up at him, taking the bundle from his hand.

“It’s not your fault, I told you to leave.”

“Still, I should’ve been more careful.” His tone was regretful. You couldn’t let him feel guilty or at fault for this.

You took a breath. “I- I’m sorry, Elias. I’m sorry for getting mad at you a- and saying all of that stuff, you know I didn’t mean it, right?”

Elias put a hand around your cheek. “I know, baby.” And placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry too.” He sighed. “I was being a dick. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t good enough. You’re more than enough, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and I was acting so stupid for someone I cared about.”

You leaned forward, pulling him into an embrace. “Thank you,” You whispered. Finally. This is what you wanted, to stop the arguments, to stop pretending like you didn’t make each other complete, because you did.

“I shouldn’t have flirted with that guy, I should’ve known how it would make you feel. I’m sorry.”

He pulled away to look at you.

“It’s okay. It was my fault for not making my feelings clear sooner. I don’t even know what I was waiting for, I was just hesitating.”

You heard the door of the hotel open and looked over.

“I messaged him about what happened,” Elias explained.

“-I wanted to see for myself.” Warden’s gruff voice filled the room.

He came inside and set a briefcase on the coffee table in front of you.

“Is it critical?” He asked, bringing a chair over.

“No, I don’t think so. They can breathe fine and are just in a bit of pain.”

“It seems the ice helped?” Warden gestured.

You nodded.

“Yeah, thanks.” Elias said. “It’s less swollen now.”

“Does it hurt to speak?”

“N-not that much.” You answered.

“Good. Do you think you can ID the guy?”

You nodded again, “I’ll try.”

He opened the briefcase, revealing pictures and documents- mugshots and criminal records. He laid them out on the table.

“Don’t overthink it, just take a look at the pictures and see if you recognise anyone.”

It was simple enough. You took your time flipping through pictures. Men with big scars, tattoos branded across their faces, they looked like criminals. You came across ID logs of known hitmen and looked through them until you found one that resembled the man perfectly.

“Him.” You pointed to the picture.

“Are you sure?” The Warden asked, flicking through pages to find more pictures of the man. You remembered the face above you as he took your throat in his hands. There was no doubt it was him.

“Gabriel Murphy.” He set out a few more photos of different people. “These are known and suspected clients and affiliates” He gestured.

“We still don’t know who ordered the attack, but they might give us a clue.”

The rest of the pictures were people you had never seen before in your life. In a way, it was interesting to look at; to see the type of people who caused trouble. Until another photo in particular caught your eye.

“Wait- who’s that.” You exclaimed suddenly.

Your mouth fell.

“That’s my ex.”

The words hardly made it out, a mere whisper.

“What?”

Your confession captured Elias’s interest immediately.

“Ex? You dated this guy?”

You exhaled slowly, nodding.

“I- I met him when I was in high school.. I had no idea he did gang stuff. I guess he was the type…”

Elias was silent for a moment.

“Your taste in men is appalling.”

You frowned, pouting.

“Hey,” You nudged him with your arm, “My taste in men is you.”

Elias laughed, putting his arm around you.

“How did you even date him? Wouldn’t he have been way older if you were in high school?”

“Ugh, yeah. Gosh, I was so naive.”

“Noah Turner?” Warden asked, laptop out. Criminal logs loaded up on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

It felt like ages since you saw that face. He almost hadn’t changed. The same mopey haircut, infected piercings and chiselled jaw. How on earth did you find this guy attractive?

“It seems not only has Gabriel Murphy done these kinds of jobs before,” Warden began, “But Noah has been the client for several of them.”

You felt sick. You didn’t expect that Noah would actually do something like that. Could Noah have tried to get you killed? After all this time? And he’s done it before?

“So that’s it? We know who ordered the attack?” Elias asked.

“We still don’t know for sure, and we can’t go jumping to conclusions.” He paused for a second.

“There is one way that we’ll know for sure.”

Elias looked at him, suddenly serious.

“No. No, absolutely not.”

“I’m just suggesting-” The warden tried to cut in, but Elias raised his voice.

“No! You can’t do that. I won’t let you!”

You sat there, worried and confused. What was Elias so worked up about?

Elias saw your expression.

“He wants to see the face of a man who’s seen a ghost.”

He took a breath. “It means, if your ex sees you alive, his reaction will tell us that he either knew about the attack or ordered it.”

“Or neither.” Warden added.

“It’s too dangerous.” Elias shook his head.

“If we don’t find out who ordered the attack, it’ll happen again. Do you want to take that chance?”

Elias stood up, his voice hardly below a yell.

“Do you want to take the chance that they could die, if they go looking for the person who wanted them dead?”

“It’s a risk we need to take.” Warden demanded, closing the briefcase and rising to his feet.

“You’re heartless.” Elias scoffed.

“I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

“Best for me? You don’t even care about me.”

“Of course I care, Elias. Which is why we need to find who ordered this attack and this is how we do it.”

“There are other ways!”

“Name one. Whatever it is, it’ll lead us nowhere.”

“I won’t let you.” Elias said weakly. His voice was desperate now. Just a little boy tugging on the hem of his father’s trousers, begging for him to listen.

“It’s not your decision to make.”

The Warden turned to you.

“It’s yours.”

He took the briefcase and started towards the door. “For now, rest. Both of you. I’ll be in contact.”

Once he left, Elias sighed, sinking down back onto the couch next to you.

“You don’t have to do it.” He said, looking at you honestly. “Forget what he said, he’s incompetent. You don’t have to do it, we can find another way.”

“I don’t know..” You answered meekly.

Elias took your hand.

“Please say you won’t do it..” He whispered.

That night Elias couldn’t sleep. He was sick to his stomach on the thought of you getting hurt. He made a promise that he would protect you, not only to you but to himself.

He nearly lost you tonight. And he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He wasn’t going to put you in more danger than he already has.

He’d do anything and everything to keep you safe.

ITS YOUR DECISION:

warden wants you to find your ex, who has ties to the hitman who tried to kill you. if you find him, it’ll tell you whether he or someone else was behind the attack. if you don’t, it’ll only happen again; and the next time elias might not be there to save you.

(let me remind you that y’all have a crazy amount of plot armour)

hope you enjoyed! i’m not even sure if i like this very much but i had the idea about an ex for sooo longgg so i was glad to finally write about it and i hope i incorporated it into the story well?

i made so many drafts for this and hated all of them lol so i just decided to write this and trust that it was good enough 🥹

a/n: yall this is acc so dumb but im tryna be really inclusive and make the reader vague but why am i like worried to offend bald people by writing stuff about the reader’s hair… “He ran his hand through your hair.” “UM☝️BINU I DON’T HAVE HAIR HOW COULD YOU WRITE THAT? 😾”

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky x Sharon

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

**Previous chapter**

Cookie looked at the cold face of her friend, the man she had loved for 2 years and rasped out "Bucky. Please." She looked into his emotionless eyes and she realized this was it, she closed her eyes and tried to say "I forgive you" as she lost consciousness.

Chapter 6

Note: sorry this chapter took so long, hope it's worth the wait.

Warnings: Swearing, angst

The Soldat was distracted by a door slamming open, the sunlight that shone through it and the shield that hit him in the chest, knocking him back. He dropped an unconscious Cookie and turned in the direction of the distractions before stalking over towards them. He approached the man who threw the shield and a man in a red and gold metal suit but before he could throw a punch the guy in the metal suit put his hand up and some red mist came out. The Soldat covered his mouth and tried not to inhale it but failed.

Bucky coughed and shook his head before looking up to see Steve and Tony in front of him, holding defensive positions as they waited to see if it worked.

Bucky rubbed his eyes "Steve? What the Hell is going on?"

Bucky looked around as his head cleared and saw Cookie, crumpled on the floor and rushed over to her, falling to his knees.

"Cookie! Nonononono. Fuck! What did I do? Please doll, you have to be ok"

He started to reach out to her but pulled back when he saw the bruises starting to form on her neck. He turned to look at Steve and begged "Help her, please."

As soon as he sprayed Bucky, Tony aimed the mist at Nat, Sharon, Yelena and Antonia. All but Antonia shook themselves out of the trance they were in while Antonia tried to escape up the stairs. Unfortunately for her, Nat and Yelena were faster and tackled her to the floor.

Steve carefully picked Cookie up and hurried towards the quinjet.

Bucky stood, looked around and saw Sharon. He glared and started towards her when Tony stopped him. "We'll take care of them, you go back to the jet with Rogers and Cookie.

Bucky flinched when he heard her name "I don't think-"

Tony cut him off "Don't think, just go, everything here is handled."

Bucky just nodded and turned in the direction Steve had gone. When he arrived at the jet he saw Steve standing next to the medical bed where he had laid Cookie.

He turned to face Bucky "Friday is monitoring her but there doesn't seem to be any serious damage just some bruising. She'll be alright, Buck."

Bucky scoffed "Yeah, no thanks to me. I'll just keep my distance." and sat as far away from her as he could.

Steve tried to comfort him "C'mon Buck, it's not your fault. They were controlling you."

Bucky just turned his back to him without a word and Steve knew he would need some time.

Tony and Sam walked up the ramp with Antonia, Nat, Sharon and Yelena all in front while Clint and Sam were last so they could keep an eye on everyone.

Antonia was restrained and belted into one of the seats with Sam and Clint on either side. Tony took the pilots seat and they raced home as quickly as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cookie felt herself being pulled awake by an annoying beeping in her room. She tried to tell Friday to turn her alarm off but quickly realized that no sounds were coming out. She tried to clear her throat but it was painful like a sore throat when you're sick but much worse.

She tried to open her eyes but the room was too bright and as she sniffled detected a strong antiseptic smell.

Once she put it all together she realized she must be in the med bay.

Cookie opened her eyes again and was able to keep them open this time. She felt a hand holding hers and looked around the room to see dark hair. She squeezed the hand gently and tried to speak, which made her cough and woke him up.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

Cookie tried to speak but on squeaked and coughed. She shrugged and pointed at her throat.

"I know, I'm sorry Cookie. We tried to get there before it went that far but I'm glad we found you in time. Here, have some water." He sat her bed up and held the cup of water so she could drink from the straw. As she drank he explained that Bucky, Sharon, Nat and Yelena had all been controlled by Antonia with a serum that the Red Room had been using on the Widows, to keep them in line.

The cool water soothed Cookie's throat but when she tried to speak it still came out as a croak "Sammy" and made her cough again.

