#i want an emergency room thread i really do

[corroded-hellfire]

More Munson Than Expected - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Written with my beloved @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: The ultrasound for your second pregnancy brings a new wave of excitement to the Munson household.

Note: The excitement I have to let this secret out of the bag after cooking it up for over a year is real. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: pregnant!reader

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Eddie, you didn’t have to come with me,” you remind him again as he pulls up a chair next to the examination table he just helped you get situated on.

Your husband gives you a disapproving look as he makes himself comfortable in the seat. He shakes his head as he reaches out and takes one of your hands in his.

“Did you really think I was going to miss this?” he asks. “No way. I was there for Eliza’s first ultrasound, I’m going to be there for this one’s too.”

“What about the boys?”

Eddie sighs. “I was there for Ryan’s. But I wasn’t aware of when Luke’s was, so I missed it. Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “He would know it wasn’t your fault, though.”

“You keep your mouth shut too, hmm?” Eddie leans over and presses a kiss to your emerging bump. 

“I don’t know if he or she developed a mouth yet,” you say, the sanitary paper crinkling beneath you as you try to get comfortable. 

“Not gonna find out if you’re a he or she,” Eddie continues talking to his developing child. He reaches out and rubs a hand over your stomach. “Wanna see you, though. And make sure you’re healthy.”

The door to the examination room swings open, bringing with it the distinct smell of antiseptic. The ultrasound technician walks in and closes the door behind her.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Munson,” she greets with a smile. “My name is Tara and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. The doctor tells me that you don’t want to know the sex. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod. “We want this one to be a surprise.”

“That is no problem. Let me just set up here and we’ll get started.”

While she gets to work, Eddie helps you as you attempt to tug your shirt up enough to avoid the cold and sticky goo that will inevitably be squirted on your stomach for the ultrasound. You’re able to tuck it into the underwire of your bra just to be sure that it won’t slide back down and get all messy. 

One of the sleeves of Eddie’s jumpsuit falls down and he shoves it back up past his elbow. You take in the navy material, your eye tracing over his name sewn on in red thread over his heart. 

“What time are they expecting you back at work?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “They know where I’m at. They know it might be a little while.” 

“Alright, are we ready?” Tara asks.

“Yep.” You offer your hand to Eddie again and he laces his ringed fingers with yours. 

Tara picks up the bottle of the dreaded goo and squirts a healthy amount on your abdomen. The chill against your skin sends a shiver throughout your body. At least the wand should warm it up as the tech spreads the substance around to get the best view of the baby. 

To you and your husband it feels like you’re just looking at a black screen with wavy white lines on it. Somehow, everything seems to make sense to Tara as she positions the wand on different parts of your stomach. 

“Oh,” she says at one point, stilling the instrument against your skin. “Here we go.”

A soft but steady thump thump thump fills the air of examination room 5. Tears immediately well up in your eyes. You look at Eddie to see him grinning from ear to ear. 

With the slightest movement of the wand sliding against the goo, you hear thump thump thump thump thump thump.

“Oh wow,” you say through a sniffle. “You can hear it even better now.”

“Sounds strong,” Eddie adds. 

“Actually…” Tara trails off.

“What?” Eddie asks. You feel his hand tighten in your grip. “It’s…not strong?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s very strong. It sounds perfect to me. But I want you to listen.” There are a few moments of silence as the three of you listen to the heartbeat. 

“It sounds fast,” you say.

“It does,” Tara agrees. “But if you listen, you can hear some of the beats overlapping one another.”

She leans in towards the screen and moves the wand again, just slightly. A smile grows on her face as she spots something in the mess of gray shapes on the machine. “Hear it?” she asks.

“Yeah, kind of,” Eddie says. “What does that mean?”

“Well, if you look here,” she replies, pointing towards what looks like a small blob, “that’s your baby.”

Pure glee radiates throughout your entire being. It’s your first glimpse at your and Eddie’s new baby. Another life that the two of you created together. You share a quick loving look with your husband before you both become engrossed in the image on the screen again.

“And here…” Tara says, sliding her finger slightly to the right, “is your other baby.”

The room goes silent save for the sound of the heartbeat. Or rather, heartbeats. Though your ears heard the words, your brain is still processing what they mean. It’s clearly the same with Eddie, as he stares at Tara just like you are.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie finally says. He chuckles and licks over his lips. “Did you say, ‘other baby’?”

“I did, indeed.” Tara taps a few keys on the machine, and it looks like it takes a screenshot. “There are two babies here. Two distinct heartbeats and two little nuggets showing off to the camera.”

“Twins.” The word comes out of you as a whispered breath. “We’re having twins.”

“Not just Baby Munson #4,” Eddie adds in a voice as awed as yours. “Baby Munson #5, too.”

“And they both appear to be developing well,” Tara says. 

Eddie laughs. “No. No, we, uh, we’re not having twins.” He looks down at you, then back at Tara. “We decided we’re just having one more. I’m already forty-one, so just the one newborn is already pushing it.”

Tara grins, clearly used to this kind of reaction. “Well, you’d better rest up. Because you’ll be a father to two new little ones in a few months.”

Eddie grabs your hand, still stunned by the news. You can’t say you’re faring much better, although it does explain why this pregnancy has been so much more intense than when you were expecting Eliza. Part of you feels relieved that it wasn’t all in your head. But another part…

“Twins.” The word leaves your lips in an exhale. “We’re…babe, we’re gonna have five kids. We’re gonna be a family of seven.”

A clammy hand squeezes yours, and you glance up to see Eddie visibly trembling. “How am I gonna raise five kids?” He murmurs. “That’s one more than Harrington, and that dude was pretty much born to be a dad.”

Tara’s brows furrow as she cleans off your belly. “I’ll, um, leave you two to discuss.” She starts for the door, then turns around. “Take all the time you need.”

As soon as the door clicks shut, Eddie starts pacing around the tiny exam room. “Okay, okay. We’re having two babies. At the same time.”

“Yes, that’s generally what happens with twins.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “I could do without your sarcasm right now, Sweetheart. I just found out that I’m about to out-kid Steve Harrington.”

“Out-kid?” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Eddie doesn’t pick up on your joking tone. “Yes! He has four, and I’ll have five. Five!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I was barely keeping two alive before you came along, and now I’m gonna be responsible for five?!”

“First of all,” you say, pushing yourself up, “you were an amazing dad before we got together. Even before I started watching the boys, when you were basically doing it on your own. Give yourself some credit. Second, Ryan will be going to college soon enough, so we’ll only have four kids in the house.”

Your attempt at consoling your husband falls flat. “Oh my god, I’m gonna have infants while my oldest is gonna be in college! I’m supposed to be slowing down, not re-babyproofing the house!” He buries his head in his hands. “What were we thinking? And why do you always have to look so hot? I wouldn’t be tempted to jump your bones all the time if you weren’t so goddamn sexy.”

You sigh. “I mean, you’re the one who’s always telling me you want to ‘pump me full of your babies.’ Guess now you really did it.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie runs his hands down his face and takes a deep breath. He stands in the same spot, staring at you for a few silent moments before a smile begins to crack through his fog. “Holy shit.”

“Calming down now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Or realizing I’m the one who has to push two of them out of my body?”

Eddie ambles over to you on the examining table and rests his forehead against yours. His shoulders have gone down to their usual height again, no longer bunched up around his ears with tension. 

“Okay, I had my mini freak out,” he says softly, reaching up to tug the hem of your shirt down back over your bump. “You may have yours.”

With a low chuckle, you reach up and cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“I still don’t think it’s hit me yet,” you admit. “Or maybe trying to logic-out your fear helped me with my own, too. I mean, you said something about being too old to re-babyproof the house? Sweetheart, we would have had to do that with one baby anyway.”

“Common sense left me there for a little bit, I’ll admit.”

“And I’ve got one more bone to pick with you,” you say, leaving one hand on his face and using the other to poke him in the chest. 

“What’s that?”

“You said Steve was pretty much born to be a dad. Eddie, out of all the people I’ve ever met in my life, you are definitely the one who was always meant to be a dad.” You lower your hand to your bump. “Because it doesn’t matter if there were one, two, three, or even eight babies in here. You’d still love them all unconditionally and try your hardest to give the world to them.”

“I love our babies,” Eddie replies softly. His hand moves to rest on top of yours on your bump. “I love our twins.”

“Hey, we’ve got some extra resources this time around, too,” you point out. “Ryan drives now. We can recruit him for diaper or formula runs. And he can take Luke and Eliza places if we’re not able to. Luke is old enough now not to be intimidated by being around newborns. He’ll definitely be more hands-on than he was with Eliza. And speaking of the little firecracker…we already know she’s going to be like a mother hen to them. See? Recruiting the kids to help with the kids. And that doesn’t even mention Wayne and all of our friends. At least ninety percent of them owe us from watching their kids at one point or another.” 

“My wife is so smart,” Eddie praises with a small smile. 

“She is,” you reply coyly. “Do you think you could help me off this table, though? Makes sense why it’s been harder for me to get up from things lately—two against one here.”

Eddie gently takes your arms and leads you to a comfortable seated position before helping you hop down from the high table. 

The two of you walk hand-in-hand out of the doctor’s office and across the parking lot to your car. The sun seems warmer and brighter than when you went in. There’s not a cloud in the sky—were there any before? Birds call to one another from the trees that encircle the medical plaza, and their tune brings a smile to your face. Everything seems so light and airy around you that it almost makes you feel like you’re dissociating. But there’s Eddie’s hand in yours. The sneakers you wear knock against the concrete with every step, reverberating the vibration up your legs. You’re very much here in this moment. The magic in the air comes from knowing the amount of love you carried for the bundle of joy in your belly has just doubled. The thought of kissing two little button noses goodnight every day instead of one has you giddy. 

“Baby,” you say as Eddie opens the passenger car door for you. “We’re gonna have double the cuddles.”

“Double the drooly kisses.” The smile on your husband’s face tells you that he’s excited about the prospect. “Double new baby smell.”

You secure your seatbelt and rest both of your hands on your belly as Eddie walks around the car and slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Double the love we give and receive,” you muse softly, looking down at your protruding bump. “I wonder if I’ll get double the pain meds when I’m in labor.”

Eddie laughs as he pulls the car out of the parking space. 

“Time will tell,” he says. “Are you hungry, princess?”

“Yeah. I mean, makes sense, since I’m eating for three,” you reply. “But don’t you have to get back to work?”

“There is no way I’ll be able to focus on anything,” Eddie says with a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. “I’m taking the rest of the day.”

“Okay. Do you want to get lunch at—oh boy.”

Eddie’s eyes glance over at you before looking back on the road.

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not wrong,” you say. “Just…I-I don’t know how we’ll keep this from the kids. We didn’t think we’d have anything to report to them other than the baby being healthy since we’re not finding out the sex. But there’s absolutely no way I won’t slip up and say ‘babies’ or ‘them’ or something that will give it away. I’d rather they hear the news from us directly than catching us in a slip.”

Eddie nods in agreement. “How do you think we should tell them?”

“Umm…” You purse your lips as you start to ponder different scenarios. Both you and Eddie think in silence for a few minutes before he speaks.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea…”

Eliza is thrilled to have both of her parents picking her up from school. The way she goes on and on about an arts and crafts project they did in class today reminds you of when you were just the babysitter and picked Ryan and Luke up from school. Luke always had something interesting to babble on about—much to your amusement. 

Your second oldest is already at home when you walk in the front door holding Eliza’s hand and Eddie trails in behind with a few bags from the store. Usually, Ryan drives both himself and Luke home from school every day, but now Ryan takes SAT Prep classes once a week after school, forcing Luke to take the bus home. Which you’d think was one of the trials of Hercules with how often Luke shares his disdain for the form of transportation. 

“Whatcha got, Pops?” Luke asks from the couch. His hand is buried in a bag of white cheddar popcorn and an episode of Supernatural is on the television. 

“You’ll see,” Eddie tells him, taking the bags straight to your room. Best to keep them out of the way of the two nosiest Munson children. Although, you wonder to yourself if that will change with the new additions. 

Eliza spies the snack her brother has and quickly sheds her Little Mermaid backpack and pink Mary Jane shoes to climb up on the couch next to him. She sticks an arm in the popcorn bag and brings out as big a handful as her little fist would allow her. 

“There’s food in the bags,” Eliza says to Luke through the kernels stuffing her cheeks.

“Huh?” Luke clearly doesn’t speak four-year-old-with-a-full-mouth.

“The bags Daddy has,” Eliza says once she’s swallowed. She wipes her white cheddar covered fingertips on her white tights. “There’s food in them. I smelled it in the car.” 

“Good job, Watson,” he tells her.

“Uh, who?” Eliza gives her older brother a look that clearly relays she thinks he’s crazy. It doesn’t stop her from taking another handful of popcorn, though. 

“Watson. Sherlock Holmes’ assistant. They’re detectives, Lize.”

“Oh,” is all she says before shoving more popcorn into her mouth. 

You putter around, cleaning up the kitchen and tidying the living room to keep yourself from spilling the beans too early. It’s important to wait until Ryan gets home later. You just know time is going to crawl by at a snail’s pace for the next hour and a half.