Sam set the water down "Dr Cho said your throat will be sore for awhile so no talking for a few days. If you can manage that, Imma be seriously impressed. Here, this will help." he handed her a tablet so she could type out what she wanted to say.

Cookie slapped his shoulder before taking the tablet and trying quickly into it. *How's Barnes?*

Sam shook his head "After everything that's happened, that's the first thing you wanna say?" he sighed "Bucky is fine. He's been in the waiting area all night but won't come in here. Blames himself, which he should, if you ask me."

Cookie scowled at him and started typing again

*I didn't ask. According to what you just told me, wasn't his fault. Tell his dumb ass to come in here!*

Sam looked at her, frustrated "I also just told you he won't come in here. Did he mess up your hearing too?"

Cookie sighed *Tell him I said so*

Sam shook his head as he left the room to talk to Bucky. It didn't go well.

Bucky refused "Goddammit Sam, I already told you I wasn't going in there. What if I see her and he decides to come back and finish the job? That was his last order and I don't know if it'll still be there when I see her. She deserves better than me. I'm stupidly damaged and can't promise she won't end up hurt, whether it's by someone I've hurt, Hydra wanting me back or just me and my unstable mind. I can't risk hurting her again. Just tell her I'm sorry."

Sam tried to reply but when he looked where the super soldier had just been standing, the entire waiting room was empty.

When Sam returned to Cookies room she frowned and he shrugged "I told you he wouldn't. He bailed before I could convince him. You're gonna have to wait till he's ready."

A few hours later Cookie was released by Dr Cho with the conditions that she take it easy and not try to talk for a few days. On the way back to her room she saw Nat and Yelena. Both women looked at the floor and mumbled apologies as she walked past.

Cookie was happy that she made it to her room without seeing Sharon. Even if she was being controlled, Cookie couldn't wipe the images of Sharon and Bucky all over each other or the nasty comments she had made. Maybe after some rest and time to put it all into perspective she would feel more rational about it.

Cookie wasn't sure what her next move should be since her being here seemed to be traumatic for everyone involved in her adventure. DC and Boston were always options. She could transfer to either one and still do her job without much trouble, thanks to Stark tech and wouldn't be too far away by plane or Dr Strange in a real emergency.

She knew that seeing Bucky every day, especially if he stays with Sharon or finds another "friend", would be challenging for her. Distance would help her heart heal, or so she thought.

She figured being out of his sight would help Bucky deal with his own trauma and guilt without her reminding him that the Soldat was still lurking.

After a couple of days Cookie was getting her voice back and had been released to go back to work. She noticed that Bucky always seemed to be lurking around but bolted everytime their eyes met. He wouldn't stay in the same room as Cookie unless there were briefings where he wasn't given much choice.

When Maria came to her office a week later, to see how she was feeling, Cookie told her what she was thinking and Maria tried to talk her out of it.

By the time Maria left her office, Cookie was sure of her next step and sent the papers to Nick Fury, already begrudgingly signed off on by Maria.

When her work day ended, Cookie headed to her room to start organizing and packing. She would miss her view of the lake and her friends here but she felt like she just couldn't stay with the way things were. Maybe in a few years she could get her head together and figure out how to convince her heart to let go of Bucky but it wasn't happening here.

Cookie told Sam that she was moving but made him promise not to tell anyone, especially not Bucky. She wasn't up to a teary goodbye with the whole team and didn't want Bucky to feel like it was his fault.

At her last team dinner two weeks later, everyone was there even Steve and Tony but only Sam knew it was her last day at the compound. Everyone else thought they were celebrating her clean bill of health the day before. As always, Bucky was nowhere to be seen while Sharon, Nat and Yelena were there but none of them had even tried to speak to her since they all returned to the compound.

Cookie figured they were dealing with their own guilt even if it wasn't really any of their fault but she knew Dr Raynor would help them work through it all. She convinced herself that her move was best for them as well, so they don't have to see her and feel bad about what happened.

The next morning she woke early, left her room packed for the movers to pick up and Sam flew her to her new home for the foreseeable future.

@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes @pattiemac1 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @calwitch @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ordelixx @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scott-loki-barnes @selella

Chapter 7

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Drabble 2/1/24

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @hitlikehammers who chose today's prompt. This one is for YOU!

Prompt: “I Couldn’t Lose You”

Set in post season 4, angst w/ a happy ending

featuring S3/4 Secret Situationship Steddie - post breakup

Rating: G | WC: 1407 | Ao3 link

“I Couldn’t Lose You”

Eddie opened the door. 

It was a reflex, really. 

Someone rings the bell, you answer the door. It’s an ingrained behavior, unconsciously done. 

He didn’t think about the fact that he wasn’t expecting anyone, or that it was past midnight and a decidedly odd time for unexpected visitors. In his defense, he didn’t know the simple act of opening his door would mean stepping into the past, and facing down the worst heartbreak of his life head-on after running away to another State to avoid it. 

“Oh.” Eddie gasped, the sound seeming to echo as the man on the other side of the doorway sucked in his own sharp breath. 

Pain lanced through his chest as he set eyes on Steve Harrington. The man he loved, who he hadn’t seen in over two years.

“It’s really you.” Steve said, blinking hard as if he couldn't believe his eyes. “I didn’t… I knocked on so many doors. I didn’t know your apartment number and–”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie interrupted, aiming for a bored disinterested tone, but the words came out a little too breathless to pull it off. 

He couldn’t help it. The only thing keeping him upright just then was the death grip he had on the doorframe.

What was Steve doing here? Eddie figured he and Nancy would have been halfway to the altar by now, if not already there.

“I…” Steve trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor. He gave a wry huff of laughter and shook his head before looking back up with guarded eyes. “Just answer me one question, and I'll never bother you again.” 

“Fine.”

Eddie’s heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure the other man could hear it. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to stand here and look at Steve’s unfairly pretty face and remember. It’d taken him so long to forget, to be okay after… after. 

“Why did you run?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t run. I moved.”

Steve scoffed. “Eddie, you snuck out in the middle of the night. We were both barely healed and I- I woke up and you were just gone. I went to your place and Wayne told me you’d packed your shit up in the van and left. No explanation, no note, nothing!”

Eddie shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“You could have told me!” 

“I couldn’t.”

“Bullshit.” Steve spat, his eyes beginning to shimmer with anger. “It was like you died, Eddie! One day you were there and the next you were gone without a trace. No number to call, no forwarding address.”

“Wayne knew where I was.”

Steve shook his head, expression hardening. “It was like you fucking died! And I don’t… I just need to know why.”

Eddie deflated. Any chance of keeping his aloof demeanor intact was gone under the weight of Steve’s gaze. What was the point anyway? He might as well tell him the truth. Maybe then he would leave Eddie alone to begin the process of picking up the pieces of his shattered heart all over again. 

“I couldn’t lose you.” Eddie began with a sigh. “I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, so I left.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. But after all that shit in the Winnebago with you and Nancy, I couldn’t just sit around and watch her take you from me. I thought If I left first, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I know that’s fucked up of me to say, as if you were ever mine to begin with, but–”

“I was.”

Eddie gulped, shaking his head reflexively. “No.” He breathed. 

Steve's face softened and he reached out, cupping Eddie's cheek with an almost painful tenderness. “I was yours, Eddie, and I thought you were mine– or at least I wanted you to be. Looks like maybe I should have been more clear about that.”

“Then why did you say those things to her, about an R.V. and wanting six kids, and–”

“Jesus, is that what this has all been about?” Steve asked, dropping his hand from Eddie’s face and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“There was also the eye-fucking.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie threw his hands up. “What was I supposed to think?! Here I was, falling head over heels in love with you, and the whole time you were dreaming about fucking off to Yellowstone or whatever with some picture perfect wife and your brood of equally picture-perfect children, like some non-musical version of the fucking Partridge family. Admit it, I was a detour. A glorified speed bump on your way to the life you actually wanted.”

“Baby-”

Eddie flinched hard at the use of the nickname, stumbling backwards out of Steve's reach. Horrifyingly he could feel tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Even more horrifying was the fact that Steve was following him into the apartment and shutting the door. Hadn’t he done enough, now he had to literally invade Eddie’s home?

“Baby, please-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. I-”

“Why are you still here? You got your answer. I don’t know what you needed it for but you can go back to your life with little miss perfect now.”

Eddie staggered to the couch, knowing if he didn’t sit soon his shaking legs would betray him. He pulled a throw pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly as he rested his chin on it. 

Steve crouched down in front of him, but Eddie studiously ignored his gaze. 

“What are you talking about? Nancy?”

“Or whoever the current little miss perfect is. I know you’re not picky.”

“Ouch.” Steve said, though not like the barb had actually stung. He reached out towards Eddie’s knee, moving slowly to give him every opportunity to protest.

He didn’t.

”There is no little miss perfect.” Steve said softly.

Eddie whined involuntarily. Squeezing the pillow tighter and tighter to his chest. 

“It was true, what I said to Nancy in the RV. I did always have that dream. The part I didn’t get to say, because we were a little busy at the time, the part I would have told you if you’d asked me about it, is how the dream had changed. When you and I became, whatever we were back then, the dream became less about having 6 little Harringtons, and more about the person in the passenger seat. The one I really wanted to share my life with, the family we might build together by adopting our own kids some day, or the family we found with the little brats I can't seem to get rid of even though they’re about to graduate high school.”

Steve knelt down in front of Eddie more solidly, gently prying the pillow out of his iron grip. Eddie let it go. His eyes were locked on Steve’s as he let everything that was just said to him sink in.

“Say something, please.” Steve begged, taking both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Is it still me?” Eddie croaked out, his throat tight as he fought not to cry. “In the passenger seat– is it still me, or did I fuck everything up?”

Steve smiled broadly, a few tears of his own escaping his eyes to roll down his cheeks. “I’ve been looking for you, all this time. I love you. Of course it’s still you, baby.”

Eddie surged forward, crashing his mouth into Steve’s. Their lips slotted together perfectly, just as they always had, as if no time had passed at all. Eddie threw his arms over Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close, as Steve wound his hands up into Eddie's hair, gently tugging. 

They parted only when they had to, or else risk passing out from lack of oxygen. Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s while they both caught their breath.

“I love you too… still… always. In case that wasn’t clear.” 

Steve snorted the most unattractive laugh imaginable, but it was music to Eddie’s ears. He hadn’t heard that sound in far too long, and it warmed his heart almost as much as the kiss to know he’d caused it.

“I don’t know, Eds. I think you might have to show me again.”

Eddie was happy to comply.

He grinned, leaning in for another deep lingering kiss. 

Thank you @penny00dreadful beloved friend and beta!

[jaydizzel2844]

Marie x Jordan Drabble

No 2.

———

“Hey Emma,” Marie said as she met the blonde out in the courtyard after her lectures.

“Sup, you heading back to the dorms?” She asked as she struggled to get her folders and notes into her backpack without dropping her Turbo Rush can.

“Yep” Marie said quickly taking the can out of her hand before it spilled everywhere.

As they entered the dorm building Marie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled the phone out and unlocked it, the motion was a bit awkward she was still getting used to having a smartphone.

“Emma would it be cool if I went to Jordan’s instead?” She asked, reading the message.

“Sure, you get a booty call?”

“No. Well maybe… Jordan’s just asking me to come over so it could be that or they’re sad and want cuddles. “ Marie paused “don’t tell anyone that last bit”

“What that Jordan Li is a secret softy who likes cuddles? Don’t worry my lips are sealed. Best friend confidentially. “

“Thanks”

“Which one do you think it is, horny Jordan or sad Jordan?” Emma asked as they got into the elevator pressing the buttons for their floor and Jordan’s.

“The second one I think. They were expecting a call from their parents.”

“Shit one, hey can I message you for cuddles when my mom calls me?”

“Sure if I’m not busy with Jordan.”

“Fair enough, I’ll make sure to coordinate with them,” the elevator doors opened at Jordan’s floor “see ya later”

“Bye”

***

Jordan opens their dorm room door in femme form wearing sweatpants, a wife pleaser and a frown on their face.

Sad Jordan it is, Marie was right.

“Hey” she said softly “wanna get into bed and watch Property Brothers?”

Jordan nodded and flopped onto the bed, curling up into a ball.

Marie quickly took off her shoes and jeans and got into bed behind them, pulling their smaller form into her arms.

The two of them stayed curled up together in silence for awhile before Jordan turned around in her arms and buried their face in her neck.

“The call didn’t even go that bad. I shouldn’t feel this shit. “ they mumbled into her skin.

“It’s ok to feel sad about the way things are with your parents.” Marie said bringing her hand up to run through Jordan’s hair.

“Yeah, it’s just I was telling them about how my ratings had gone up to third place and about you and it was going great. Then my dad asked if I was being a gentleman with you and I said of course I’m a gentleman and he got all weirdly excited cuz I referred to myself as a man. Which he always does, it’s so annoying. I tried to explain that I don’t really see gentlemen as a gendered term but my mom changed the subject. It just sucks. “

Marie gives them a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead.

“Yes it does “

Jordan nuzzles into Marie as their hands start to wander, clearly perking up after getting all that out.

“So you’re a gentleman?” Marie asks in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, I like open doors for you and shit.”

“That’s true, you do briefly remove your hand from my ass to open the door for me. It’s very gentlemanly.”

“Hey.” Jordan exclaimed as they leaned back to look Marie in the eyes. “My hands arnt always on your ass.”

“Jordan your hand is on my ass right now.”

Jordan blushed furiously as they pulled back the hand that was unconsciously copping a feel and mumbled something about putting on a Property Brothers episode.

[ghostybaby000]

He found you. Again. | Part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

 Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: I suggest going back to the previous parts of this juicy read first! They're each linked above.

Warnings: 18+, violence, blood, stabbing, light flirting, symptoms of a panic attack.

Word count: 2.5k

(Not entirely edited, apologies for any incorrect information!)

You opened your eyes slowly to see his now bare hand extended towards you. He had taken the bloody glove off although you picked up that his knuckles were still deep red, one of them split. Taking his hand, he led you out of the hallway where you caught a glance at what once looked like a man. He was now covered with a bloody face, swollen eyes, a cut brow bone and what appeared to be a broken nose. You think you saw what was a blade stuck in his side and turned your head at the sight as you continued being led out. Ghost hadn’t said another word as the thoughts pounded through your head, leaving your apartment any phone or personal item left behind, stepping over the broken shards of the lamp and the bulb it held. There was a person on your floor bleeding-was he dead? Was he unconscious? Did you need to call the police? What would happen to him? What would happen to Ghost? How do you even begin to explain this to-

You were at his apartment room door. He dropped your hand for a moment to unlock the door and reconnected to lead you inside. You hesitated as he gave a small tug looking back at you,

‘It’s alright.’ You don’t know exactly what it was that made you go inside, but you did and he took you over to the bathroom. He opened the door and told you to wait, returning within a minute a T-shirt and sweatpants in hand, and gave them to you.

‘Go on and shower up, I’ll be out ere’ when your done.’ He told you this and made his way to his living room taking off his other glove in the process.

You stood surprised for a moment and then realized that you had sweat and fear riddling your body still and decided to have a shower after all. Feeling the hot water you didn’t realize you needed so badly you broke down, all at once and found yourself weeping on the floor of a stranger’s shower, for how long there was no telling. Once you were done you changed into his clothes that were far too large for you and stared into the mirror, your body was tired and it showed, your eyes were puffy red which you assumed would last a few days and your hair was rough considering you didn’t use any products. 

You slowly opened the door to see Ghost making up a bed on the couch with an extra pillow and blanket in the low lit room. You weren’t exactly sure what his plan was but you thought it considerate nonetheless. You walked over to him with your towel and dirty clothes in hand, pausing and waiting for him to direct you.

‘Throw those in the bin over there and you can rest up in my room for t’night.’ You paused and saw that he was continuing to make his temporary bed on the couch, noting that he had changed as well into sweatpants and a shirt and went to put your things in the bin. You walked back out to see him sitting on the couch, and paused before moving toward the hallway. 

‘it’s the one on the right’ His voice calm and his accent now soothing to you.

‘I…it’s just.’ You start to turn around and face him. ‘Would…would you mind staying with me, for tonight? I-I don’t think I can handle being alone after...everything’ Your voice trailed off in the end in a shy way not wanting to ask, but needing to. His head that was previously looking at the floor comes to meet yours in a slow gaze, and even in the dimly lit room you can still make out his half lidded eyes. He takes a moment to himself, just sat there thinking as he looks back to the floor. 

You thought that you had been asking for more instead of thanking him and going off to bed, so instead of waiting you head to his room and close the door so it was cracked. You get into his unfamiliar bed truly exhausted physically and mentally. You would typically have a hard time falling asleep under a strangers roof, but found yourself to be nodding off quickly. You’re just getting to sleep when the creak from the door makes you stir, yet too tired to open your eyes. The door creaks again in closing, and you feel the bed dip significantly on the other side, allowing you to drift to sleep immediately. 

You woke up in a haze, first confused at where you were and how you had gotten there. You had to slouch back into the bed when the rush of thoughts came into your mind, leaving you feeling drained all ready. When everything had caught up to you, it dawned on you that Ghost had already been up and out of the room for a while, no noise to be heard throughout the apartment. Now that it was day time you could look around his apartment, and found it to be rather simple. Some gear on the floor near the closet, his clothes hung up neatly with a few things on a bed side table. 

Just as your making your way inside, he appears in the doorway taking a moment to close and lock re-lock the door. He doesn’t say anything but instead moves to the counter and makes himself a cup of coffee, as you sit down at the bar across from him. 

‘I never said thank you, last night…’ You say looking at the counter, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

‘You don’t need to say thank you’ He takes a moment from drinking his coffee to look at you, feeling calm watching those half lidded eyes as he looks back to his drink. You continue,

‘…So what happens now?’

‘I took care of pretty much everything next door, the police came and had him taken- he didn’t seem to recall to much.’

‘Oh good I wasn’t sure if I needed to call them or, I wasn’t sure if he was even ali-‘

Your voice trails off, you didn’t want to think of that or how it would weigh on your mind.

‘He left there and they said he would be a’right after some surgery and healin’ time.’ Your shoulders relaxed knowing that there hadn’t been a murder in your home, although it could have been had he not showed up. 

He paused now, setting his mug down and taking a long moment to look at you, you were sitting there staring at the counter fiddling with the hem on his shirt. 

‘So who was he anyways?’ Ghost pulls you out of your thoughts as you look up.

‘Oh…I guess explaining that would be helpful. I was dating his friend a while back in highschool, and he had become obsessed when his friend ended up lashing out on the both of us. It turned physical and I think he has some crazed sense he needs me to be with him so nobody else can get to me…Something like that. I really don’t know-‘

‘That’s okay, you don’t have to explain it all.’ His voice also trails off in a quiet way, when you decide that you should speak up. 

‘I don’t think I could ever repay you, you probably saved my life I…I don’t even know what to say.’ You look up at him, tears again forming in your eyes- the sting making you blinded for a moment before wiping it off and sniffling.

‘Don’t bother with thanks, I’m just glad I was there…I don’t think you would have been able to fend him off.’ He shot you a small smile that you could see in the crinkle of his eyes. He continued,

‘You’re welcome to stay with me, I haven’t got a whole lot here but I can understand not wanting to be in that space. They got everything cleaned up but, memories can be difficult to ignore.’ You saw his eyes flicker, changing ever so slightly as he recalled his own hardships. 

Thinking back on his own memories, Ghost sat and thought for a moment. He was worried that you had seen too much, and hoped you hadn’t seen him as awful as he’d imagined. He saw you that night, so scared when he was at the door, the mans hand wrapped around your throat. He was enraged at how awful he was being and when it came to attacking him, he was off the leash. 

You had been what stopped him. He heard you wince as you watched and had to tune out of his combat mode, had to stop and make sure he’d done enough damage before consoling you. The way you backed away from him when he stepped off of him made him hurt, you had been so kind every time you had seen him just wanting to be friendly. 

He tried to be as gentle when speaking to you as possible, knowing that you had been through so much and that a man should never speak to you like that again. 

He had been meaning to speak more to you, when he realized he had an interest for you. Nobody had wanted to know much about him and when he had seen you outside, he simply felt that it would be better to stay as neighbors- He was not a man fond of getting close to anyone. Now though, as he was staring at you in his clothes that were far too large at his bar, he realized he didn’t want you to leave. He knew offering for you to stay with him was a lot and that you probably felt on edge from the entire thing, but he could keep you safe and he promised himself he would. 

‘That’s very kind of you to offer…Are you sure though? That’s quite a lot to offer for someone that’s practically a stranger.’

‘Positive. You deserve to feel comfortable and I hope I can do that, or that this place can feel safe to you.’ 