When your oldest son finally arrives home, you usher everyone around the kitchen table for a family meeting. 

“Am I in trouble?” Luke huffs. “Because if I am, I’d like to plead not guilty.”

Eddie raises his brows. “Not sure why you’d be in trouble, but I’m sure we’ll find out.” He clears his throat, placing a loving hand on your bump. “No, this family meeting is to tell you guys some exciting news we got at the ultrasound today.”

He reaches over and plucks a grease-soaked Burger King bag from the counter. “Ry, you get the first clue.”

Ryan practically tears open the bag, the hungry teenager ready to devour the Double Whopper without even unwrapping it. 

“Is the baby a hamburger?” Ryan asks mid-bite. He pulls out the fries you got along with it. “Or is it small? Is the clue ‘small fry?’”

You shake your head. “Nope. Nice try, though.” 

Luke’s clue is next, though he’s too busy trying to get his brother to share his food to really pay attention. When Ryan finally relents and tosses a fry his way, Luke looks down at the Gameboy game box in front of him. 

“A Looney Tunes double pack?” He wrinkles his nose. “Are you naming the baby Tweety Bird?”

Eliza sticks out her little tongue in disgust. “That’s a horrible name for a baby!”

“Maybe it looks like Elmer Fudd, like Eliza did when she was born,” Ryan chimes in, licking ketchup off of his thumb. 

“Who?” Your daughter glances between the boys, unaware of the joke being made at her expense.

Luke doesn’t hesitate to fill her in. “The weird guy who hunts Bugs Bunny. The one who always goes, ‘ooh, I hate that wabbit!’”

Eliza shoots him a glare that’s equal parts adorable and terrifying. Luckily, she’s easily distracted by her clue. 

“For Eliza,” you say as you tug the crinkling Target bag off of the biggest hint of all. Eddie already made sure to open the box and cut any wires attached so your daughter can get right at the twin Baby Alive dolls. 

The four-year-old gasps. “Babies!” She holds her arms out as you deliver the box to her.

Little fingers grab onto the first doll, and she gently places it on the table in front to her before removing the second doll. The rest of the family watches in amusement as Eliza covers the baby on the table with a blanket, and cradles the other one in her arms, holding its bottle to its mouth. 

“So,” Eddie asks, rubbing his hands together, “what do these gifts have in common?”

The three of them begin to think. At least, you’re pretty sure Eliza is thinking about it. She’s gazing down at the doll in her arms with the most heartwarming compassion. 

“There’s two burger patties, two games, two dolls…” Luke muses.

“Wait,” Ryan says, his head perking up as an idea occurs to him. “Is it a girl? Like, two X chromosomes?”

Your husband simply stares at your oldest son for a moment before responding.

“In what world would I be smart enough to come up with that?” he asks. 

Luke nods his head in your direction. “Ma is, though. But I think it’s a boy because there’s two of us boys already.”

“Then the hint would have to do with three, genius,” Ryan scoffs. 

The younger brother contorts his face and mocks his brother’s words in a high-pitched voice.

“Maybe Mama has two babies in her belly.” Your daughter’s words are spoken with the most casual tone, the majority of her attention on the plastic doll she’s gently rocking to sleep in her arms. 

The boys both laugh, Ryan rolling his eyes at what he considers a silly idea from a little girl. The Munson brothers turn to you and Eddie, expecting you to be joining in on the laughter, but all they find are your excited and hopeful faces. The chuckles trail off as the boys pause and consider what those faces mean. 

“Wait, you don’t mean…” Ryan starts.

“Oh my GOD!” Luke shouts, banging his hands down on the table in front of him. It rattles the doll Eliza isn’t holding, and she gives her big brother a glare over the disturbance. 

“No way!” Ryan stands up, excitement nearly paralyzing him. He doesn’t know what to do except smile as he holds his arms out in front of him awkwardly. “It’s really…twins?!”

“It’s twins!” you confirm. You make an attempt to stand as well, but the two babies inside of you are keeping your center of gravity low enough to make you give up. 

“Two babies!” Luke hoots. “This is insane!”

Eddie chuckles, his heart at once light as air and completely full at seeing the excitement of his boys. 

“Do you have a picture?” Luke asks.

“The sonogram,” Ryan adds.

“Yeah! Can we see it? Let us see the picture!”

“Do you even know what you’ll be looking at?” Ryan asks as he sits back down next to his brother.

Luke shrugs. “They’ll show us.”

“Okay, okay, here it is,” you say, handing over the image that’s been sitting in your back pocket. “That little spot right there is one baby, and that one right there is the other baby.”

Their stunned faces make you giggle softly as you lean back. 

“Oh my God,” Ryan says. “I can’t believe it’s twins.”

“Holy sh—crap, we’re going to have two new siblings.”

“We’re going to need a bigger house,” Ryan says, looking around the room everyone is seated in.

“Wow, there’s going to be a lot of people living here,” Luke says. “Dad, were you going for twins?”

“That’s not how it works, doofus,” Ryan says as Eddie shakes his head in amusement. 

Luke scoffs. “Explain it to me then, Mr. SAT.”

Eliza heaves a deep sigh for someone with such a tiny body and small lungs. She sets the baby doll in her arms down on the table next to its sleeping sibling. 

“You’re so loud!” she complains. 

“Lize, it’s twin babies!” Luke tells her, gently shaking her frame back and forth. 

“I know, I know, you keep saying it over and over!”

“Aren’t you excited?” Ryan asks her. 

Your daughter shrugs her shoulders once before picking her doll back up and cradling it in the crook of her arm.

“Sure.” 

Both boys look to you and Eddie at her lackluster reaction. You give a gentle shake of your head.

“Don’t worry,” you tell them. “It’ll click at some point.” 

“Oh, what a day,” you sigh as you slip under the blankets to lay down next to your husband. Eddie lifts his arm, and you immediately cuddle up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Your bump nudges his side, and you rub one hand over the soft material of your worn t-shirt. “Makes sense why my bump is more pronounced earlier than it was with Eliza.”

Eddie wraps one arm around your shoulders and brings the other one down to place his hand on top of your own. 

“Can't believe there are four of us in this bed,” he says with a light chuckle.

“Daddyyyyy! Mamaaaaaa!”

A four-year-old with wild curls runs into your room and leaps onto the bed, landing at your and Eddie’s feet.

“Make that five of us,” Eddie says. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Little Miss,” you tell Eliza.

She pushes herself onto her hands and knees in her purple piggy pajamas and quickly crawls up the infinitesimal space between you and her father. 

“Careful, careful,” Eddie cautions the closer she gets to your belly.

Eliza halts her ascent and leans back on her heels. Her chocolate brown eyes are as wild as her bedhead is.

“I’m gonna be a big sister to two babies?!” 

Across the hall, a chuckle reverberates in Ryan’s chest as he turns to lay on his side in bed.

“There it is.”

[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In - Part 2

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Summary: After Billy's accident, you go back to the Maximoff house to babysitt the twins.

Time works differently when you’re inside a hospital. That’s true, whether you’re a patient or a doctor.

You measure it in shifts that can extend up to 36 hours. Sometimes you go inside when the sky is dark; by the time you're done it looks exactly the same, and you wonder if the day passed at all.

What’s certain is that you will always run late. Racing around your house, you take your bag, keys and pour coffee on a thermos, carrying a pop tart in your mouth.

You’re so worried with making sure you have everything, you don’t even notice Wanda is at the door until you crash against her.

“I’m so sorry!” you say, the coffee spilling all over your scrubs.

“Oh, my Gosh, is it hot? Are you ok?”

“It’s cold, no worries. Let me get changed, wanna come in?”

You walk back, finding some clean scrubs on a basket near the stairs. Thank God you did your laundry yesterday.

“What’s up, Wands?” you say, changing in the same room. You’re extremely late and can’t afford to go upstairs.

Wanda looks at your smooth skin and toned muscles and blushes, looking away.

“Oh… I… wanted to give you this. Billy drew it the other day. It’s supposed to be you in the hospital”

“That’s so cute” you walk up to her, looking at the drawing over her shoulder. “How’s the arm?”

“It’s good, he’s just itchy”

“Yeah, that happens. Can I keep it?” you ask and she hands you the paper. You put in on the fridge door, a magnet securing the drawing in its place. “I’d love to chat but I gotta run”

Wanda glares when you pick another pop-tart.

“Is that what you call breakfast?”

“I’m late!” you protest with a laugh, taking a bite on your way out.

“Well, come by anytime if you want to have some real food” she offers and you nod, smiling as you get into the car. “Oh, shoot! I forgot to ask. I need a baking tray to put some extra cookies, you wouldn’t happen to have one?”

“It’s your lucky day, my mom gave me one I never use. It’s supposed to be somewhere in the cupboard. There’s a spare key in that ceramic turtle”

“Oh, are you sure? I could come back later”

“No, it’s ok. As a matter of fact, keep it, in case you need anything else” you smile, groaning when your pager goes off again. “Ugh, gotta run! Say thanks to Billy for me”

“Will do” she waves, smiling as you practically put the entire pop-tart in your mouth.

Wanda ignores the regret she feels over not asking for what she really wanted. It wasn’t a baking tray, but some time with you.

—

“Is that your pager or mine?” you say, moaning when Carol’s lips travel lower, pulling your pants down.

“It can wait” she says, leaving open mouthed kisses as you part your legs, your fingers threading through her locks.

“The word emergency is in my job description” you say, reaching out and sighing with relief. “It’s yours”

“Is it 911?”

“Nope”

“Good. Now shut up and let me eat your pussy” Carol says, her tongue darting out to taste you, your hips canting up to move against her mouth.

“Fuck” you say, breathless as you ride Carol’s face. She leaves her place between your legs and you’re about to protest when you feel two fingers stretching you.

“Shhh” she says against your mouth, letting you taste yourself in her lips. “Be quiet for me”

You try to stay quiet, but almost let out a moan when someone knocks on the door of the on call room.

“Doctor Danvers?”

“In a minute” she says, a hand over your mouth. Her fingers pump in and out of you faster and the idea of someone waiting on the other side adds to the thrill. You reach your orgasm with a muffled cry.

“You good?” Carol says with a smile, standing up to get her clothes.

All you can do is nod, waiting for your breathing to go back to normal.

“See you later, pretty girl” she kisses your cheek, going out to meet the resident that was looking for her.

It was cliche, hooking up with someone at the hospital, but of course you had needs and no time to fulfill them outside of this building.

The fact that Carol wasn’t looking for anything serious helped too.

No feelings, no complications.

The rest of your shift goes surprisingly quiet, but you’re still urged to go home when Chief Fury comes across you in the hallway.

Since you leave on time and very well rested, you decide to go for a run as soon as you get home. You enjoy the physical exertion and being outdoors, appreciating the beautiful sunset as you jog around the neighbourhood.

It’s barely getting dark when you reach home, Wanda outside talking on the phone. You wave, but the tense smile she gives back makes you walk to her house instead of yours.

“Everything ok?” you ask as soon as she hangs up.

“Yeah, I had this thing but the nanny cancelled last minute”

“Oh, that sucks, I’m sorry” you look back to your place, and then your eyes meet hers. “Why don’t I take care of the twins for you?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to… you just got back from work, you’re probably tired”

“It was an easy shift, for once. Plus, I gather they don’t stay up too late, right?”

“No, it would only be two hours, three tops” she promises and you nod.

“It’s settled then, let me just take a shower real quick”

Wanda nods, her eyes raking over your body. She suddenly wished you’d go for runs more often, as you tend to wear really short shorts that show your toned legs.

“I can’t thank you enough” she says, going back to reality.

“Pancakes are always a good call” you wink, going across the street to your place. “Be right back!”

As you shower and change into more comfortable clothes, a part of you gets nervous over babysitting Billy and Tommy. Sure, you were good when you did your rounds in Peeds, but that didn’t mean anything compared to spending an evening making sure they were entertained enough.

Either way, you can’t back out now, so you cross the street, knocking on Wanda’s door. You’re taken aback by how beautiful she looks with a red skirt and red turtleneck sweater, knee high boots completing the outfit.

“You look amazing” you say, forcing yourself to look at her eyes, but it’s not any better, the make up enhancing her features and those striking green eyes.

“Thank you” she says shyly and you nod, not trusting yourself with your words. Wanda moves aside to let you in and you find Billy and Tommy in the living room.

“Hey, kiddos” you greet and they look at you excitedly.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you gonna hang with us?”

“Yeah, of course! We’ll have some fun” you ruffle Tommy’s hair, and inspect Billy’s cast. “Woah, someone has a lot of stickers”

“All of my classmates gave me one! I still have some space here, wanna pick one out?” the boy says, and you smile. Yeah, he moved on from the scared stage to being the cool kid with the broken arm at school.

“Of course, I’ll have to find some cool sticker in my collection” you promise.

Wanda leads you to the kitchen, showing you around. Your mouth waters at the smell of the pasta she made.

“I won’t be gone for long. They’re supposed to be in bed at 9 but I know they’ll get excited because you’re here so I’ll leave it up to you to decide”

“Alright. I’ll try my best to be the adult in the room”

“And remember…”

“No candy after 8” you repeat and Wanda chuckles.

“I can’t thank you enough, seriously” she says, walking towards the door.

“Not a problem”

The boys go say goodbye to their mom, and you think it’s adorable how they hug her and each give her a kiss on the cheek.

Wanda waves goodbye and you close the door, blushing as you appreciate one last time how amazing she looks in that outfit.

“So, what do the Maximoffs do for fun around here?”

“We watch movies or play videogames”

“Oh, like what? Crash, Spyro?” you say excitedly, because you love videogames and it’s been ages since you’ve played.

“What’s a Spyro?” Billy says, confused.

“What? Dude!”

“Dude!” the twins turn to each other, speaking at the same time. Oh, no.

“Damn it” you curse and they repeat that too. You cover your mouth with your hands, afraid of letting out another word that is way worse. “Alright, don’t speak like that. Only adults can say certain words”

“But Mom doesn’t speak that way either”

“That’s because she’s a very mature person. Come on, I’ll show you the best videogame ever”

While you wait for the game to download on their console, Tommy shows you around the house, Billy close behind.

“Can we have dinner before playing?”

“Sure” you nod, going back to the kitchen where you take plates, serving pasta and juice for the twins while you settle on a can of soda.

“Your mom is the best cook, I swear” you say with your mouth full, making the kids laugh. It’s been forever since you’ve had a homemade meal.

“Do you cook?”

“God, no. My talents are limited to medicine, Billy”

“So, do you eat hospital food?” Tommy says, grossed out and you laugh.

“We have a cafeteria and the food is ok, plus I forget to eat most of the time anyway. But seriously, your mom’s food is to die for. That’s just an expression, obviously”

“She made cookies. Can we have some?”

You look at the clock, and it’s almost 8.

“Alright, one for each”

The twins cheer, eating their pasta and asking you questions, most of them innocent, until…

“Why don’t you have kids?”

You choke on your drink, the boy blissfully unaware of how awkward you feel.

“Oh, well, Tommy… being a surgeon takes a long time. You have to go to school for a lot of years and then work at a hospital. So, there’s not a lot of time left to do other stuff”

Please don’t ask me how babies are made.

Thankfully, the questions stop once you give them a cookie, and they munch on them as you set up the game.

“He’s a dragon!” Billy says, amazed at the little purple creature prancing around the screen. They laugh when Sparks eats the butterflies and you can’t help the grin that’s on your face, remembering your childhood and how you used to spend your days playing.

“Your turn” you hand the control to Tommy, showing him the basic commands. Billy leans against you, asking some questions about the game.

You hold the control on the right side so he can push the buttons on the left once it’s his turn, enjoying the way they celebrate each time they get a chest full of diamonds.

The music of the game is very soothing, and after an hour playing, they’re both struggling to keep their eyes open. One glance at the clock tells you it’s 9:30, so the timing is perfect.

“Anyone tired?”

“No” Tommy lies.

“Really? I was thinking of trying out how strong I am, carrying both of you upstairs”

That makes them giddy and before they can run away, you carry them over your shoulders. The twins kick and scream, laughing as you go up the stairs.

“I’m so strong” you say as you reach the final step, trying to hide how out of breath you are.

“Now go down the stairs!"

“Uh, pass. Brush your teeth, come on” you say.

“Can we wait for mommy to be back?” Billy says before going inside the bathroom.

“Sure thing. Change into your PJs and we’ll read a story while we wait for her”

Of course, by the time they’re tucked in and you’re reading from the book Tommy choose, both boys are struggling to stay awake.

By 9:45 you leave their room quietly, closing the door behind you and going back to the first floor.

Your body is finally catching up to the exhaustion of the day, but you clean the kitchen and scroll through your phone, reading updates for patients and a text from Carol asking about your next shift.

Just when you’re about to answer her, the front door opens. At first, Wanda makes some noise, but upon seeing the quiet in the house, she closes the door softly, removing her boots.

“Hey” you say, leaning against the wall, hands on your pockets. “Had fun?”

“Uh, sorta” Wanda makes a face and you raise an eyebrow. “It was a blind date that went horribly wrong”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” she walks up to you, and you appreciate how short she is, without the heels she’s always wearing. “The restaurant was awful, he was an ass, and I am never ever letting my coworkers set me up with someone again”

You laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders.

“That sucks, especially the part about the food”

“Yeah. I’ll just grab whatever from the fridge”

“Ok. The kids are asleep. We had dinner, played some games and they wanted to wait up for you but it was almost 10. I’ll... uh, leave you to it” you get distracted by the way Wanda bites on a strawberry, your eyes going to her lips.

“Oh, yeah, of course. You must be tired” she says and your mind must be playing you tricks because she sounds disappointed.

You make a face, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Sorry, I just… would you stay while I eat? It would be nice to have pleasant company while I pretend this date never happened”

“Sure. I can definitely have more of your pasta”

This time, Wanda pulls out a bottle of red wine, and you enjoy the taste of it along with the food she made. It feels like the fanciest meal you’ve had in ages, even if it’s just at your neighbours kitchen.

“What about you?” Wanda says between bites.

“What about me?”

“Do you date?” she says with a smile, sipping from her glass.

“No, not really. It’s hard to do it with my crazy work hours. And I’m not sure I’d date another surgeon”

“Why not?”

“Some of them are batshit crazy” you say, making Wanda laugh.

“Oh, this is the first time I’ve laughed this evening”

“Happy to be of service" you raise your glass. "I’m gonna be a doctor for a second and feed my curiosity. Who else has twins in your family?”

“Me”

“What?”

You’ve met her for two years and somehow, you never knew this?

“Yeah, I have a twin brother. He lives across the country” Wanda says.

“That sounds nice. Not the living away part, but having someone to grow up with” you say, thinking about your own childhood. Wanda waits for you to look up, and you explain yourself. “I was an only child, but then my mom remarried when I was eleven. She and her husband had more children but, I don’t know, I never felt part of it”

“Was it something they did?” Wanda says with a soft voice, her hand coming closer to yours.

“Uh, no. My mom’s really nice, and I’m sure she didn’t do anything on purpose… but of course you’ll turn your focus to your youngest children, that’s how it works. I try to be around but it doesn’t feel like I belong. So I’m better at the hospital, working the days away”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s fine, really. Maybe I’ll return her calls one of these days”

“Wow, now I feel special because you answer my texts” she jokes and you nod.

“You are special, Wanda”

The woman blushes, you biting your lip at the beautiful shade of red tinting her cheeks.

In spite of yourself, the alcohol relaxes you and you let out a yawn.

“Someone’s past their bed time”

“Yeah, yeah” you rub your eyes, standing up to wash the dishes.

“Let me” Wanda says, standing between you and the sink. For a moment, you consider pulling her closer and kissing her, but it’s probably the sleep depravation, or the alcohol making you delusional.

“Thanks, Wanda” you stay close, your eyes never leaving her face.

“Thank you, for taking care of them”

“Anytime” you nod, taking a step back before you act on your feelings.

“Text me when you’re home?” Wanda asks and you laugh.

“I live across the street”

“Yeah, but you had wine and you’re tired, one never knows in these cases”

“Fine” you linger on the threshold of the door, smiling as she looks at you. “Night, Wanda”

You wait until you’re home to pull out your phone, smiling as you type.

Y/N: Just got home. Traffic was horrible!

Wanda: Very funny.

Y/N: :)

Wanda: Night, Y/N

[sinofwriting]

Lost then Found - Charles Leclerc/Reader/Max Verstappen, Logan Sargeant/Reader

Words: 4,549 Summary: Charles and Max are together and she needs to move on, get over them before her feelings get any bigger and harder to handle.

Note(s): Partial SMAU. No part two will be written

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

This was far more difficult than it should be, she couldn’t help but think.

When Max and Charles had told her that they were together, she knew that the days of being a trio were over. She had made her peace with it as soon as the next day had rolled around and she had let herself cry, because it hurt more than she expected seeing the two people she liked so much being in love with each other. She knew that they’d want time alone, time to go out on dates, to just spend time with each other, without other people, without her.

So, she retreated. Started texting to ask if she could come over to Max’s or Charles’, double checking that they still wanted her to come over when they asked, knocking on front doors instead of just letting herself in like before. She nearly gave back her keys to both their places, but kept them. They’d give them to her in case of emergencies, it just so happened that they then urged her to use them to just let herself in at any time. She did however take back her own spare keys, slipping it off of their key rings when they were distracted. The one going back in her safe in her bedroom, the other going to Arthur, who thankfully hadn’t asked questions just kissed her on the forehead with a murmured breath of idiots before threading their arms together and making her walk with him around Maranello.

She had figured it would be easy to fall away from them, that they’d like the time to be together just them. But she’s still getting invited to come over for random lunches and dinners. For movie night whether it’s over discord when she hasn’t joined them at a race or in Max’s living room or Charles' hotel room.

It hurts to say no to those offerings, to not say yes every time they offer, but it also hurts to see them together and she can’t be around them as often as she used to with her feelings so large for them and hopefully not apparent.

So, she asks for Arthur’s help. She loves them, yes, but she isn’t in love with them. And that means the world of difference, because she can get over them, will get over them.

Her feet are in his lap as they scroll through her tiktok that’s displayed on her TV. It makes her miss the F2 weekends, the races she always attends, just to tag along with Arthur. To support him, and how always the night before the feature race no matter how much Max or Charles will plead, she’ll go to his hotel room and they’d do the same thing. Scrolling through her tiktok, either laughing or scoffing at what’s shown.

She curls her toes gently into his thigh, laughing at the slight hiss he gives. “How are your toes so cold?” She shrugs, wiggling them a bit before he puts a blanket over them, setting his hand on top of the blanket where her toes are underneath. “Why is your hand so warm?” “Do you really want to know?” She makes a face at him and he does the same back and they both break into giggles.

“I was wondering,” “Oh?” He looks away from the TV, eyes focusing on her. “If the offer to set me up with someone was still on the table.” His eyebrows are raised. “But what about,” “They are together, happy and in love. I’m happy with being their friend, but to be a better friend I need to get over my feelings before it hurts them or their relationship and that is the last thing I want.”

She means it as well. She is happy for Charles and Max even if she hadn’t thought that they'd get over themselves and admit that they felt something for each other. It also helps that the distance has helped with the hurt she feels seeing them. It’s more bittersweet than anything to see them so happy together.

He looks at her for a few seconds before nodding. “Of course. Paul is interested.” Her eyes go wide. “Paul is a child!” “He’s nineteen, that’s not a child.” Arthur denies. “And I’m twenty-three, same as you. I don't want to rob the cradle so to speak.” “Okay, no one that young.”

She watches as he thinks about it before smirking at her. “Ya know, Pierre and Kika have talked of having a third.” She scowls at him. “Maybe someone single and who isn’t best friends with Max or Charles.” “Fine.” he chuckles. “You know I only know people in motorsports, though. They will know them.” “I’m aware, Thur.” She gently prods his thigh. “Now, give me a name or two.” “Logan.” She feels blood rush to her face and looks away from her best friend at the sound of his name and Arthur’s eyes narrow.

“What is that about?” He reaches forward to poke at her temple that’s now facing him. “I may have slept with him.” “No.” He’s shaking his head when she looks at him again. “When?” “Last year at Abu Dhabi before his Williams testing.” She tells him, laughing when he gently hits her calves. “And you never told me?” “It happened one time!” She defends herself. “And we both agreed not to really talk about it.” He shakes his head, “Unbelievable. Do you want me to set you up? Give you his number?” Her eyebrows raise at Arthur having his number as she thinks about it.

She liked Logan, maybe not entirely like that, but she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. He was sweet, funny and earnest. She could see herself having a good time with Logan even if it didn’t end up being a relationship that lasted forever or went too serious. Afterall she had a good time with him the last time they saw each other.

“Yeah, I’d like his number.”

—

Arthur didn’t know how he had ended up in the house of the enemy (it was said enemy offering him to use his sim) but he was already regretting that he came over, especially with his brother being over as well and the fact that the enemy, or now two enemies wouldn’t let him use the sim.

“What is wrong with her?” “Nothing is wrong.” He repeats, feeling bored of their worries about Y/N. It was stupid that they thought he’d be this relaxed if something was wrong with her, she was his best friend after all, despite what Max and Charles liked to think. “Really? Because we haven’t seen her in a week, a week Arthur! We have been home.” He shrugs, “I don’t know. I saw her just today.” “So, she’s at home.” “No.” Arthur looks around the living space of Max’s place, eyebrows raising at the grand piano that now resides by some of his trophies. “I drove her to Nice, this morning.” “Nice?” Max eyebrows are furrowed. “She never goes to Nice.” Arthur shrugs, leaning back in his seat and taking out of his phone, swiping through his messages. “She has a date.” “She has a what!?” Arthur has to hide his smirk as the two Formula 1 drivers yell. “I’ve been trying to set her up with someone for awhile now. She finally said yes.” “With who?”