Tears begin to welt again, you hadn’t felt this type of comfort since being at home with your mother. Wait, your mother- you’d have to call and explain everything to her, but at least she would feel good knowing the creep was finally behind bars for good. 

‘Well, I just might take you up on that…I’m going to step out for a call.’ You made your way to the door leading to your apartment, your phone was inside. You stood outside for a good long while, looking down you see the boot marks on the door where he had tried to get in, frozen in place. 

From down the hall Ghost noticed you hadn’t come back inside and came back out to look. He saw you standing there unable to move and brought a hand to the small of your back.

‘Are you alrig’t going in, or should I get something for you?’ Your eyes had already been filling with tears, now they had begun dropping to your cheeks. 

‘What do you need, your phone?’ You slightly nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat that had followed. 

‘Right, go on back to mine and you can use the one in there or just wait I can get it for you from in here.’ You were still stuck to the boot marks on your door, reliving the banging noises and his voice trying to get in. He sees that you haven’t moved and tilts your head up, cupping your face in one of his large hands. You take a moment to look into his eyes as it all came crashing down yet again. You felt yourself slipping to the floor underneath him, sobbing into your hands.

‘It’s alright, take a breath whatever you need’ You can’t catch your breath, and you realize you’re in the midst of a panic attack. You can’t feel your body but only the way your lungs hurt from heaving air in and out faster than you can think. Before you know it you’re being lifted off the ground and taken back to his room, where you had fallen asleep before even reaching the couch.

You were so much more fragile than he had thought. Sure he knew that you had been through a hell of a lot, but being in the military for so long he forgets that some just can’t handle these things like he can. 

When he lifts you up with ease, he’s careful to not hit your head on any door frame or wall or care about the tears and snot that were embedding in his shirt. He had taken a second to realize how small you were which in turn made him feel all the more anger for someone so large to be so cruel. He noticed too how soft your skin was compared to his and how you didn’t fight or resist when he knew to take you back. You had fallen asleep and he had sat next to you for the next hour or so on the couch, both watching you and simply letting time pass. 

When you woke with a stir he had already retrieved your phone and purse which were on the table in front of you and had fallen asleep himself on the couch when you awoke. 

You stepped into the other room to call your mom, who was of course horrified upon hearing this and grateful that Ghost had been there. She wanted you to come right home and stay with them, to which you refused as you finally felt truly safe. You promised her and your father who was now also intently listening that you would be in contact more than you were now and you would let them know if anything had happened. Afterwards you went back to the nook you had made in his couch and continued to sleep the rest of the day.

When you woke Ghost was again not on the couch but in the kitchen preparing dinner. You sat up, and slowly made your way to the counter where you sat down.

‘Yes.’ You sounded quiet from the sleep, but he heard you. You had made up your mind, and you knew what was best.

‘Yes, what?’ He stopped mixing whatever smelled delicious on the stove and turned to you.

‘Yes I would like to stay here, with you if that’s alright. I can but groceries and help pay the bills as well. I just enjoy the company.’ You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, looking to him for his response. 

‘More than alright with me.’ He smiled and turned back towards the stove.

‘On one condition.’ He whipped around, now coming around the other side of the counter and getting down to your level.

‘And what’ll that be?’ His voice was low and curious, but willing more than anything.

‘I’d like to know your name.’ You smiled genuinely for the first time in however many hours and began to turn a light pink around your cheeks. He let out a genuine laugh, one you hadn’t been expecting and turned to you.

‘Simon. My name is Simon love.’ You smiled up to him as he grazed your back with his hand and stood, returning to cooking. 

[3mcwritingmcuhcs]

How the Avengers Would React to You Falling Asleep on Their Shoulder (Part 2)

The last one was Thor and Wanda, this one is gonna be Bucky and Yelena, and I may do another with Peter and Steve.

Just like with Thor, Yelena is someone who is BIG on physical affection. Hugs, friendly little cheek kisses, squeezing your hand whenever she's excited about something--which is basically always--and just generally being a big bundle of sunshine.

Similar to her sister, she has her own problems with physical affection, but unlike where her sister prefers to preserve her personal space, whenever Yelena is around people she truly trusts, she is constantly giving some sort of physical affection.

The two of you will be walking to training and she'll hold your hand and swing it constantly, not caring if she hit anyone nearby--in fact, it was a plus to her, just to see the way you let out a startled laugh.

Now, it was one of your and Yelena's usual game nights that turned into the two of you staring at her ceiling while laying on the floor.

It was four in the morning, Yelena was rambling about her newest vest and all the pockets it had.

You had been nodding along, half delirious from lack of sleep, but determined to listen.

As Yelena found out, you had not managed to.

You had nodded off, your head sliding off her shoulder and falling into her lap. The pillow on her lap should've made that okay, but she also had some candy wrappers that crunched at the movement.

She looked down at you, startled, and lifted your head to clear the wrappers from under.

Not quite thinking, she just dropped your head, giggling at your disgruntled face.

She poked your nose.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

And then immediately passed out.

Natasha found the two of you in the morning, used to the both of you missing breakfast because one or both of you decided to go skiing despite the fact that there was no snow or hills nearby.

GIF by sebastians-stan

It was coming back from a mission.

It had been a long one, and the ride back to the compound in the quinjet was near nine hours.

You were good at getting along with most of the people on the team, but Bucky had always been rather guarded compared to the others.

You didn't blame him, and you still always made sure to say hi and ask him how he was doing, but you had never gone much further than that.

That plane ride though, you had been exhausted, and you happened to sit next to Bucky.

You had greeted him at the beginning and for the rest had stayed quiet, reading a book.

Two hours in though, your head had lolled and ended up on Bucky's shoulder.

He stiffened, looking at your unconscious face. He could tell you were sleeping, and he felt a little weird about it.

Not uncomfortable, but moreso just confused.

He had a reputation for being pretty unapproachable, and he knew that his past was common knowledge to the people around him, so he understood why so few people talked to him.

Of course, you were always polite, and maybe the smile you sent him did make his day, but he never pushed for any sort of conversation because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

After all, he had done some bad things.

But here you were, completely at ease, at your most vulnerable, and leaning on him.

He stayed stiff, not wanting to wake you up, and at some point, for the first time since he had fallen off that train, he fell asleep without a problem.

In fact, he fell asleep too easily, and slept too well.

Because when the quinjet landed and he was woken up, he found out that you'd been awake for the last hour and a half but hadn't moved from the uncomfortable position because you hadn't wanted to disturb his sleep.

The agents at the compound all though they'd been drugged that day because holy shit, was the Winter Soldier blushing as he exited the quinjet????

[asukaskerian]

prompt 4 for moshang with the mood "incensed" would be hilarous i imagine

Mythology - Foretold by the gods - moshang

--

So he might have, maybe, at some point -- some late at night or maybe very early point -- tried to figure out an OC for Mobei-jun to ship w fuck. Dude was so perfect, it was a shame his dump truck ass and sequoia thighs remained unembraced. (Also the whole "he's so mysterious and never opens up and unveils his deep thoughts and tender feelings except for me" fantasy but never mind all that.)

He'd gone exactly as far as 'Meeting: why tf would he notice anyone. Dashing rescue? Why does he need a rescue he's too cool and basically untrappable anyway, what are they rescuing him from socializing with his cousins lmao???' on his notes before giving up on making it realistic. The next scribble was 'cuz i said so ok next'. 

There had been no 'next'. His battery had died and when he managed to get home and get his laptop plugged in it was time for another word vomit on the topic of Bing-ge's meat truncheon.

[Secret side-quest: Easter egg! 1/536 discovered. Keep going!][Category: "is it a headcanon if you didn't think it up with your upper head?" 1/413]

'System-bro, what the entire fuck!?!' Airplane screeched inside his heart of hearts; ass on the floor (bruising), clothes askew (from sleeping in them!!), and the most gorgeous, terrifying man he'd ever seen staring down at him from the bed they'd crashed into (Mobei-jun first, because unconscious, Airplane later, because idiot) the previous night.

Because he had expected being sneered at; being talked down to; being attacked on sight. Being haughtily ignored, after sufficient groveling at crotch level.

But his most perfect, most unattainable creation, that Himalayan peak made flesh, saying that --

--

The problem with Airplane was, he didn't trust people. He didn't trust them to share their feelings and decisions with him freely instead of leaving him reeling at yet another swerve of which he was merely collateral damage. He didn't trust them not to lie to themselves, or even know they were lying to themselves, so even if they did tell him what they thought or felt he assumed they were doing the polite 'the real reason is none of your business but telling you to fuck off is rude' thing at best.

So yes, his favorite game from childhood had been to pick someone in the crowd and tell himself stories about their life. This guy is a grandfather of seven and doesn't know the birthday of a single grandkid and his eldest son just pointed it out to him, but not even angrily which is worse because that's how low the bar he failed to clear was, that's why the fancy package and the gloomy expression. That girl just broke up -- she's so angry though -- he was fucking her sister. No wait, her nails are short, it was a girlfriend for sure; she fucked her brother, a double betrayal. It had evolved into telling himself stories about his classmates and his half-siblings and his parents, since they were never ever gonna bother to invite him to take a real glimpse inside, anyway. 

He was fully aware that statistically speaking he was probably wrong a lot of the time, but 1. coming up with coherent narratives was satisfying enough to smother the jealousy and loneliness and 2. as far as he was concerned it was true until proved otherwise, which was never.

But a guy who gave him nothing to work with. That was a challenge. That was fascinating. 

....

But a guy who greeted him by "You are to be my husband?" with a tone of dismay?!

What the fuck! What the fuck!! What the flying dick-flapping fuck!!!

He was so shocked, he forgot to kowtow. 

"You uh. My king?" He hadn't made the guy so above it all that he landed straight back into a a naive ingenue, right? "Just sleeping on the same mattress doesn't -- people don't have to be married to share--" 

The muggy air of the inn room went so cold so fast that condensation rolled cold drops down his back. 

(The effect didn't last; there was a haze in the air, briefly, and then a suffocating breeze from outside ruined the surprise air-con.)

"You will not speak to me like an idiot child," Mobei-jun-to-be rumbled threateningly, and then ruined the cool by continuing in that wtf vein. "My husband will show respect to his wife or his wife shall reign as a widow."

Holy shit, now Mobei-jun was the wife???!?!??? What? What! Airplane was dead. Again. For good. 