—

“This was really nice.” She smiles up at Logan, liking how she has to tilt her head up a bit to look at him with how they’re standing. “I had a really good time.” There’s a hand now resting on her waist and she shudders at the touch, at how Logan is looking at her, at how this whole day had gone. It had been so long since she went on a date, she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

“Maybe next time we could do this in London?” He grins at her, “Really?” “It wouldn’t be fair if only you were flying.” She pauses, “I need a bit of notice, but I could also do Florida.” His smile and eyes soften. “I’d like that. I’m going back for Christmas until the fourth of January. But maybe if our next date,” Her smile widens at the words next date, the quiet but sure confidence in them. “Goes well, you could fly down on the third and we do a little road trip, explore some of America.” “I’ve never been before.” “I mean, I’ve only really been to places for racing other than Florida.” “So, you’ve only been to Florida.” He laughs but nods, “yeah, only to Florida.” “I’d like that. Just tell me how much time you want to spend there and I’ll use my vacation days up.” “You don’t want to wait until our next date?” “I don’t think I do. Do you?” She asks, stepping closer. “No.” He murmurs and then he’s bending, their lips just separated. “I don’t think you do.”

—

She’s brimming with excitement when she gets to Arthur’s place. Her fingers keep brushing over her lips and cheeks where Logan had kissed her. Her mind keeps replaying his words, his laugh, the little sigh he gave when she kissed him again before they parted ways.

She doesn’t bother knocking on Arthur’s door, he had told her that if she wasn’t going to let him pick her back up that’d he keep the door unlocked for her so she could come straight to him after her date.

“Thur.” She calls, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter. “I’m back, all safe and sound.” She rounds the kitchen counter, opening his fridge and stealing a beer before making her way to the living room and plopping down on his couch. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she can’t help but remember how excited Logan had gotten when he realized that her dress had pockets. The fresh memory, barely seven hours old, has her grinning again.

“So, it went well?” She looks up and sees Arthur standing in the entry of the living room, a beer in one hand while his other is taking a towel to his hair, explaining his silence. “It did. In a few days, I’m gonna fly to London, spend the day with him.” “It went really well.” He sits beside her, eyeing her. “You seem excited.” “I am.” She laughs. “It was just, it was so nice, Thur. And at first I thought maybe it was just going on a date, but on the way here, I think it was not only that but it was him.” He looks at her and wonders why he ever thought there was a possibility of her being in love with Max and Charles, not just liking them as she claimed, when after one date with Logan she looked like this.

—

“We’ve missed you.” Charles murmurs, holding her tight to him, Max has his arms around the both of them. “Where have you been?” He asks, pulling away to gently touch her face, to run his thumb under the dark circles that aren’t as prominent as they usually are. “I’ve been busy.” She tells him, squeezing Max’s arm that’s still wrapped around her before stepping away from the both of them. “Work always gets weird in December.” Max frowns, “Just work?” Her eyebrows furrow, “Not just work. But mainly.” “We’ve been home for over a week and this the first time we’ve seen you is all.” Charles smooths out the slight tension. “Usually we see you on our first day back and when we swung by your place you were never home, never made plans to see us, never just dropped in.” She smiles at Charles and he feels his heartbeat quicken at the sight. Max’s smile did the same thing to his heart as well.

“How has being home been? How are my loves?” She asks and then there’s two cats winding around her ankles and she’s bending to pet and coo at them. “Hello my loves! Look at you both, so pretty and handsome.” Max huffs out a laugh. “I swear you love them more than us.” “Oh absolutely.” She laughs. “Jimmy and Sassy are far better than you two. Huh babies?” She directs the last part to the cats who let her give them one more pet before darting away.

“How have you two been?” She asks when they all sit down in the living room, the three of them all on the large couch that Max’s living room holds. “We’ve been good.” Charles smiles, eyes lighting as he thinks of the past week that had been pretty much just him and Max. It had nearly been perfect, so close. Max nods. “I’m very happy Brad isn’t my trainer anymore, he’d have a heart attack if he saw what was in the fridge.” She laughs, whole face brightening. “You always do this in December though and it’s not as if you stop your training. It will be weird not seeing Brad.” “Rupert will be an adjustment.” The Dutchman sends Charles a look. “He won’t ever be in Monaco other than the GP. Not when Andrea is willing to work with me as well. We both know that Rupert is just to save face mostly.” “And to have a trainer with you in Red Bull.” Charles pouts at the two of them. “I don’t like this.” Max and her both share a look before laughing and she wraps an arm around Charles, giving him a side hug. “The poor baby.” She coos. He flushes at the word baby, nearly shuddering at the idea, the sound of both Max and her calling him baby at the same time.

“What have you been up to?” Max redirects, easily taking the focus off of Charles as his poor boyfriend takes a moment to compose himself. “Work mostly.” She gives a tired sigh. “Thankfully though I’ve only got another week and then I’m off until January twentieth.” Both of their eyebrows raise. “The twentieth? But you usually go back on the second or fifth.” “I have a bunch of vacation saved up. I want to use some of it to bring in the new year, start it off stress free, or as stress free as I can get.” “They still won’t let you go fully remote?” Max asks, frowning. She shakes her head. “No. Which is ridiculous considering that I’m allowed to go with you guys for race weekends and such as long as I do my work remotely. I mean, I’m already doing so much of it at home.” She shakes her head again and the smile that had been on her face is gone, whole face covered in stress. “Have you given any thought to leaving?” Charles is careful as he broaches the topic. He knows how much she loves the company she works for, despite them not allowing her to go fully remote. “A little.” Max rests his hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze seeing her sad smile.

Charles, seeing the smile and the touch on the knee from Max, nudges her lightly. “We should go somewhere, the three of us. Right after the new year. Go to Bali, Malta, or Greece again.”

Greece had been amazing when they went, just before Max and him had kissed for the first time. Getting to see both of them enjoying the water and sun, skin all on display as she chased them around with sunscreen. The tipsy nights in the living room of where they were staying, furniture pushed back as they danced around, pressed all up against each other.

“Right after the new year?” Charles nods and Max joins him, also remembering Greece. “It would be fun. Another trip just the three of us.” “I have plans right after the new year.” Both of their eyebrows furrow. “Plans?” Charles asks. Her eyes drift to her lap for a second. “Yeah. I started seeing someone and we agreed to do a roadtrip. I’m gonna fly out on the third to meet him.” “Oh.” “Is it serious? Between you two?” She smiles at Max, “I don’t know yet. It’s still early.”

—

“I’m not telling you. It is none of your business.” Arthur tells Charles, a frown on his face. “Arthur,” “No.” He doesn’t bother lowering his voice like Charles has, obviously not wanting Lorenzo or Maman to hear him. “C’mon Arthur. What if he doesn’t treat her right? Hurts her?” His jaw twitches, lips thinning. “You really think that? That I’d set her up with someone that might hurt her? She’s my best friend, Charles. I wouldn’t do that.” “Do what?” Lorenzo asks, as he and Maman join them at the table again, Charles’ face having softened, an apology on the tip of his tongue. “Y/N started seeing someone. I set her up. Charles wants to know who.” “Charles.” Maman scolds and he ducks his head. “I just,” he stops, struggling. “Max and I didn't think that she’d start seeing someone. We thought we’d have time.” Lorenzo's face looks a lot like Arthur thinks his face looks like. “You have to be joking.” “What?” “Charles, you and Max are lovely together. We are happy for you. But you got together knowing that you also wanted her in the relationship as well, but you never did anything about it. It’s been six months and you still haven’t done anything. You can’t begrudge her for finding some happiness.” “No.” Charles shakes his head. “Never.” He glances at the faces of his family. “We know that we may be too late. We just want to make sure she is treated well, right. Is taken care of and is happy. Max and I love her, we want the best for her.” “Arthur wouldn’t set her up with someone he thought would make her unhappy.” “I know.”

—

“Logan!” She squeals as he picks her up, his chest dripping with water pressed against her back. “Put me down!” She laughs. He laughs as well and does put her down, but quickly spins her around, the two now chest to chest. “That better?” She loops her arms around his neck, nodding. ”Much better.” Tilting her head she presses their lips together, humming when he presses her somehow even closer.

—

yourusername

Liked by charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 2778 others yourusername: Florida, you have treated me so well and I couldn’t think of a better place to start the roadtrip off, though it does pain me to leave. First stop is New Orleans! (and until next time Miami, I miss you already)

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charlesleclerc: Looks beautiful user1: You look so pretty!!! And that water! arthurleclerc: Did he not tell you about other things in Florida? ⤷ yourusername: but the beach Thur, the beach! user2: Ooh a boy user3: Charles commented!!!

yourusername

Liked by paularon, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc and 1521 others yourusername: New Orleans! Beignets are a must now and I will be attempting to learn to make them as soon as I’m back home (along with gumbo, oh my god). Thank you for buying me about a hundred beignets in two days and coffee!

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maxverstappen1: Will you share? ⤷yourusername: of course, Max! user4: Love that bar! user5: Where’s your next stop? ⤷yourusername: our next stop is Dallas/Fort Worth! user6: Beignets are so good, I don’t blame you for eating nearly a 100

yourusername

Liked by arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc and 3028 others yourusername: When in Texas, cowboys hats are a must! (though they make kissing a bit difficult) We both had only been to the Austin area, so getting to see a bit of Dallas and Fort Worth was lovely (not pictured me crying from happiness as I pet a horse and my boyfriend laughing at me) Next stop is Phoenix, Arizona

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arthurleclerc: I’m going to need that picture ⤷yourusername: Not happening user7: I know we talk about the girlfriend effect, but can we talk about the boyf effect??? My girl seems to be glowing ⤷user8: for real! Whoever he is, he is treating her good charlesleclerc: I am familiar with that part of Texas ⤷yourusername: Definitely user9: Every post makes my dreams of the lestappeny/n throuple die ⤷user10: THEY ARE JUST FRIENDS! ⤷user9: girl, tell that to Max and Charles

—

“Boyfriend?” Her eyebrows furrow at the weird tone in Charles’ voice. “What?” “Your instagram post. You call him your boyfriend.” It’s weird for Max to be the one clarifying. It’s always Charles between the two to do it. “Yeah. I mean that happened in Florida. Right after I got off the plane he asked me.” She smiles at the memory of the candy in his hands, the little anklet with the letter L on it that he gave her in the car. “And he is good to you?” “Yes. He’s the best, Cha.” “Maybe we can meet him when you get back? Before the season starts.” She glances at Logan, who is talking on the phone, his free hand gesturing. “Do you want me to invite Arthur as well?” “No.” Charles’ answer is swift as is Max’s. “If you trust him, we can trust him.” She smiles, eyes crinkling when Logan winks at her. “Of course. We’ll be in Monaco in a week and half for a few days before he goes back to London. Let me know when you're free, yes?” “We will look. Be safe.” “Wear lots of sunscreen!” “I will!”

—

yourusername

Liked by jensonbutton, maxverstappen1, joristrouche and 1023 others yourusername: Thank you to the random person for taking our photo and I promise we didn’t just look at cacti while in Arizona. Time for our next and last stop California!

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user11: Your welcome! You and your bf were real sweet! ⤷yourusername: Too kind! jensonbutton: You two up for some babysitting? ⤷yourusername: Jenson… you better not be joking about getting to watch the baby buttons ⤷jensonbutton: I would never arthurleclerc: I just know he touched a cactus user12: Every day we get closer to finding out who she’s soft launching

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, logansargeant and 2,064 others yourusername: California! The last state on this trip! It’s been fun and hopefully next year we can do another road trip and explore some other states (perhaps in a few years have all 50 checked off).

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user13: I didn’t realize that they had been together for so long user14: Is that Laguna Seca? ⤷yourusername: It is! user15: Race track!!! arthurleclerc: Can’t believe he got you to go karting user16: The club vibes in the last photo

brittnybutton

Liked by yourusername, jensonbutton, jamesharveyblair and 3,218 others brittnybutton: Thank you yourusername and boyfriend for watching the kiddos! Loved having you stay with us for the two days.

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yourusername: Thank you for letting us! jensonbutton: Well behaved bunch they were user17: Brittny is helping her soft launch… I can’t user18: yourusername would be such a good mom user19: parents

—

“Max! Charles!” Her voice is bright, smile wide and Max swallows thickly, wrapping his arms around her. “You look good.” He tells her, pressing his lips to the top of her head before letting her go, Charles eagerly swooping in to hug her.

She’s glowing, Max thinks as he watches Charles and her hug. His boyfriend murmuring some compliment or complaint in her ear as he gently sways her. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this happy before. It hurts but is also relieving to see.

“Where is your boyfriend?” Max asks when Charles finally lets her go. She smiles at Max as they all sit down at the table, a spread of food and drinks already laid out, plates and silverware in front of them. “He’s changing.” “Do we get to know his name? Or will we,” Charles starts to ask but his voice dies in his throat making Max look at him in concern before following his gaze and understanding fills him. “Logan, hi.” The Williams driver smiles at them, sitting in the empty chair next to Y/N. “Hey guys.” Max watches as she beams at Logan, her whole face just brightening before she looks at them, a sorry smile on her face. “I should’ve told you both sooner, who it was, but I didn’t know how.” He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. We are just shocked is all.” “Very.” Charles agrees. “Arthur set you two up?” Max squeezes Charles’ hand, intertwining their fingers together. “Yeah. I was a little shocked getting the message from him, didn’t even know he still had my number.” Logan laughs. “But he asked if I was interested, I was, so two days later I flew to France for our first day.”

“You two look happy.” She smiles at Charles before looking at Logan. “We are.” “And Jenson knew about it?” Max asks, remembering Jenson’s comments about babysitting and then his wife’s post. Logan blushes and she laughs. “Yeah, Jenson’s really been helping me out since July and I told him after she booked her tickets to Florida.” “That’s good. It’s always nice to have a grid dad, no?” Logan flushes even more as Max laughs. “Just because Seb treated you like a child does not mean we all need to have a grid dad.” “But, Lance had Checo, Oscar has Mark, you had Fernando.” “I didn’t have Fernando.” “You had Fernando.” She agrees with Charles. “He was the only driver not talking shit about you, Fernando was all about your chaos. He’s your grid dad.” Max pouts but it’s quickly chased away by a kiss to the cheek from Charles that makes him grin.

—

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logansargeant: Happy 3 months baby! user20: 3 months??? user21: wdym they’ve only been together 3 months user22: She’s dating Logan? Crying user23: omg mom gave us a dad and it’s america man

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[sarahscribbles]

So I've been battling with this little idea for a few days but other projects keep me from writing it…

Loki takes y/n shopping and they end up in a lingerie store where y/n teases him by trying on some spicy sets. Of course Loki doesn’t like to be provoked like that and takes her in the changing room💚

Sorry it took me so long to get to this, my love! I hope it's what you had in mind!

𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑.𝟐𝐤

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐃𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It’s well into the afternoon by the time you leave the fifth store that day still empty handed. The shopping trip has, so far, been entirely unsuccessful, and you know that Loki’s patience is hanging on by a very thin thread. He’ll never say it, of course, but you noticed the silent roll of his jaw when you emerged from the last changing room and announced that none of the dresses you’d tried on were The One. 

He hadn’t believed you when you had told him over and over that finding the perfect outfit for Natasha’s birthday would be a marathon and not a sprint. Likely, he thought you’d emerge victorious from the first store and he could whisk you back to bed to celebrate, but you can feel the tetchiness and exasperation beginning to roll off him as you continue hand in hand down the street. 

Your fiancè is an angel, he really is, because no one - not even Wanda - has lasted this long on a shopping trip without voicing their irritation. Given how long you’ve both been traipsing around Manhattan, you have no doubt that Loki’s tolerance is balancing precariously on a knife edge. 

He hasn’t voiced a single complaint, though, something you take as just another confirmation that you’re choosing to spend your life with the right person. 

“You’re being so brave,” you say with an exaggerated air of solemnity. 

You turn to him with an expression that mirrors your tone and he responds with an elegant snort of laughter that makes you grin. 

Loki’s hand squeezes yours and he runs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “Little menace,” he teases lightly. “Remind me to take you at your word next time, lest I have to suffer like this again.” 

You know he’s teasing because the man would move mountains if he so much as thought you’d want him to, but you still nudge him with your hip as you walk. 

“I promise that the next store will be the last! I feel like this one will be The One!” you assure him, already beginning to think of a hundred different ways you can make today up to him. Loki will never expect you to, of course, but how could you possibly turn down the chance of spending several hours in bed with him? 

“My darling, you do realise you’ve said that each time we’ve stopped in the last hour?” Loki replies, but the affection colouring his words is impossible to miss.

“Yes, but I have a really good feeling about the next place! Trust me!” you tell him, tugging him down the next street Wanda recommended that morning. 

It takes less than a minute to locate the boutique amongst the crowds of people. Typical of Wanda, it’s bright and loud and stands out like a beacon amidst the more neutral tones of the surrounding shops. You’re halfway towards the door, though, when something else catches your eye only a few doors down - a racy pink sign with an elegant script that you’re sure you’ve seen on bags scattered around Nat’s room. 

A new idea begins to blossom and take shape in your mind. 

With a casualness that would make the Black Widow proud you stroll past the boutique until you reach the lingerie store. It’s only when you’re standing right outside the doors that you peek up at Loki. He silently offers you a raised eyebrow and the subtle beginnings of a smirk. 

“I’m going to need something to wear under the dress,” you say in explanation. 

Loki’s hand leaves yours so he can gently pinch your ass through your jeans. “I believe you raise a very valid point.” 

oOo

It’s over half an hour before you finally make it to the changing rooms. Unsurprisingly, Loki has found a new lease of life as you wander around picking out various items of lingerie, and each time you attempt to steer him towards the changing rooms, he finds something new and more risque than before. 

Your previous mission of finding an outfit is long forgotten. 

“Honestly, you’d think you’d never seen me in lingerie before!” you tease him as he follows you into the bright pink changing rooms. 

“You’ll forgive me for never ceasing to be enthralled by how exquisite you are, darling,” he responds smoothly, locking one arm around your waist to pull you back against his chest and planting a kiss to your neck. 

“Yeah, yeah, Casanova. I’ve already agreed to marry you. You don’t have to try and seduce me,” you reply. 

“That is my life long intention,” he says quietly in your ear. 

You fight the excited shiver that threatens to wrack your spine, instead turning to give him an affectionate roll of your eyes as you step into the changing room. “Just behave while I try these on.”

Loki looks back at you with an expression of feigned outrage. “How can you make those ridiculous requests of me?”

You catch his wink as you close the door and begin to sift through the seemingly endless fabric gathered in your arms. The first set you try on is pink and floaty and makes you feel like a cloud of candy floss, but when you open the changing room door, Loki’s eyes darken as though you’ve stepped out wrapped in leather. 

“How innocent you look, darling,” he purrs, but you watch that trademark smirk curl across his face. “Although you and I both know that’s not the case. Remind me where that little mouth was last night?” 

You playfully flip him off. “This is definitely going in the “no” pile. I feel like I should call you Daddy.” 

Loki visibly cringes. “Please do not ever use that word in reference to me.” 

“You got it,” you say and step back into the room. 

The next set you selected while Loki was otherwise occupied. You have no intention of buying it, but it was impossible to pass up the opportunity to tease him. The bodice is plain but brilliant red in colour, and dips low enough to give you an amazing cleavage. 

Yet, somehow, you don’t think that will be enough to redeem it. 

Loki’s eyes shoot up the second you pull the door open, but his face quickly drops into a scowl when he sees you half naked in his brother’s colours. 

“No,” he says immediately, though you notice his eyes roaming appreciatively over you.

“No? Really? I wasn’t planning on trying anymore after this. It fits perfectly, and I think it looks good!” you say brightly, fighting not to laugh as his eyes narrow. 

“I am not above putting you over my knee in public, dove,” Loki warns you. 

Warmth spreads shamelessly through your lower stomach until you feel that familiar, pleasant tingle between your thighs. You’re almost certain he wouldn’t, but you are dealing with the God of Mischief. It’s the lingering doubt that makes you sashay back into the changing room with Loki’s quiet laughter at your back. 

With the door securely closed you begin to pick through the swathes of material still spread over the marble bench, but it doesn’t take long to decide what you’re trying on next. It’s another that you sneakily draped over your arm while Loki was elsewhere in the store - a feat you’re quite proud of given how he seems to notice everything.

This set is made of delicate black lace - Loki’s kryptonite - and has tiny gold beading woven tastefully into the bodice. The sweetheart neckline gives you an enviable cleavage and when you catch sight of yourself in the floor length mirror against the opposite wall, you can’t help but make an appreciative face at your own reflection. 

You look good.  

After a few circles in front of the mirror - and a brief moment of wishing you could pair the set with the matching stockings - you finally open the changing room door. 

Loki is slower to turn his gaze to you this time, but when he does, it’s impossible to miss the pure lust that alights in his eyes. They run over you slowly from head to toe, like a starving man presented with his first meal. He swallows silently, wets his lips, and in two steps is standing right before you. 

“Enough,” he says huskily, placing a large hand on your shoulder to push you back into the small room with him in tow. 

The door clicks closed behind him, but his eyes never once leave yours. They’re dancing with raw desire, even though he’s seen you like this a million times before. 

“It isn’t fair to tease, dove,” Loki says, reaching out to grab your chin. 

You fix him with a look of feigned innocence. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do, you little minx,” he replies quietly. His other hand is suddenly on your other shoulder and he’s spinning you around until you’re staring at your reflection in the mirror. “Look at your reflection and tell me you aren’t testing the resolve of a god,” Loki murmurs lowly in your ear. 

Ignoring the first flames of arousal that are beginning to lick through your core, you meet his eyes in the mirror. “I was just trying on lingerie. I’m completely innocent.” 

Loki’s hand snakes around your throat from behind, applying just the right amount of pressure. “The God of Lies, darling.”

Even with his hand around your neck you smirk at him. “I think you’re losing your touch on that part.” 

“Brat,” Loki growls in your ear. 

Easily, he walks you forward until your knees hit the wide ottoman sitting just in front of the mirror. His arm curls around your waist before you can crumple, carefully guiding you into a kneeling position atop the soft velvet and slotting himself between your spread calves like a missing puzzle piece. 

“Be a good girl and admit that you were being a tease,” he speaks quietly against your temple. There’s humour in his voice, but it’s mixing with a dangerous note that you’d recognise anywhere.

Loki’s hand is still locked possessively around your neck, making it near impossible to lean into the teasing brush of his lips against your skin. He knows this and continues to ghost them over your flushed cheek, refusing to reward you with the full, thrilling feel of them. 

“Never!” you say through a laugh, and you’re rewarded with the quiet sound of Loki’s right by your ear. 

“As you wish, dove,” he says, each word dripping with warning. 

His free hand creeps slowly along the lace bodice, fingering the intricacies of the lace and the miniscule golden beads until it reaches the matching tiny black thong. With ease, he rips the fabric from your hips and tosses it carelessly to the side in one shocking - but equally arousing - movement.

“Hey! I haven’t paid for this, you know!” you cry out, attempting to appraise the damage but his hand holds your head firmly in place. 

“That’s not my problem,” Loki replies, sinking his teeth into your earlobe and gently pulling on the flesh. 

You groan and plant your hands back on his thighs, digging your nails through his jeans for an added kick. “I’ll make it your prob - o..oh!” you begin to mutter, but Loki’s fingers on your clit steal the words from your lungs. “Mm…fuck…,” you moan, letting your head dip back on his shoulder. 

“Ah, ah.” Loki quickly chastises you, using the hand still wrapped around your neck to guide your head forward. “Eyes on the mirror, dove. Eyes on me.” 

With another strangled moan as he skillfully circles your clit, you obediently keep your eyes trained on him. His face is pressed snugly against your cheek, and finally - finally - you feel the blessed press of his lips against your flushed skin. He leaves a wet trail of kisses all the way to your ear, then you feel the wet heat of his tongue trace a line along the sweet spot behind your ear. 

The only thing keeping you upright is the hand still gripping your throat, but even it can’t suppress the shiver that wracks violently through you. 

Loki’s fingers continue to rapidly propel you towards release, skillfully playing your body in a way only he can. Mixed with the filth that he’s whispering in your ear, you feel your climax begin to crest like a wave in your cunt, and when Loki decides to suck on your earlobe, you know you’re gone. 

“Loki…m’gonna cum. ‘M…gonna…..urghh!!” you cry out in utter frustration when he pulls his hand away from your dripping cunt. 

“I don’t think so, darling,” he purrs smoothly, running the tip of his nose along your cheek. “Not until you admit you were being a brat.” 

The scent of him - the scent of your home - wraps around you like a favourite blanket. It’s patchouli and clove and that ever evasive “something sweet” that drags you under like a buoy beneath the surf. You want to surrender, to lose yourself in this man as he loses himself in you in return, but, unsurprisingly, your stubbornness prevails. 

“Nope!” you say, trying to shake your head as best you can while he still holds it in place. 

Loki releases an exaggerated sigh and dips his fingers back between your thighs. “Very well.” 

Again and again he brings you right to the edge of a blinding release, each time letting your orgasm dangle enticingly before you and snatching it from your grasp when you still refuse to humour him. You whine and plead and beg, but he’s in a particularly sadistic mood this afternoon and refuses to grant you the climax you’re craving. 

By the fifth time, you’re whimpering and wriggling in his grasp. Each of your stolen orgasms are burning through your blood and you’re desperate for what promises to be a cataclysmic release, so when his fingers return once more to tease your aching cunt, you crave. 

“Alright! Ok, I yield! I was being a brat, you were right! I was being a brat and teasing you! Please let me cum now! Please!” you beg, not caring that you’re in a very public changing room in the middle of Manhattan. 

Loki presses his lips to your cheek. “Now, was that really so hard?” he taunts, and brings his fingers to your mouth. “Open.” 

Obediently, you clean your arousal off him and squirm with excitement when you hear him unbuckle his belt and free himself from his jeans. He moves closer still and his cock is achingly hard as he slides it along your slick cunt. You’re all but keening for him, about to burst with how wildly you crave him, but he repeats the motion again and again, laughing quietly as he does. 

“Loki, please!” you whine, pressing your ass back against him in a flimsy attempt to encourage him forward. 

It’s fruitless, you know; Loki does everything at his own pace. 