He stayed down there sitting on his ass, waiting for the world to make sense. It didn't happen. The man of his masochistic dreams had crossed his arms over his massive bara titties like a barricade and was now sulking up there like an offended wi-- no, he couldn't even think it. 

"My -- my king? It's only, ah, your humble servant doesn't... recall... getting married...?"

Eyes as blue as the afterimage of a lightning strike speared him through, metaphorically.

"Not yet. But we must." 

He let out a long sigh; and his face didn't twitch when he moved to aggravate his wound, but the way he stilled for a breath was telling. Shang not-yet-Qinghua winced in reflexive sympathy.

"There is a prophecy."

"... Ah?" A prophecy. About his king. That he hadn't put into the story. That he hadn't even scribbled into the margins or thought about. 'System?!'

[Yes, valued User?]

"There is a prophecy for each generation, and most of them don't matter," the ice demon using that shitty inn bed as his throne said with a bitter tone. "But the eleventh ruler of the Northern Desert will be heralded by his foretold spouse; that is how he is confirmed."

"Ohh," Airplane said intelligently and with characteristic eloquence. 

"'You will know them by these things," his king quoted sourly, "first, they will heal you; second, share your bed; third, offer their hand, and service, and their soul."

'Their soul! Their soul!! I was offering my sneakiness and maybe my dick, ah?! System!!! Who told you to mess up my creation with made-up prophecies?!'

[The easter egg category: "is it a headcanon if you didn't think it up with your upper head?" belongs to the third rung of canon : Word of God.]

But he hadn't told anyone--

But he'd written it down, he remembered now. 'Cuz i said so.'

Oh god. Oh immortals ascended before him. Oh little ancestors in both and either worlds. Someone fix this for him. "My king. Haha. My king, that is -- so vague! So vague?! How can there not be a dozen candidates with criteria so -- so stupid? And if the prophecy is common knowledge then people knew them in advance?! How were you not sabotaged right and left--"

...Oh no. He was gorgeous when he smirked like this, slow and feline, satisfied. My king, so unfair.

"This prince has long since made it a point not to sleep where others may catch him." A delicate pause. "He has also made it a point to return misplaced agents to his most obstinate siblings's chambers at a time his elders may not miss them."

"--Oh. Disqualifying them for trying to disqualify you -- so smart, my king!" For a moment, he had gotten enthused. But then he remembered that they were discussing his sudden non-canon matrimony, and then he started poking it for plot holes. "But -- just anybody can share your bed."

"The language is old, and clear. The prophecy speaks of the only person to ever share this king's bed."

... Hhghhhk.

That stare. So hard. Offended. Those cheekbones. So cutting. That nose, regal; that hair.

"My king," Airplane said as he climbed up to his feet, eyes trained on the floor and his knees and the things spread on the table and anything else at all. "Have you ever thought that the 'sharing a bed' section was metaphorical?" 

He met the demon's eyes then, incredulous and angry, buoyant with it. "You haven't even shown me your dick and you think I should be making recompense?! What the fuck! Passing out on the same shitty mattress doesn't mean getting deflowered! I didn't knock you up with a snowball ass egg, why the fuck should I--"

Oh, he was tall. Also wide. Especially wide. Flatten me daddy indeed. 

Oh, he was angry.

"It is not. Metaphorical. Though if all you need is to see my body--"

His hand landed on his belt. Shang eventually-Qinghua stopped breathing, body hot and bubbling with too much emotion--

It read like one of his waifu plots, the Joan of Arc types, unconquerable holy virgins except via the pressure of greater good.

A vague scrying over some random-ass kingdom, a little prophecy and welp! Nothing to it, just gotta fuck it out for the marital bed and then never again. At least you getting lawfully reamed has saved Bumfucknowhereistan.

'System. Demerit if I say hell no?'

[The bonus Mobei-jun questline remains optional, and brings User no penalties on opt-out.]

'Great.'

Like hell he was jumping into marriage because he liked some guy's face and didn't want to be bothered by geriatric busybodies tittering over his lack of wedlock. Who was he, his mother?

"I'll pass. Sorry, my king, at least I'm ditching you long before the altar?"

And with a sweep of his hand, he dumped all his things off the table and into his qiankun pouch, and was jumping out the window and doing a sick flip trick on his trusty borrowed blade. Airplane over and out, bro! 

Thanks for nothing. Now his spank bank was forever tainted.

--

Three days later he was still dealing with bursts of anger and anguish and other moronic emotions, which didn't help navigating his miraculous return to the sect ("I was so scared!" lost its impact if he broke a sneery judgmental Shixiong's ankle with a well-placed kick) or the medical peak's nosiness ("Who cares about the bruises, my biggest injury is my blue balls and broken heart, thanks!") or Shen not-quite-Quingqiu's scalpel eyes.

His king's eyes were prettier. 

His king was never going to be his king. Optional quest line. Yeah. He vaguely wondered how the System planned to make him betray the sect, then, who for, and then decided it wasn't his problem. Fuck it. He was sure it could do blackout poetry with his notes and pull out some contrived justification that would amount for half as much incentive as Mobei-jun's everything. 

His fierce determination, his fearlessness, his skill, his -- his body.

His body that was extremely too visible on Shang in-his-soul-Qinghua's disciple bed, shoulders draped in furs and bountiful meaty muscle on full frontal display.

"I will not," he growled low and quiet, "be discarded by my spouse."

"Hhg."

He had snow leopard rosettes on his flanks in dusky blue, secret patterns never appeared in any cover art Airplane had commissioned. 

[Secret side-quest: Easter egg! 2/536 discovered. Keep going!]

... Oh god, it turned out Shang Qinghua was exactly as stupid as Bing-ge's most ice-cold chaste wives. Because 'lie back and think of England?' Yeah, he was going to think of England and that dick.

[mutable-manifestation]

Summer Vacation Summoning Shenanigans Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

***

“D- shit!" Red cursed, leaping to catch him judging by the suddenly much-closer voice and the arms now cradling his head and shoulders to keep them off of the floor. "Steph!" 

"Names~!" Spoiler sing-songed.

"We were going to have him wear the sensory suppression helmet!"

"Well, this worked just fine didn't it?" Danny hears a sloshing noise - probably the recapped chloroform bottle getting twirled.

"No." Robin deadpanned. "The timeframe of his unconsciousness will not be sufficient to reach the batcave and we will need the helmet anyway."

"Pppshaw," Spoiler dismisses. "The last time any of you guys checked the time it was, what, when you were proving you weren't secretly cult maniacs by showing him those news articles? Between then and when he wakes up he won't have any way to tell how long he was out. As long as he can't see the entrance by the time he's up it'll be fiiiine."

"You will also have damaged what trust we had thus far been able to build with him, likely setting back our investigation and thus both our ability to interfere with the League of Assassins and to help Danny himself," came Robin's scathing reply.

"...ah."

"We're wasting time," Red sighed, moving to sling Danny over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, judged by the shoulder now jamming into his stomach. "Thank you, Spoiler, for volunteering to drag the captive. Robin, doors."

There was a lot of boredom after that, mostly just listening to the three shuffling around and hearing some kind of hissing noise that he assumed was a hi-tech door or something, given everything he'd seen so far.

Then they were moving, and Danny realized he had no idea how long he should pretend to still be out. 

Luckily, just as he was debating playing 'waking up' the group stopped, Robin commenting it would be best to be stationary when he awoke to increase the time he might suspect had passed.

After being carefully propped up against a wall, he counts to thirty before letting his breathing return to normal, slowly opening his eyes.

He looks to Spoiler - kidnapped assassin slung over her shoulder - first.

“I’m gonna be real,” he starts before anyone else tries to speak. “I think something might be wrong with your perfume.”

Spoiler snorts and Red’s lips twitch in a suppressed smile, but Robin remains stoic.

“That was not perfume,” he says carefully. “It was a mild sedative, so that we could further obscure the location of the batcave. Perfumes are generally incapable of causing unconsciousness.”

“If no perfume: why smell good?”

Spoiler bursts into cackles at that, Red making a strangled noise between a cough and a laugh and slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Please do not attempt to use or offer chloroform to others to use as a perfume, it is a highly unsafe chemical and can be fatal,” Robin says, brows pinched into a vaguely concerned expression.

“Aw,” Danny pouts dramatically.

Red clears his throat.

“Spoiler is very sorry for springing that on you,” he starts, with a pointed look her way. “We had intended to talk to you about the need for another layer of obfuscation around our security.”

“Yep!” Spoiler grins. “From the bottom of my heart, my bad.”

Danny lays a hand over his chest, using the other to wipe away an imaginary tear as he chokes out “Of course I forgive you!”

Then he snorts, dropping his hands to lounge in his pockets.

“So now that you’ve taken me to a secondary, and a tertiary, and a…um - quadrertiatry? - location, which way are we going?” He makes a point to look back the way they came.

They’re quick to correct him, leading the way through the tunnels at a more sedate pace - a fast walk instead of the running from before.

They claim to be half way there by the time he wakes up  - they definitely aren’t. It takes a solid 30 more minutes.

At least now that Danny is ‘awake’ they’re talking again - mainly about Spoiler’s questionable taste in ‘perfume’ and whether or not it would be safe for any of the aliens they know to use as perfume - a very sneaky way for Danny to acquire more knowledge of alien biology, if he does say so himself.

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

Given their track record for getting along, everyone had been worried when Tim and Damian went missing at the same time. Sure, Damian had gotten a lot less murdery over the course of the last four years, but the worry was still there. 

When it turned out to be a self-imposed mission to Nanda Parbat they had worried even more. Unfortunately, no one else had been able to leave Gotham. By the time they could’ve caught up they would have been more likely to draw unwanted attention to their two strays than be of use.

Luckily, they’d managed to put the Riddler away that night, making it back to the cave just in time to receive Tim’s update - a success and a surprise guest.

A guest that, as far as they could tell, did not exist. 

No paper trail, no pictures, no appearances in any images or even audios as far as they could tell. Expanding beyond Illinois to the US in general didn’t turn up anything. A global search yielded yet another heaping helping of nothing.

There were some possible explanations, of course, but it was decidedly suspicious.

Any hope that the three had escaped unnoticed were dashed when they were over the pacific and the local branch of the League of Assassins began moving obviously enough for Oracle to detect them - branching throughout the city and posting up on various vantage points in some kind of search grid.

One group even made their way to Wayne Manor, posting up around the perimeter.

All in full view of cameras. 

One even waved. 

For a group like the League it was verging on something like polite. 

Or threatening. 