The hand still wrapped around your throat glides upwards to your jaw, locking your head completely in place. “Your eyes are not to leave this mirror,” Loki murmurs with quiet authority. “I want you to see what this perfect little body does to me. I want you to watch your god come apart. Understood?” 

You’re so madly aroused by this man that you can only manage a whimper, but when he lightly smacks your ass, you quickly find your voice. 

“Yes, Loki!” 

“Good girl. My good, good girl,” he praises you as his cock slips inside you inch by glorious inch. 

You’ve had this man more times than you can count, yet you still groan in absolute bliss when he fills you with his cock. He’s ruined you for anyone else. 

Loki’s face hovers near yours in the mirror and you delightfully watch in contort in pleasure with each thrust into your warm, welcoming cunt. His eyes slip closed in tandem with a broken stream of expletives spilling from his lips, words that you mirror when his fingers find your clit once again. 

Your instant cry of pleasure makes him groan shamelessly in your ear and reward you with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. “Exquisite, darling. You are exquisite,” he rasps in your ear. “Look at what you do to me, you divine creature.” 

And you do watch. 

You watch as he throws his head back on his shoulders, half lost to the pleasure your mortal body is bringing him; you watch his carefully styled hair become more disheveled with each thrust, falling haphazardly around his face in a rainfall of ink black; you watch the deep furrow of his brow and the parting of his lips as his own release builds like a storm within him. 

Watching him is better than any aphrodisiac. It’s addictively erotic - even more so at knowing it’s you that ignited so much desire in him that he had to take you here and now. His name is already etched across your heart, but you want to drown in this man until he’s all your lungs know. 

Watching his ascent to orgasm has only stirred your own to life between your thighs. You’re right at the edge, and this time you know he’ll finally grant you that glittering release. 

“Gonna cum. Loki…gonna cum…m’ gonna…,'' you slur out while his cock continues to brush against you at just the right angle and his fingers on your clit have you close to seeing stars. 

“Cum for me, beautiful girl,” he says roughly, but with a gentle squeeze of your throat.

You topple over easily, groaning his name as your orgasm rips violently through you. Your nails dig deeper into his denim clad thighs for purchase and, seconds later, Loki freefalls right along with you. He catches your eye in the mirror as his own orgasm drags him under, repeating your name like an ancient prayer of salvation.

The sight of him lost to pleasure only magnifies your own until you’re almost sure you’ll pass out from the sheer force of your climax. You don’t break Loki’s gaze for a second, not until the very last aftershocks are rippling through you and you feel boneless in his grip. 

Loki’s hand loosens from your throat in the wake of his own come down. Both arms wrap securely around your waist while his forehead falls to rest in the crook of your neck, his lips instantly latching on to your sensitive skin. You’re still spent and panting, and his cock is still buried inside you, but you gladly bask in the soft feel of his lips pressing along your shoulder. 

“So…d’you think I should buy this one?” you say lightly after a brief moment of silence. 

His answering laughter gently tickles your neck. “Darling, if you don’t, I will have no choice but to do this again and again until you see sense.” 

“That’s…that’s not really persuading me,” you reply, taking one of his hands in yours and bringing it to your lips. 

In response, you feel his teeth graze over your skin. “Hmm, how about this? If you buy this, we will return to the Compound immediately and I will lock our doors for the next few days.” 

You make a show of considering his words. “It’s a start, I guess.”

 Loki chuckles and nuzzles his face against your neck. “My darling, you have no idea what plans I have for you.”

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[band--psycho]

Zayne x Reader - Stitches

Part one of my 'They find out you got hurt on a mission' series. This will include Zayne, Sylus, Xavier and Rafayel! I'll be posting the other stories over the next few days, please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of them!

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

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Warnings: Injuries, needles, injuries being stitched

The moment Zayne was notified that you were in the hospital because of a mission, he pretty much dropped everything. 

Was it his only day off in god knows how long? 

Yes. 

Did he care? 

No. 

The only thing he cared about in that moment, was you. 

Greyson had informed him that your injuries weren’t too bad; you weren’t going to die from them, you just needed to rest for a little while, but that still didn’t stop Zayne from breaking a few speed limits on the way to the hospital. 

“Does it really need to be stitched?” he heard you ask when he reached your room; easily noticing the panic in your voice. 

You were a hunter, and a good one at that, not much scared you, except for two things; spiders and needles. 

“I can do it,” he said; emerging from behind the open door. 

The nurse who was going to stitch you up didn’t argue with him, she just gave you both a polite smile before walking out of the door. 

Leaving you alone with Zayne.

“Zayne-” you quizzically asked, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him; you were told it was his day off today. And in all honesty, you were somewhat relieved when you found this out, not wanting to have a lecture about why going on a solo mission was a bad idea. 

He walked around to the other side of the bed; his eyes narrowing at the wound on your leg. 

It wasn’t the worst wound he’d seen; not by a long shot, but it was a deep cut and he could only imagine how much it was hurting you. 

“I thought it was your day off,” you continued, watching as he picked up the needles from the sterilized metal tray on the table next to you. 

“It is,” he answered simply, picking up the thread, slipping it through the needle with ease. 

“Then why are you-” 

You felt your words trail off as he put some surgical gloves on and sat on the side of the bed, hovering the needle over your wound. 

You knew this was going to hurt; it always did, especially seeing as you hadn’t any anesthetic to numb the area; that would’ve just meant more needles and you didn’t want that. 

You just wanted to get this wound stitched up so you could go home. 

“You need to relax,” Zayne said, his voice softer this time, as he lightly pushed the needle into your skin.

“I’m trying,” you sighed, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down and block out the pain. 

“What happened?” he asked; hoping that his question may help to distract you from the stitching he was doing. 

Normally something like this could be treated in minutes; but because you were so scared of needles he didn’t want to rush you, especially seeing as you’d had no medication to numb the pain. But he also thought that sitting in complete silence would only allow your brain to focus more on the pain. 

“A wanderer caught me off guard,” you explained simply, purposefully leaving out the fact that you went there on your own. 

He glanced up at you with an almost knowing look before turning his attention back to stitching your wound, “Where was your partner?” 

There it was. 

The question you were dreading.

“I uh-” you began; hissing as the needle went through the middle of your wound, “I was on my own.” 

Zayne wasn’t surprised by your answer; the whole reason why hunters teamed up was to prevent things like this from happening, and if you were hurt he knew that your partner would be here with you, either injured themselves or here to support you. 

But instead you were alone. 

“You know you shouldn’t go on missions alone,” he pointed out;  and you did. You knew it was risky, hunting down wanderers on your own always was and you certainly didn’t make a habit of doing it; based on what you’d read in the report, you thought you could handle it. 

And for the most part you did; it was just that one wanderer that had been lurking behind you; you knew it was there, but by the time you’d turned around and fired your first shit at it, it was already too late. 

It was a lucky hit. That was all; and you defeated it just like you had all the rest. 

“I know,” you said knowingly, trying to ignore the pain that was rushing through your leg. 

Only a few more seconds had passed before the wound on your leg was all stitched up courtesy of Zayne; it still hurt, a lot, but at least this way it wasn’t going to bleed anymore. 

“Don’t go on a mission alone again,” he started, placing the needle back down on the tray next to you before removing his gloves, “if you need help, call me,” 

A small smile came onto your face; but Zayne was no hunter, he was a doctor, it wasn’t his job to do that, and that’s why she softly replied back to him “Zayne, that’s sweet but you’re not hunter, it’s not your job to help me,”

“No, it’s my job to look after you and keep you safe,” he rebutled; meeting your eyes before glancing down at the wound on your leg; it was going to scar, but the scar should fade in time; and he’d done his best to make sure that the stitch was as neat as it possibly could be. 

“You were lucky this time,” he continued, his fingers lightly hovering over the wound,  a million different scenarios rushing through his mind about what could’ve happened ....you could’ve died… “what if you’re not next time?”

He knew the risk of being a hunter. 

He knew that sometimes things happened that were out of your control. 

He also knew that you were a great hunter; but if today had proven anything, it was that solo missions were a bad idea, no matter how skilled you were. 

“Zayne-” you began, but your words trailed off when he placed his hand softly on yours; “No more solo missions.”

He wasn’t asking you, he was pleading with you, and that’s when you noticed the worry forming in his eyes. 

“No more solo missions,” you repeated with a small smile, hoping that that would be enough to ease his worry. 

And to an extent it was; he still worried about you of course, but he hoped your words were true, and that if anything like this happened again, you’d call him.

And regardless of what he was doing; he’d be there, to protect you.

Always.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @princess-harvey @callme-amaya @boobearymuch @comatosebunny09 @ryuustoru @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @ladyparamount @ayatoq @cheesemachine44 @popcorn-mochi01 @thegalaxysedge22 @hotdogcookie @book-dragon03

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 8 - More intimate than lovers ☄️