The utter lack of activity from any of them once they reached their apparent destinations put the latter option somewhat in doubt, however.

Even so, the situation was plenty alarming and Bruce had everyone arming themselves to the teeth while they waited and listened - not that Jason needed any encouragement even if he was still pouty about the lack of guns in the Bat-armory. 

Nightwing, being the loving older brother that he was, was quick to offer him a rubber band hornet to supplement his existing guns. He was immediately betrayed, narrowly dodging a projectile to the cheek.

Bruce had contacted the JLD about the situation not a second after the kid - Danny - said Ra’s was trying to summon the Lord of the Dead. 

Didn’t have to be deep into the occult to know that that was undoubtedly a very bad thing to allow to happen. 

With any luck, whatever ritual Ra’s was trying to use would be faulty and they would have more time to intervene and prevent him from finding something that would work.

Of course, to know that they needed to know what the circle actually looked like.

Good news: the kid saw the circle and seems to have a great memory.

Bad news: the kid set a condition for the knowledge and would not be swayed.

Good news: they personally know several aliens willing to help.

Bad news: literally every member of the JLD is ungodly hard to get ahold of at the best of times.

Good news: they managed to contact Constantine on the third try.

Bad news: he seemed very concerned by Bruce’s explanation of the situation.

Good news: he wanted to show up right away to help.

Bad (and worrying) news: he is currently too drunk to teleport. Or be awake, if the sudden snoring through the line is any indication.

So now Bruce is tracking his location and sending Supes to pick him up on the way so he can wait to sober up in the cave’s medbay.

Possibly for the best - given how talkative Danny was on the plane over Constantine might’ve lost it waiting for him to stop asking all the questions he’ll no doubt have.

Just another hour of playing suspiciously-polite-staredown with a murder cult and they might be able to get some answers.

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

Damian watched Danny watch the door to the cave open in fascination, eyes alight with joy. Enthusiasm.

It was a large part of what made the plane-ride with him so much less distressing; normally being in a closed space with someone who’d taken a recent dip in a Lazarus Pit would be…exhausting. Manageable, perhaps, but requiring constant attention to avoid potential - likely - harm.

Any concern about erratic, violent behavior practically melted away in the face of Danny’s attitude.

His exuberant curiosity. 

The zest for life that colored each and every word he said or expression he made.

In combination with the skill he must have to have escaped imprisonment by the league? His sharp mind (even if he did occasionally lack information that should be common knowledge - Damian himself had been much the same when he first came to live with his father, he would not judge him for that)? The strong negotiation skills he had demonstrated in their talk? His unflinching will?

His beauty?

Damian was captivated.

He watched as he gasped like it was the last air he would ever breathe when he laid eyes on the T-rex, causing everyone else to tense up.

Then he moved - nearly too fast to track - before slowing back down when he was within a foot or two of the dinosaur - and many feet off of the ground. That certainly supported the sheltered meta theory.

“You guys have a dinosaur in here!?” he yelled, flitting around it in a manner not unlike a hummingbird. “That’s so cool! Is it real? Or like, not real because it obviously isn’t alive but is it, like, taxidermed - taxiderm-y-ed? Or is it a replica? Or-”

“Animatronic, actually,” Father cut in, drawing his attention. 

“It moves!?”

“It used to. We keep it shut down for safety reasons, however.”

“Aww, boo,” Danny pouted, snorting at some unknown joke as he descended back to the ground.

“It’s nice to meet you, Danny. Though I do wish it were under better circumstances,” Father gestured to the table near the batcomputer - where the rest of them had gathered to wait - before moving that way.

“It could be worse,” Danny shrugged, following after - still floating.

Halfway to the table, Danny gasped again, this time accompanied by a small blue mist.

His head snapped to Jason - fast enough Damian was vaguely concerned for his neck - and paused to stare owlishly at him.

A glance revealed him to be visibly bristling at the attention, every muscle tense.

“These are my associates,” Batman cut in before anything unfortunate could be said. “You’ve met Red Robin, Spoiler, and Robin. This is-”

“Red Hood,” Jason cut him off. “And we ‘associate’ barely.”

“I’m Nightwing!” Richard shouted, one arm waving in the air for emphasis. “And I can totally fly!”

“Grappling hooks don’t count,” Hood shot down.

“They do so!”

Hood just stared

“Orphan,” Cass interrupted, as brief as ever.

“I’m Signal,” Duke added, making the last introduction. “And I’d hate to see circumstances worse than being hunted by a globally active death cult made up of highly trained assassins.”

“Hunted?” Red Robin asked, straightening up at the new information. 

“Most likely,” Batman answered as Danny finally joined them around the table - still stealing glances at Hood. Damian frowned.

“Not long after you left Nanda Parbat, the local branch of the League began moving - their assassins have posted up throughout the city - and around our perimeter. They’re being subtle enough to avoid civilian attention, but they waved directly at our cameras. Normally we’d assume they were after the assassin we brought here, but Ra’s is normally more direct than this. He would’ve called, tried to negotiate, or just sent in men to retrieve him. That he hasn’t is unusual-”

“Which is why we suspect he’s still after you,” Spoiler added as she rejoined them, having gone to secure the prisoner.

“Spoiler!” Nightwing scolded.

“Whaaaat? It’s already obvious. No point in hiding it when the guy’s already been kidnapped once.”

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

Danny hmmed.

“It comes to me that if your group is so well known, saying I’m ‘flying away with a pair of Robins’ is maybe, possibly, potentially not the incredibly vague and unhelpful clue I thought it was.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly as all eyes whipped around to stare at him. 

“Ahaha… my bad?”

“Danny.” Batman asked after a pause. “Who, exactly, did you give this ‘clue’ to?”

“Uh…Ra’s?”

“Wh- How!? We’ve been with you the whole time since we met!” Red Robin asked.

“I just sent a duplicate,” He shrugged, splitting off a duplicate and popping it after a three-count.

“Sorry about that.”

“The fuck kid? Why the hell would you give hints about your location to a guy who wants to murder you,” Red Hood fumed, standing to slam his hands on the table.

“That will cost you two meetings with aliens,” he winked, putting a finger to his lips.

“That’s quite a high price considering you only asked for one meeting to learn the supposed summoning circle for the Lord of the Dead.”

Danny spun around at the unfamiliar voice, only to be met with Superman. He gaped.

“Sorry for the delay, I’m Superman, Kryptonian alien extraordinaire,” he topped off the introduction with a dramatic bow before landing gently on the ground. 

“I hear you have a lot of questions for me,” he smiles, holding up a hand when Danny opens his mouth to reply. “But first, I believe you promised my friends a summoning circle?”

Danny pouts.

“Yeah, I did,” he sighs, turning to Batman. “Got a pen and paper?”

___________________________________________________________

Tag: @bathildaburp @cannibalisticphantom @thegatorsgoose @skulld3mort-1fan @starmee-lodurrson @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @sometimesthingsfallapart @osnii @coruscateselene @jaytriesstuff @seraphinedemort @ver-444 @impulsiveasshole @meira-3919 @apointlessbox @gunebugfic @starsblader4rise @screamingtofillthevoid @may-rbi @tired-yet-awaken @readerzj @lazy-bouqet @the-church-grimm @astirdreaming @bun-fish @punderfulfandoms @ispyblu @phoenixdemonqueen @cutelittlebeanie @we-ezer @treepainting @jerithe @all-eyes-no-dragon @addie-lover-of-stories @overtherose @akavincent @nappinginhell @naluforever3 @icepopstar5105us @itsloveleo @spooky-fm @undead-essence @nutcase8691 @promptingwips @zelabee @vythika96 @escelia @heartsong18 @gin2212 @ballzfrog @farmercale @ introvert-even-on-the-internet @jaggedheart11 @coruscateselene @snekullent

[muffinsin]

I got this angst idea

can you do on how would the dimi sisters react to accidentally killing their fem s/o when they were on a uncontrollable rampage and they couldn’t recognise anything, all they had on their minds was to kill (can be from sucking blood or using their sickle) but then they smell the blood of their partner and that’s when they snap out of it and realise they harmed their partner. The sisters cry, apologise, and beg for their partner to not die

So much angst recently- are y’all okay?👀😳 but I’ll gladly get into it!👀🙌

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

It’s so rare she is in a frenzy. She didn’t think it would ever happen again

Perhaps, if she considered it a possibility, she would have not assured you you’re safe with her

She can’t even remember what happened;

In one moment she tried the new, enhanced version of Sanguis Virginis, in the next she is racing through the castle near foaming at the mouth

She sees red, and nothing else

All her senses are hyper, so much so they seem dull, almost. She can no longer recognize what is going on, all she can think about is blood

She tastes it on her tongue as body after body drops on the floor

She is unstoppable, powerful and fast like she has never been before

Bela is a predator, now more than ever

And sadly, this makes you prey

She does not notice it is you who screams for help as she chases yet another maid through the halls of Castle Dimitrescu

As fast as you attempt to run, however, it is no use

You slam a door shut behind you, and still she easily reappears at the other side

You feel her sickle in you before you can take off again, and she crackles sadistically and hungrily

She practically feels the blood in the air, the scent, yet she can’t place it, not yet

She’s on you within a second, sickle brought down on your chest harshly. You eye the window to your right, considering it the only way to save your life

And still, as you reach for it, and Bela even is too lost to take notice, you find you can’t do it

How can you put her life at risk to save yours?- she often asks herself the opposite later on- how can you not?!

Bela does not notice her antics, not until she digs her teeth into her prey’s skin and blood pours from your neck and overwhelms her

She knows this scent…!

Golden eyes widen when the picture in front of her is finally no longer blurred

You are beneath her, bleeding, unconscious, still

She doesn’t need to check for a heartbeat, she knows no human could survive the gashes and slashes across your skin, the bite that outright would have killed you if you weren’t gone long already

She still checks, hopeful, and a single tear rolls down her face as she stares at you in bewilderment

Then, she grips your shoulders tightly, shaking frantically as she calls out your name

“PLEASE! Wake up! Wake up!”