Tags : oblivious Ahsoka, injured Obi-Wan, lots of fluff

~~~

“Get out of the way ! Kriff, move !”

The poor assistant who had the extravagant idea of crossing the corridor with a cart full of medical products - doing her job - at the same time Anakin barges in, gasps loudly and pulls on the handle of her cart with all her strength, avoiding the running Jedi from a hair.

“I'm so sorry, General !” She squeals in horror, but Anakin is already too far away to hear her apologies.

He sprints down the hallway, the soles of his boots skidding and squeaking on the smooth ground at every turn. He's almost out of breath when he storms in the landing hangar, eyes wide as he searches for one specific spaceship.

The Negotiator is parked in the middle of the hangar, the main door already opened on the bridge where clone troopers are offloading some heavy crates.

“Obi-Wan !” Anakin calls, slipping through the crowd while his eyes are scanning the ship’s surroundings for the older Jedi. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s Force signature is very weak, too weak for him to locate him precisely, even when he tries to follow the thin golden thread of their bond.

“Damn it.” He swears when he can’t find him anywhere, panic slowly rising in his chest and curling around his lungs.

He runs to the bridge of the ship, searching for a familiar face, anyone who was on that kriffing mission and could tell him where Obi-Wan is.

“General Skywalker !” Someone calls for him from behind, making him turn around.

He’s relieved to be faced with Cody’s dark buzzcut and moon-shaped scar, someone who’s supposed to know where Obi-Wan is at all times. Someone so loyal Anakin trusts him with Obi-Wan’s life. Someone who knows him too. He doesn’t even need to ask questions, he just tilts his head to the left.

“He’s in the medical bay.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Anakin replies gratefully before running away to the new location.

He crosses the distance in less than five minutes, mumbling apologies every time he pushes someone on his way. Ahsoka is already waiting outside in the corridor, pacing left and right until she hears him coming like a tornado.

She winces and walks to him before he can storm in the emergency room, hands reaching out for him.

“He’s fine.” Is the first thing she says because she knows him so well. “You can't enter.”

Maybe she doesn’t know him that well after all.

“I don't care.”

“I know you don’t.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm when he reaches out for the door. “But you have to let the doctors do their job.”

“I need to see him.” Anakin breathes, removing his arm from his padawan’s grip, gently but firmly enough to warn her from not trying to stop him again.

Ahsoka considers him for a while, taking in his laborious breathing that couldn’t be blamed on his running only, his wide and scared eyes and the way his fingers twitched nervously, aggressively picking at the skin around his nails. He could have said he wanted to see Obi-Wan, but he didn't.

It’s a need. She truly realizes then.

“You’ll have to wait a bit.” She still says, gently taking his hand in his own. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s already too long.” Anakin groans, his signature hanging low like a menacing cloud around him in the Force.

“He's okay, Skyguy.” Ahsoka insists, intertwining her fingers with his own to prevent him from damaging his skin even more. “He was still talking when he was admitted. You know he's tough.”

“Maybe.” Anakin mumbles. “I should have been with him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time.” Ahsoka says patiently.

“Why not ?” Anakin huffs, and Ahsoka smiles before she understands it’s a real question.

“Because… Because you’re both really important for the Republic and we need you to lead our men. They can't afford to waste time by sending you both on the same missions every time.”

Anakin doesn’t answer but she can tell by his expression that he’s not satisfied with the explanation. She wonders how he manages to be separated from Obi-Wan so often on a daily basis. Not well apparently, given his current level of anxiety is through the roof.

She opens her mouth to reassure him when the emergency room’s door opens. A tall woman with very light blonde hair pulled tight in a perfect bun walks out with a fold in his hand.

“Ahsoka Tano ?” She asks, and Anakin uses this exact moment to slip through the door. “Eh, wait !”

“Sorry.” Ahsoka winces apologetically at the doctor. “He’s very worried.”

“Visitors are not allowed.” The woman says with pinched lips. “Is he family ?”

“Uh, kind of.” Ahsoka replies.

She thinks for a second about the right term to describe Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship and she realizes she has none. They’re closer than a Master and his former Padawan were supposed to be, more than friends, even closer than brothers. She never knew one without the other and she didn't wish to know.

“Kind of ?” The doctor lifts a delicate eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Yeah, well. You should thank me for still having a door, because Anakin doesn’t bother with that kind of details when it's comes to Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka smiles and bypasses her to enter into the room.

The sight she finds makes her stop on the doorstep with the impression of interrupting something precious she wasn’t meant to see. Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed where Obi-Wan lies with his forehead pressed against his, gently holding his hands as they whisper quietly to each other.

From where she is she can see that Obi-Wan is smiling, wide and bright in spite of the bandages around his chest and the blood covering one side of his face.

“Family, mh ?” The doctor’s voice resonates quietly beside her, making Ahsoka turn halfway.

“They’re very close.” She retorts, feeling defensive without really knowing why.

“I thought attachment was prohibited amongst Jedi.” The woman still continues but her tone is gentler than earlier, devoid of any judgement. “They look… Intimate.”

Ahsoka blushes at the implication and shakes her head.

“They’re not… It’s not like that. They just care a lot about each other.”

“Sure.” The doctor smiles before leaving her at the door to go check on the other patients of the room.

Ahsoka frowns, confused. She couldn’t find the right words to explain the very special bond between her two masters but it didn’t mean that it was like that woman implied. It couldn’t be. She would have noticed by now. Or whould she ?

She squints at the two Jedi still completely immerged in their own little world, talking to each other like they were all alone. She’s so used to this that she can't see it as anything else than Anakin and Obi-Wan’s normal behaviour toward each other. They’re constantly gravitating in each other’s orbit, looking for each other, touching each other, evolving like they’re in their own private bubble.

It can be annoying sometimes, sure. Especially when one of them comes back injured from a mission and she has to calm down and reassure the other. They might be a little bit obsessed with each other, alright. But it doesn’t hurt anyone, does it ? Caring deeply is not against the Jedi precepts, only unhealthy attachments. And when she looks at them what she sees, burning brighter than any star is-

Unconditional love. She thinks. That’s it. That’s what they have for each other.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, she walks to them, witnessing the way they turn their head at the same time to look at her. Anakin’s eyes and cheeks are a little wet but he does nothing to hide it from her. She takes it as a precious sign of trust.

“So…?” She smirks when she sits on the other side of the bed. “What is the score this time, Master ?”

Obi-Wan snorts and winces just after, putting a hand on his ribcage.

“Three broken ribs.” He sighs. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

“You forget about the concussion.” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “And the fact that one of your ribs punctured your lung.”

“Details.” Obi-Wan mumbles. “I’m fine.”

He looks back at Anakin’s skeptical expression, face softening with such tenderness that Ahsoka looks away with a blush.

“I’m fine.”

“You say that each time.” Anakin grumbles. “And each time you come back even more broken.”

“Jealous that I wear scars better than you ?” Obi-Wan teases, making Ahsoka laugh.

“At least you don’t look like a stupid pirate because you fell on the freshener, Master Kenobi.” She sneaks in.

“You little sh-” Anakin starts but he’s stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand on his mouth.

“Language, Padawans !”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and does something that makes the older Jedi retrieve his hand quickly while a little blush spreads on his cheeks.

Weirdos.

“Alright, I’m very glad to see that you’re doing fine, Master.” Ahsoka says before getting up. “I’m gonna go finish Skyguy’s report because something tells me he’s not going to move from here before a while.”

Anakin, very maturely, sticks his tongue at her.

“Look how I am rewarded for my generosity.” She complains to Obi-Wan, and the traitor has the audacity to laugh.

But not for long because he's quickly reminded about his broken ribs. Some calls it karma.

“Thank you for coming, little ‘Soka.” The older Jedi smiles softly once he’s done wincing in pain. “And for teaching this one some manners about breaking doors.”

“No problem, Sir.” She smiles, giving them both a little salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as she turns around she can feel their bond tighten again between each other in the Force. And if the reflection on the glass door makes it look like they’re sharing a quick, secretive kiss, it’s probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

[lil-binuu]

so we have gangster x barista, but what about gangster x nurse?

━･❪ 𝓜𝔂 𝓝𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮 ❫ ･━

tw: injury, blood, needle and thread, stitching up a wound, pulling bullet out of a wound with tweezers (but nothing is too graphic)

also forgive me for not knowing shit about hospitals and doctors and gunshot wounds 👍

He stumbles into your hospital, hand over the wound on his chest, blood dripping furiously from between his fingers. With all the other doctors busy, you run towards him immediately, taking him to one of the few empty hospital rooms. 

You place a towel against what you recognise to be a gunshot wound to stop the bleeding, the man’s hand coming up to hold it in place even through the pain. 

You close the door and turn to him, putting gloves on and starting to examine his wound. You ask him a series of questions, what’s his name, how long he’s been injured for, how he got shot, but he’s silent. 

You look up at him, eyebrows raised at the unanswered questions. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” 

“Right.” You answered with a sigh. It wasn’t rare for a patient to refuse to tell any personal information, they tend to come around once they realise doctors are there to help. Although, you were a little impressed that he was so stubborn even after getting shot. The adrenaline, probably. 

You sat beside the bed, putting down the towel and using a pair of medical tweezers to find the bullet lodged in his ribcage. Apart from the occasional bad news, the TV in the room made for some nice background noise. 

“And now we hear from Julia Miresse, reporting to us live.” 

He hissed loudly as you pulled out the bullet, grimacing at the pain. You picked up the towel again for him as more blood spurted out. You pipetted a few drops of sodium citrate solution into the wound to help the blood clot quickly, before turning around to place the bullet on a tray. 

“Shots were fired earlier tonight in south Berkeley, injuring and nearly killing two men.”

You looked up at the TV, somewhat interested. 

“The incident is suspected to be of gang violence, with both men attempting to kill each other. One was found in critical condition while the other ran from the scene and has since been identified by CCTV.” 

A picture of your patient's face plastered over the screen. Your mouth fell. 

You took a deep breath, sneaking a small look back at the man in the hospital bed behind you to make sure you had seen it right. He caught your eye, causing you to smile awkwardly. 

The same dark hair that fell over his face, the same scar that ran across the side of his lip. There was no doubt it was him. 

This man could be a criminal. That’s why he didn’t tell you anything, you realised. He can’t know you saw it. You had to alert the other doctors, the police, and do it without him noticing. 

Trying to stay calm, you picked up a wipe, turning back to tend the man’s wound. You pulled at the ripped part of his shirt, attempting to clean the wound. 

“Your shirt is in the way, please remove it.” 

The man sat up, eyeing you suspiciously. You helped to hold up the hem of his shirt as he pulled it over his head, cursing under his breath from the pain of moving. This was the distraction you needed. 

You quickly moved towards the emergency button, reaching to press it but your wrist was caught. 

You gasped, turning to see the man staring at you fiercely. You opened your mouth to scream, but he forced his hand over your mouth before you could, pushing you backwards against the wall. The cold metal of a gun pressing into your neck. 

“Don’t make a fucking noise.” 

He spoke in a low voice, his face close to your ear. 

You were frozen, eyes wide with fear. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You didn’t move, scared to fight back in case he really did shoot you. 

“You saw the TV. The police don’t know I’m here. Were you trying to alert them?”

He asked, threateningly, not letting you forget there was a gun pointing at you. 

“I need you to stitch me up. But you try anything, and best believe you’re not living another day.” 

His hand lowered from your mouth, trusting that you wouldn’t scream after hearing his deadly threats. He reached behind him, picking up the needle and thread. 

“Understand?” 

Taking them carefully from his hand, you nodded, swallowing the lump of anxiety in your throat. 

He let out a shallow breath and reduced the pressure of the gun on your neck. 

Switching your focus back to his injury, you began to clean away the drying blood on his skin, trying to stop your hand from shaking so much. 

Just do your job, it’s not difficult, just stay calm and stitch the wound up like you’ve done many times before, you thought to yourself. 

You took the needle and thread from his hand, making swift eye contact. 

Your hands rested against his skin, as if they were steadying themselves, as they worked the needle through his skin and pulled the thread tight. 

Slowly and carefully, you navigated around the gun. You were surprised he let you, even if it was only to grab a small pair of scissors and a large piece of adhesive gauze. 

Cutting the thread, you placed the gauze against his stitched up wound and pressed down gently so it would stick. The man couldn’t help but wince from the slight pain.

“I’ll get you some antibiotics-”

You began towards the door. 

“-Don’t worry about it.” 

You turned around, ready to protest, he was still your patient after all. 

He smiled at you, before heading towards the window. 

“Hey- wait!” You called, realising what he was about to do. 

In one swift movement he slid up the window and jumped out. 

You ran after, shocked at his reckless actions, stopping at the window sill to watch him run from the hospital. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You were still in one piece.

“Nurse Y/N?” The door opened, the head of your colleague sticking out from behind it. 

You spun around. 

“Yes?” 

“There’s someone here asking for you.” 

what do we think? part 2?

[talaok]

I LOVE LOVE YOUR visiting pedro on set with our daughter imagine 🥺🥺🥺 can u pls do more maybe our daughter visits set again and meet bella and they gang up against pedro? that'll be so cute 🥺🥺🙏🙏🙏

This (lovely) ask referred to this post if you're interested.

She had begged you for a whole week. A whole week of prayers and cries, because she "wanted to see daddy at work again"

And yes it was cute, and yes her father had done a really good job at teaching her how to make puppy eyes, but have you ever had to listen to tantrums on tantrums for five days uninterruptedly? 

Because trust me, the first word that'll come to mind won't be "cute" anymore.

So of course you gave up. 

And that's how you found yourself on set again.

Pedro's eyes sparked as he caught you sitting on his chair with your daughter on your legs.

He smiled and shook his head, murmuring something to someone next to him.

They looked up at him for a second before nodding with a smile.

"Daddy!" your daughter's excited voice made everyone turn to look at you.

You snorted to yourself, as Pedro and, who you now realized was his co-star, walked up to you.

"Hi there peach" your husband grinned as he took her in his arms.

She immidately hugged him as tight as she could, almost cutting his air supply, but Pedro could only chuckle.

"hi baby" she mouthed to you, knowing how possessive your daughter got when in his arms.

"hi" you smiled right back, before turning to this co-star.

"so you must be-"

"Who are you?" Your daughter interrupted you with a bitter thread to her tone

"Emma..." you scolded her "be nice"

"no, it's alright" they smiled "I'm Bella, I work with your dad"

Your daughter's gaze moved attentively between Bella and her dad.

"your name rhymes with mine" she stated after some time, making Bella grin,

"it does"

"Why do you work with daddy if he's old?"

Bella couldn't help but laugh, as Pedro feigned a shocked expression

"Trust me Emma, I ask myself that every day"

"hey!" 

"do you know..." Bella ignored Pedro as they bent down to murmur to her as if they were about to reveal a secret "he even has to lay down to help his back sometimes, it's unbelievable"

A giddy laugh left your daughter's mouth 

"One time we had to stop for half an hour because he couldn't move his back anymore"

"That happened at home too!" Emma giggled "he picked me up and Mom had to help him get me down again because he was stuck"

Bella snorted

"Ok I don't know if I like this combo" Pedro shot you an amused look