She screams, loud and pained, and begs you to wake up

For minutes she repeats this, begging and crying until she finds your outstretched hand to the window

She considers it, and in her pain, reaches for its handle

But pain solves no pain, and so she feels herself tugged backwards by strong, gloved sets hands, her sisters by her side as they heard her scream, and desperately pulling to avoid the deathly sting of the cold wind outside

Bela relents, her eyes slipping shut in her exhaustion

In the days, weeks, months to come she cannot come to terms with it. She blames herself, and visits your grave daily to beg for forgiveness

Only when she begs once whether you will forgive her, and flowers bloom, does she start healing

Cassandra

She prides herself on her ability to control herself

Sure, she gets angry, but never would she hurt those she loves

If she had just known what would happen, she would have never taken you on a hunt with her

But it wasn’t something new! She trained you, and you often accompanied her

And all was going normally, until the snowstorm had started

Of course, your primary concern was Cassandra, and you were hers

However, this changed

For when the air became bitingly cold and Cassandra felt flies dropping dead within seconds, her hands and face freezing- her heart slowing…it was pure survival

She needed heat

She needed blood

In one moment she calls for you to ensure your safety, in another she calls out for you to run

She is a hunter, chasing her prey

The cold spurs her on, and it isn’t long until she finds you. You reek of her, after all

With the techniques she has taught you, you at first believe you stand a chance

When she lunges for you, you evade

But truly- there doesn’t seem to be a politics outcome to this if she cannot calm down

Either she does catch up to you, or freezes in the cold, your love lost forever to her greatest weakness

As she screams in agony at the cold biting into her flesh, you hesitate when you should’ve ran

She is on you within seconds and doesn’t hesitate. Sharp claw-like nails dig into your flesh, ripping open your chest as though it was made of rubber

You scream, and she cannot hear it

You suppose, you can be thankful that your death is fast

And still, it pains you to see her fuming and shaking in your last moments

It was never supposed to go this way

With your heart removed, you are unable to stay alive and away as you want to

Cassandra shivers and screams from the cold, yelling and cursing angrily at the pain

Eventually, the storm lets up, and so does her primal instincts to keep warm

However, when she looks down and notices the blood all over her and your gutted body in front of her, she feels sick

Never before has she felt this, but the acid feeling in her throat is only a small warning for her

She swarms away fast as she vomits, staring at your body laying on the snowy ground

She runs to you again, even as the snow has her feel as though her ankles will break any moment

“Please, nononono, no please!”, she begs. She knows she cannot repair what has happened, and no amount of healing can bring you back

Still, she cries and begs you to wake up

She does not move from the spot until she is eventually found by her mother after days, half frozen in place. She doesn’t mind. She is willing to die by your side as you had died by hers

When she is lifted from your dead corpse, she doesn’t object

She doesn’t have any strength left within her, hungry and thirsty, exhausted to the bone and spent after days of nothing but sobbing and throwing up

As months pass, she begins to come to terms with what happened

One thing however, is clear to her more than ever before:

The villagers were right. The maidens were

Cassandra Dimitrescu is a monster, and you lied whenever you told her differently

Daniela

Daniela writhes on the ground, screaming, crying, growling

The bear trap around her leg pains her so much, the snow under her even more so

Where is her family?! It must have been two days of her laying helpless in the snow, through the cold night in which she didn’t dare believe she would make it out of alive, through storm and rain

She’s so hungry, thirsty, cold

Never before has she felt this way, unless maybe right at the beginning of her newborn life

When she hears someone approach, she feels both hope and fear

“Dani!”

Your voice fills her with happiness, relief, then fear. You can’t be here!

She feels herself lose control the closer you get, her starved and pained state to blame

“Nonono! Go! Go!”, she screams when you step close to her

Her warning allows you to take a step back as her hand flings in your direction, attempting to grab your ankle

But- it pains you to see the one you love this way; dried tears on her face, makeup ruined and foot trapped by a bear trap, its metal ends digging into her flesh

She’s in so much pain, you can tell

Daniela watches as you circle her, moving to her leg

“Nonono! NO!”, she screams, helpless, as you kneel down

She doesn’t get the chance to tell you not to open the trap, for the moment you pry it open, she lunges for you beyond her control

She sobs as her body seems to work on its own without her command, her teeth digging into your skin

“msor’y” she sobs against your skin

She feels blood running from your wound, more and more. Too much for her to drink

She feels it soothe her aching throat

Even her leg heals fast with the treatment your blood offers the mutant

Still, she cannot tear herself away, hunger’s grip tight on her, thirst taking over

Daniela feels you attempt to push her off, but in your weakened state you cannot even make her budge

Her skin feels warm the more she feeds, and your skin becomes paler the more the forcefully takes

She cries helplessly, and the tears mix with yours. Her chest heaves as you gasp for breath, and use the one you have remaining in your lungs to beg her to stop

When she finally pulls away, golden eyes meet your tried ones

She calls out your name, hands immediately pressing over your wounds- she didn’t even notice how she must’ve dug her teeth in multiple times

She sobs harder upon noticing you attempt to lift your hand to her cheek

She helps you and presses her face against it, whimpering and begging for forgiveness

“You are not to blame”, is all you manage to force out before you close your mouth again

Daniela can’t move, can barely breathe

The blood coating her is all wrong! It feels sickening on her lips and in her mouth

She stays with you until your eyes close too and your heartbeat falters. She cries, and refuses to leave you

As she carries you back to the castle, your words stick with her

“You are not to blame”- it’s difficult for her to believe. And still, it helps her. This last memory of you

This last piece of love in all the pain

[painful-pooch]

Earn My Screams

I have been far too excited to wait and so here is Chapter 3 of the Hostage Arc. I hope you guys like it! If you have any recommendations or ideas you want to see, my asks are open and I can maybe give a snippet to see if you like it hehe. Thank you all for your support and love!

Hostage Arc Chapters

Part 1 (Captain Down)

Part 2 (An Impromptu Farewell)

CWs: military whump, war, gunshot wounds, blood, injury, use of crowbar, violence, interrogation whump , stress position, broken bones

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Bruno finds himself hanging from the ceiling, the breath knocked out of him as cold water is thrown on him, causing him to thrash and sputter regardless of the pain. Even doing so, the chains rattle along with him, and his gasps echo in the interrogation room.

"You're up. Good. Maybe you'll actually answer something for once."

He notices he’s bandaged up where he was shot, though they didn’t give him anything for the pain. Like hell they would have anyways. He took so many of their soldiers for putting him in this predicament, he is surprised he isn’t more injured besides the killer headache making his head spin. 

"Why did you come here and what were your mission details?" The man asks, green eyes locked with his own.

The porous ground has more character than his captor, and he has no intention in building any rapport. "Bruno Stenberg, USAF, ID number 052148656. As far as your next question is concerned, I am not interested in answering it."

Just as he thinks it can't get worse, a fist comes across on his face, the man snarling in retaliation. "Try again. Go on." Something from his voice tells him that he should probably listen and give him what he wants. 

Nah. It ain't that easy.

"I'm sorry. You're deaf. Bruno Stenberg, United States Air Force, ID number 052148656." There's a bloody smirk on his own face and he tilts his chin up in defiance. "I tried again, like you said."

There's rage behind the man's eyes and he grabs a fistful of Bruno's hair, getting right in his face. "You think this is some kind of joke, but I'm through playing nice." He drives a fist into his side where the gunshot wound is.

The amount of agony and pain that shattered his world forces a struggled, pained gasp, his knees buckling and forcing Bruno to solely hang from his shackled wrists. He bites his cheek from the inside to keep himself from screaming, and he feels the sweat building up at his brow from the exertion. 

The man looks pleased and keeps a hand in Bruno's hair, patting his cheek. "You can scream, dog. Go ahead." There was this smarmy ass look that Bruno hated, so he did the one thing he knew to do when in a predicament like this. 

He headbutted the man just right, his forehead connecting with the man's nose. An audible crunch is heard in the interrogation room followed by a scream. It is a small victory for Bruno, watching the man pull back to hold his broken, bloody nose. "You got to earn my screams, fucker."

The man looks to the right of him and nods, forcing Bruno to fall on his hands and knees. But before he can have a chance to realize what's going to happen, a swift kick is dealt right to his stomach, dropping him to his side. The captain grits his teeth and groans loudly, but he refuses to scream. They are going to work for it.

"I'll take over," a female calls out, and Bruno recognizes her as the woman who knocked him unconscious when he was first taken. 

The man with the bloody nose curses in another language and huffs, "I'm going to get him back for this, Katerina."

"Manolo, go clean your face. Blood doesn't suit you like this one. And don't worry-" she forces her boot over Bruno's head-"I'll handle him." His head is then slammed into the floor, and he can taste blood and feel his nose already bleeding from the impact. Wonderful. 

"You think you're clever, but we have all the time in the world. You should be terrified," she snarls down at him.

Bruno forces a laugh and swallows back some blood. Better keep some in his body than lose it, he thinks to himself. I'm terrified to see how ugly I look now. If I cracked mirrors before, then I would probably turn people to stone at this point.

He looks up at the woman, trying to get a good read on her. “I’m not clever. I’m just an idiot that manages to get the kill each time. I’m not going to be scared of you because that’s not something I am capable of. So go ahead. Make me bleed. Make me scream. Make. Me. Suffer.” He forces himself to stand up, staring her down while he can hear the guards behind him aim at him. The pain is radiating throughout his body, but he doesn't care. They will see what kind of a military man Bruno is.

She is clapping her hands and laughs in his face. “Oh, I am going to remember those words. You want to suffer, bleed, and scream? Fine. We can do just that." 

It doesn't take even a few moments to get one of the guards to pass her a crowbar, the woman's smile a gleaming reminder that she's a sadistic captor. Before Bruno can even brace himself, she swings and catches him at his side where the wound is. He falls to his knees from the shock of the hit, biting down on his hand to keep him from screaming. He can taste his own blood and his eyes lock with the woman's silver eyes just as she goes for another swing.

This one connects to his ribs and he bites down harder when there's a snap, tears springing to his eyes and already falling when he can't breathe in. There's so much pain and he doesn't realize he's on the floor because she struck him in the back. His cheek is against the concrete, eyes now focused on the tiniest ant a few inches away.

It's like he's suffocating now, waiting for his body to let him take air in, and when he does, he whimpers so softly into his bitten hand, not letting go. They want his screams? They are gonna earn them. 

"Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim..." ("Endure and be strong; this pain will be useful to you someday…") He replays his mantra in his head over and over just as the crowbar comes down on him again and again. 

He refuses to give in so quickly, and they haven't gotten him to scream, even when the woman is tired and everyone leaves him on the floor, bruised, bloodied, and weak. He didn't scream once, but the Captain never promised her he wouldn't cry. And so he did while he thought of his teammates back home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bru Bru tag list: @cpt-winters, @redd956, @straight-to-the-pain, @technom0ose, @actress4him, @whumperofworlds, @i-eat-worlds, @inscrutable-shadow, @gala1981, @thethistlegirl, @ocean-blue-whump, @noirineverysense, @steelandblood, @crash-bump-bring-the-whump, @kervl-klear, @cravesunconditionallove

[kakashiislut]

I woke up super late (3:40 pm) and so I promise to write all day and try to make it as long as possible with little skips. I think I skipped a lot cause it’s just the beginning!! Love you ❤️

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Part 1 Here!

Warnings: Mentions of Simons past, blood, cuts, Y/N a bit horny, plzs tell me what else cause I forgot.

Authors Note: heyo! This will be a series, who knows!! Basically, Y/N is a underground nurse/doctor and she finds lil old Simon passed out in front of her house and she takes him in to care for him until he's all happy and healthy.

Word Count: 2,100.

Part 2/?

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The Solider~ Ghost × FemNurse!Reader.

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Feeling proud of yourself was an understatement. You’ve cleaned up your entire house, moped, swept, vacuumed, you wiped down all the counters and tables, you washed the dishes, folded your laundry, did your bed, lit candles and now you’re finally relaxing. Relaxing….you feel so-

“THE SOLDIER-“ tossing yourself up, you fixed your hair up and unlocked the first door, running quickly down the steps, you unlocked the second door using a key that hung around your neck. When you pushed open the door, you almost screamed.

There he was, on his knees on the floor, he was tugging angrily at the handcuffs that kept him attached to the bed, he snarled loudly, almost sounding animalistic. When his eyes attached to yours, he bared his teeth. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” His voice was rough and sounded like someone scratched his throat up with knives. There was blood coming out of one arm. “Did you rip out your IV?!” You freaked, taking a step towards him, but in his hand where his broken wrist resides, he swiped at you with a syringe.

His eyes were still blown out, he was breathing hard and heavy, almost like he was struggling to get air into his lungs. He seemed scared, and he’s probably more confused why he’s half naked. “M-my name is Nurse Y/N Y/L/N,” you took a step back this time, “I found you unconscious outside the front of my house and I took you in to care for you,” you gulped harshly, thank god for the handcuff, you thought to yourself. The man surely would have snapped you in half without it.

You tried to sound confident, so you put your hands on your hips like a superhero and pointed your chin to the sky. “I want you to get back into bed…” Your voice was stern with a bit of hesitation in it, the man stared you down. “Unlock these bloody cuffs first…” He sneered, still slightly tugging on them. “No way, until the drugs wear off and then maybe I’ll even think about it” you protested, squinting your eyes at him. “Drop the syringe.” The man let go of the syringe “slide it to me…” you took a step towards him and snatched up the syringe when it came sliding your way. “Alright! Now let’s get you back into bed, okay? You’re probably hungry and thirsty” you smiled brightly at the man and helped him back into bed. “And let’s take care of that blood, and I’ll get you some clothes.”

You left once again upstairs and retrieved his clothes, all of them. You placed them on an empty desk next to the man and you got a cotton puff and some paper tape. “Can I have your arm, sir?” The man slowly let you see his bleeding arm. “Tsk tsk, that’s very dangerous ya know. You’ve gotten blood all over you and the floor.” You shook your head at him, motherly-like and patched up his IV wound. “I’m…I’m sorry.” He spoke, and you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a smile. “It’s okay…it’s Normal to be scared…”

“Wasn’t scared…” he mumbled

“Sure you weren’t” you shook your head gently and got up to get his clothes. You helped him slip on a pair of pants and you grabbed his shirt bunching it up. “Can’t put on me shirt if you got my wrist bloody cuffed to the bed” He jangled his hand quickly and harshly. “Shit.” You mumbled, fighting your inner self on whether or not to uncuff him. “Promise you won’t hurt me?” You purse your lips and offer him your pinky “ya ya ya, come on” he hooked his pinky to yours quickly and you leaned over to uncuff him. Slipping his shirt over his head, you helped him put his arms through the sleeves and once he was in the shirt, you reached over to cuff him again, but he grabbed your arm “I’ll behave.”

You felt a surge of energy run down your spine and straight to your pussy.

Shit. His voice is so hot

“Where are you from…” you pulled away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and cleaning up the mess he made when he was flopping on the floor like a fish out of water. “Manchester…” he groaned, you quirked an eyebrow up “a manc? You don’t sound like one” you chuckled softly and watched his bare face contort into random faces. “Years and years of yelling.” He turned his head to the side to hide his face.

“I’ll get you food…” you got up quick, turning around and trying to forget about the heat making its way up your neck, to your cheeks and settling on your ears. You left upstairs and locked the first door and began heating up the soup. Once hot, you bowled a lot of it and brought it down on a bed table. “Tomato” you simply stated and placed it over his hips. You lifted the spoon and offered to feed him. “Can feed m’self” he mumbled, snatching the spoon and dipping it into the soup. You watched. Watched the way he shook while lifting the light spoon, he was focused on not spilling the soup, only to spill it on the table. He grumbled, tried again and eventually tossed the spoon down in frustration.

“That’s why I’m here” you smiled sweetly and he wanted to throw up, because he found it…cute. Cute. Ya. You helped him eat, until all the soup was gone and he looked a tad better. “Good?” You questioned, “Good. You made this?” He answered, and you felt a sense of pride surge through you. “Yes!” You gave him a big smile, “then it’s shite” you wanted to die for a moment, but you saw the way his lips curled into a small smile. “Is your name roba? I heard you-“ you stopped talking once you saw how the man’s face became terrifying, like you’ve just said something he never wanted to hear. “Don’t say that name.” He spat, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I-I’m sorry, you were mumbling it when I first saw you, and I just thought that was your name-“ the man rolled his eyes and turned to hide his face again. “It’s Simon.” He simply stated. You smiled brightly, trying to forget the way his face switched up so quickly. “Well, Hello Simon.” You moved the tray away and placed it on the desk where his clothes were and started cleaning up more. You hid all sorts of objects that could be weapons. “Tell me about yourself, Simon, how did you end up here?” The man let out a groan, rubbing his eyes, before letting his arms fall to the bed. He took extra care of his broken wrist.

“I’m in the military.” You chuckled softly “oh I can tell. Lemme guess…it’s confidential?” You shook your head and went back to picking up loose Q-Tips on the floor. Now I have to throw them away. “A mission gone bad. Horrible. I was wondering for weeks. Barely knew where I was or who I was” Simon sounded like hell. It’s obvious he didn’t wanna talk about it. “Well…you’re safe now.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him. “I’ll take care of you until you’re back to normal. Speaking of taking care of you,” you got up and tossed the Q-Tips away and sat back down on your swivel chair. “You have a mild concussion. Your wrist is broken, you are VERY Malnourished, you have an infection, I stitched up like three? Different parts of you back together and if you don’t bring your weight back up, you won’t ever heal.”

The man stared at you, the same expression that he had even when he was passed out. It was empty. The stare he held was empty. The way his face was naturally set in place was…empty. The man was just an empty shell. Even the way he talked, he sounded like he was empty.

He nodded his head, “it’s too bright in here and I wanna nap. Leave.” He turned to hide his face once again and you sighed a bit. “Okay.” You closed the curtains and took the bed table on your way out. This time, you didn’t lock any doors.

—

Simon. Simon. Simon.

You searched for people named Simon in the British military and got 100s of people. None of them YOUR Simon. “Damn, should have asked for his last name at least, stupid Y/N.” Hearing your phone ding, you picked it up and pressed on the message. “Omg..I forgot”

The message was from your “friend.” He sent you countless articles and pictures of the man in your basement. “Simon Riley. Statues…Deceased?” You quirked an eyebrow. “But it’s the same man”

You were confused now, the man who was currently ALIVE in your basement, was dead on paper. You looked more into him. “Lieutenant Simon Riley? Must be good at his job.” You confirmed your suspicions when you saw his kill count, success rate and more. The man was a killing machine. Going back to your messages, you began typing:

{You: The man in my basement had a skull-like mask over his face. Does that mean anything?

Him: What you mean?

You rolled your eyes a bit

You: Like this *you send a picture of the mask*

You: ?? If this man is dead on paper, then is he hiding who he is with a mask?

Him: Can’t be possible, the military would need ID and…ya know…they would need to see his face. Don’t be dumb.

You: rude. Maybe they already knew? And just let him play dress up.

Him: I’ll look into the mask. Don’t text me.

You: didn’t plan on it.}

Setting your phone down, you huffed out loudly and rubbed away the sleepiness in your eyes. Even if you tried, you wouldn’t fall asleep. Your body simply wouldn’t allow you to. But nevertheless, you prepared yourself for sleep and once you hit the bed, you pretended to sleep for hours.

The man in your basement didn’t sleep either. He laid awake in the dark, thinking about how he would get out of this place. How he would head back to base and yell at his teammates for not listening to him. He was right. But here he was….in some pretty ladies basement. His head was banging and he was trying to ignore it. Those drugs Y/N gave him wore off long ago and all he wanted to do was puke. Puke his guts out. Like many times in his life, Simon wanted to disappear. He didn’t know where he was, the country was foreign to him and the 141 probably gave up looking for him. He knew he was a goner once his radio was ripped out. He barely survived those weeks of him aimlessly tripping over his own feet trying to find some sort of water or anything edible to fill his belly. Though weak, he planted his feet onto the floor and pushed himself out and off of the bed.

Simon wobbled his way to the bathroom, using the wall for support. He let out a small whine when his body protested to him getting up. His head started to bang harder, but he pushed opened the door and sat down on the toilet. He couldn’t pee standing up. No no, he’d probably pass out. Once Simon was all finished, he washed his hand and splashed his face, his wrist was aching and he just wanted to chomp down on painkillers to make it go away. He hasn’t been in this much pain since his kidnapping in ‘08 (ish).

He stared at himself in the mirror and bit the inside of his cheek. “You’re an ugly bastard…” He muttered, letting his fingers glide over the bruises and cuts on his face. He wasn’t clean at all. He felt icky and gross, he also felt like he was starting to become sick. He sniffled a bit and opened his mouth to check his teeth. They were all fine, so he made his way back to the bed. This time it was worse. He felt dizzy. His head banged even more and his bones felt like they were gonna snap mid walk. He barely made it to the bed, before his body gave out and he passed out from the pain.

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I did NOT proofread this at all. The italics are y/n thinking! Hope you enjoy. Sorry it sucks.

Tag List (it’s tiny and I’m proud): @illyanam1011 <3