"Oh, I love it"

"Would you like a tour, Emma?"

Her mouth widened in excitement, and she turned to look at you and Pedro 

"Can I?"

Your husband looked at you for approval, and once you nodded, he turned to his daughter

"of course honey, just be careful," he said, putting her down

" I'm always careful"

"Sure you are, you little pest" Pedro chortled, ruffling some hair on her head "Now go, have fun" he urged, watching as the pair disappeared behind the set.

"I thought she was here to see me" he joked, sitting down beside you

"I think you might have some competition"

"Yeah" he laughed, "I think I might"

__ __ __

"Speaking of which, where are they? It's been half an hour"

"shit" your heartbeat quickened a little bit, as you immediately jumped off your chair.

"hey Mark!" Pedro shouted, waving at a crew member "Have you seen Emma and Bella anywhere?"

"uh yeah, I think they were going to the trailers last I saw them"

"Thanks" he yelled in response, already walking out of the room with you following right behind.

"I think we should check Bella's and then yours"

"right" he nodded, following orders.

He knocked at the door, but no reply could be heard, which made your anxiety rise even more.

"Bella, you in here?" 

Again, silence on the other end.

You looked at each other, a mutual understanding traveling between you.

Pedro opened the door, but everything looked dark.

He slowly took a step in, looking around

"Bell-"he was about to call, but two shadowy figures emerged from right behind an open door.

"boo!" they shouted in unison, making Pedro take a step back as his heart threatened to stop.

what the fuck?

And just then, two distinguished laughs reverberated through the trailer as the lights switched on.

That's where they were.

Who knows how long they'd been waiting for you.

"you..." Pedro's eyes widened as his brain finally started working again.

"It was us, daddy!" Emma giggled, immediately joined by Bella, and shortly after... by you.

"y-yeah" he took in a breath, his hand going to his poor heart "Yeah I gathered that"

"did you get scared?" your daughter asked, still smiling widely as she walked over to Pedro.

"Yeah peach" he shot you a look of pure, actual terror, making you chuckle "You scared your daddy almost to death"

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 9 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: magical near-death experience, language, confrontation wc: 4.3k

Back in your rooms, you and Namjoon stand, each processing quietly and a bit lost in thought.

“You should try to get a little more sleep,” he finally suggests. “You need to be at your sharpest.”

You nod absently, but your mind is flying through everything you’d uncovered in the ritual.

“I need to write down what I found,” you say, but your eyes are closed and you feel yourself swaying a little. “Before I forget.”

“Sit down,” Namjoon instructs, moving to the table to find paper and a pen in the mess you’d left strewn there. “Tell me what you found and I’ll write it.”

You do as you’re told and then head to your room for a few hours to sleep, making sure to keep the lamp - which has been replaced already since your mishap this morning - lit as you do.

Not that light does anything to keep an Infracti away. But it helps your mind to not create monsters out of shadows.

You emerge hours later, a bit groggy but certainly steadier on your feet. Namjoon isn’t in the main rooms and his door is closed, so you leave him be.

You check the time - it’s late afternoon, the seconds ticking you closer to early evening - and settle onto a cushion near the papers you and Namjoon had been writing on.

You’re almost through writing a more organized document of what you’ve discerned since the beginning - the threads you’re absolutely certain of, the counters you think most likely to be fruitful - when Namjoon emerges from his room, eyes squinting against the light and one hand raking through messy bedhead.

“What time is it?” he mutters, making his way towards one of the couches.

You glance at the clock and realize that dinnertime has come and gone. “Late,” you say. “I forgot to eat. Are you hungry?”

You send for dinner and start to go over what you were working on while Namjoon slept.

“With the ritual done, I’m more confident that we’ve identified every thread,” you muse, eyes scanning the pages spread out before you. “So now it’s really a matter of finding the correct counters.”

“That’s a relief,” Namjoon says.

You run a finger down the page, looking for a note you’d made. “I was thinking about the end of life thing,” you tell him. “Weren’t you saying, back when we got here, that life and death magic can be used to weave other threads? Do you think the person who cast the curse used the end of life thread to… make it cleaner - simpler to cast?”

Namjoon doesn’t answer this right away, but keeps tapping his finger on the table, a sign that he’s thinking hard about this. 

“I don’t know,” he says finally, eyes still on the paper. “Definitely a possibility. So then, would they not have meant that they wanted him to die? Was that choice simply for casting purposes?”

It’s clear that Namjoon is simply thinking out loud, but you answer, “You’re the death magic expert. You tell me.”

He shakes his head. “There are dozens of other ways. It had to be deliberate.”

“Does it matter? In terms of the countercurse?”

He grimaces. “If they intended the end of life, we have to directly counter that. If it was chosen for casting only, we could work around it.”

He slides to the floor to sit opposite you, and you look together at the papers, and for a while you work like this - pointing at certain lines of text, jotting notes, crossing others out, drawing arrows connecting ideas - until the paper looks like a complete disaster. But it makes sense to the two of you, and that’s what matters.

You’re just about to wrap it up for the night when there’s a knock at the main door. Before you can rise, Satuel opens it and tells you, “The Prince would like a word.”

Prince Taehyung steps around her, and she retreats into the corridor, closing the door behind her. He looks drawn, troubled, but you’re struck - as usual - by his otherworldly beauty.

“I wanted to speak to the two of you,” he says quietly. He perches on the arm of the closest couch, long legs stretched out before him. “About what happened today.”

You and Namjoon exchange an uneasy look.

“My father sent a diplomatic team to the Scores,” he reports. “Their directive was to express that there was some sort of magical attack on the royal family, and to gauge the reaction. But it is not a direct accusation.”

You nod slowly, listening.

Prince Taehyung takes a deep breath and continues. “He also sent a team of spies,” he says carefully. “To see what they can uncover. The diplomats… their information may be useful, it may not. But if we are knocking on their front door to make inquiries, it will hopefully distract them from who is climbing through the window. So to speak.”

“Do you really think it was them?” you ask, hushed.

Prince Taehyung twists his mouth. “They do seem to be the most likely,” he admits. “But my personal feelings are more complicated. At any rate, I wanted to make sure you knew what was going on. An accusation was not made… but it would appear that they read it as one anyway. None of the families from the Scores attended our dinner tonight.”

You and Namjoon look at him in silence. You’re not sure you’re understanding - is it such a big deal that a few families didn’t show up for dinner?

“Invited guests haven’t just not shown without at least communicating in… my entire life, so over six hundred years,” Prince Taehyung clarifies.

“Oh,” you utter, feeling your stomach sink a little. “That’s… pretty bad, right?”

Suddenly the prince’s grim demeanor makes sense.

“It’s certainly a sign of trouble brewing,” the prince admits. “I wanted to let you know just… I don’t want you to be more frightened, and I promise you’re safe in these rooms… but you should know what’s going on.”

You take this in silently, glancing sideways at Namjoon. He looks just how you feel - nervous, on edge, but trying to keep a blank face in front of the prince.

“I’m sorry,” Prince Taehyung says emphatically, and you turn back to him. “I know you were already uneasy here. I don’t want to make it worse. But I felt very strongly that you should be kept informed.”

“No, I appreciate it,” you assure him. "We’ll be… even more careful. I guess this means no more trips to visit Potato?”

He smiles at this, a bit wryly. “I’m afraid not. At least for a few days. Let’s see how this shakes out. Maybe they’ll let tonight’s insult speak for itself, and we can all move on.”

“You don’t sound very optimistic about that possibility,” Namjoon remarks.

Prince Taehyung shrugs. “I wasn’t alive for any of the wars for power,” he admits. “But my parents, and those older than them - they remember. Thousands of years of bitter fighting, all for the throne.”

He sighs. “It was foolish of us, I’m sure, to think this peace would last - that one little pebble wouldn’t send the whole pile toppling. But it isn’t your problem. Where do we stand with the curse, after this morning’s ritual?”

You hurry to fill him in - that you’re feeling more confident that everything has been identified, and that your task now is to determine all the proper counters.

“How soon do you think you could make a reasonable attempt?” he asks, seeming to grasp without being told that the countercurses will come through trial and error.

You look down at your papers, as if they might provide an answer to this. It stings a little, that he’s hurrying you along. But you know how ridiculous it is for you to feel that way - of course he wants you to hurry. He wants the curse to end, he wants his life back, he wants to send you home to safety as tensions rise between the Infracti families.

“A day or two?” you guess finally.

Prince Taehyung nods. “Very well. I’ll be quite busy tomorrow, but I’ll make sure to check in.”

He wishes you both goodnight and departs through the main door, leaving you and Namjoon in tense silence.

“We do need to hurry,” he says quietly after a minute or two. “I have a feeling things are only going to get worse, here.”

“We can’t rush the process,” you argue, though at the heart of the issue you know you agree. “Sloppy magic equals death.”

“I’m not suggesting we do it sloppily,” Namjoon clarifies slowly, as if he is speaking a second language to you and needs to mentally translate each word first. And, in a way, that might be exactly what’s happening. “I’m not saying we have to be ready to go tomorrow. But things are becoming less safe, and that’s me saying that - not the team member who currently can’t sleep with the lights off.”

You feel your face heat. He’s right - of course he’s right. Things weren’t safe to begin with.

“I’m just saying that we need to keep trying to make forward progress,” he says seriously. “We can’t just spin our wheels.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, still embarrassed. “So… come on. Let’s figure out what we’ll try first.”

You settle back at the table, grabbing a pen, refusing to look up at Namjoon, who still watches you from where he’s standing. Eventually he joins you, and you work until near midnight, not stopping until you have three potential countercurses to try.

And then, when Namjoon disappears into his rooms, you slink into your own and practice defensive spells until you’re tired enough to curl up and try for sleep.

—

When you wake, late morning, you ask Satuel to inform the prince that you have countercurses you’re willing to try.

She comes back with your breakfast and news.

“The royal family will allow you to conduct an attempt at a countercurse in about an hour,” she tells you. “I’ll escort you when it’s time. They’re a bit wrapped up right now.”

You latch onto this, looking at her sharply. You don’t expect her to divulge anything, and you’re surprised when she glances over her shoulder and then lowers her voice as she sets down your breakfast tray.

“The Scores’ diplomatic team returned early this morning with a message,” she whispers. “Essentially, publicly objecting to any implication that they would, or did, orchestrate any kind of attack against the Runes.”

“Of course they object,” you say, reaching for the pot of coffee before she’s even placed the tray down. “Why would they admit it, even if it was them? They aren’t that stupid.”

“Maybe they are,” she mutters, voice even quieter. You strain to hear her. “They also made a public statement against the King.”

You sit back, coffee pot forgotten, looking at her with wide eyes. “They what?”

She nods, her own black eyes wide like yours. It seems this news has rattled her - something that’s shocking to see.

“What kind of statement?” you ask.

She glances towards the door again, and then smiles sheepishly when she notices you clocking this. “It isn’t a secret,” she explains. “I just don’t want to be misunderstood as gossiping. You are living here, for now. This affects you, too.”

She takes a deep breath and tells you, “The Scores, backed by the Cleaves and two other powerful families, have sent a joint statement accusing the crown of conspiracy, corruption, and the unlawful murder of humans.”

Your blood runs cold, and you press your palms to the tabletop to ground yourself. “Could… Do you think there’s truth to it?”

Satuel presses her lips together. “I am loyal to the crown,” she says, which is not an answer at all.

Or maybe it is.

You’re thinking, suddenly, of those videos your students had been watching back home, how they had been explaining a newsroom theory that there were orchestrated attacks happening.

You’re thinking of Prince Taehyung telling you his family had covered up his murders, wiped memories and erased entire lives from the world’s history.

You’re thinking that such accusations could not possibly be lightly made.

You’re thinking of Namjoon, back in Dr. Kim’s office on campus, saying the words Infracti Civil War.

Your skin crawls.

Satuel seems to understand.

“You’re safe as long as you’re in your rooms,” she promises. “As long as you’re with me, or Dansoo, or the prince - you’re safe.”

You note that she doesn’t list the King or Queen.

An hour later, you and Namjoon follow her through the palace, with Dansoo bringing up the rear. They take you back to the room where you’d tried the first cure, less than a week ago, when Prince Taehyung had been very nearly knocked out.

It feels different this time. You feel the weight of expectation as the King and Queen watch you impassively. You’re sure they’re remembering the last attempt - their son’s legs giving out, your own meager attempts to explain why it hadn’t been a complete failure.

That’s fine - you don’t care if they trust you. You don’t trust them - you barely did to begin with, and that sliver has only gotten smaller and smaller in the time you’ve been here.

The last time you’d tried a countercurse, you’d known that the chances were very slim that it would work - the best you’d been hoping for had been more information.

This time, it could work. It could.

Prince Taehyung faces you, frowning slightly.

“It won’t hurt you this time,” you promise him quietly, and a corner of his mouth quirks, amused at being read correctly.

Do you trust him? The question pops into your head unbidden.

You flatten your hands over the paper in front of you, scanning the list of incantations meant to call forth his magic, his healing, his life and twist them into a weapon. You double-check that each thread is accounted for. You repeat the trickier phrases, letting your tongue get accustomed to them.

You watch the prince shift nervously, still frowning slightly, his hands defensively shoved into his pockets. When he notices you still watching him, he gives a tiny, sheepish smile, something almost shy in it.

Yeah, you think. Maybe it will be your undoing, maybe it will be your downfall. But you do.

You wish you could talk to him before this - alone, without the audience of his parents and Namjoon. You want to ask him about the Scores, you want to reassure him that he’s going to be okay.

“Are you ready, Maiesti?” you ask gently, doing your best to pretend it’s only you and him.

He licks his lips nervously and nods, stepping closer.

You glance at Namjoon, suddenly nervous, and he gives you a reassuring nod. You ignore the King and Queen, wishing they weren’t there at all.

“Okay,” you whisper, holding up a hand. Taehyung presses his palm to yours, cool and solid. “Okay, let’s go.”

You begin the series of spells a bit unsteadily, your voice small and nervous. But it takes less than two minutes for your magic to rise up, filling you with warmth and purpose and confidence. You continue, emboldened.

You feel your magic touch Taehyung’s, a bit hesitantly at first, and then entwining itself easily and happily, as if they fit perfectly together and only needed to settle in.

You continue chanting, eyes scanning the words slowly so you don’t mess up. You can feel it working, can feel the curse resisting - but your choices seem to be correct, and you can feel the curse unraveling, weakening, thread by thread as the countercurse peels them away.

You feel a thrill within you as you recognize success, and you struggle to remain calm, lest you slip on a word and let it all go to waste. Taehyung’s hand twitches against yours, and you wonder if he can feel it too - the curse loosening its grip, bit by bit. You want to watch his face, want to watch him realize it, want to see him the second he’s set free.

You want to smile at him, victorious, proud, so happy to give him what he needs.

You cannot take your eyes off the paper. You cannot miss a syllable.

Something tugs low in your stomach, and the thrill vanishes faster than light. You continue speaking, following the words on the page, but you feel your eyes widen.

The tug comes again.

The curse is fighting back. The unraveling you could feel suddenly feels stuck, snagged. Something isn’t right. Something isn’t right.

You’ve made a mistake, you’ve missed something.

You hear your voice catch and freeze as your limbs go rigid. The curse crawls into your magic, digs its claws in. You cry out in pain, eyes squeezing shut.

You think you hear someone call your name - you can’t tell. You’re trying to unravel your magic from Taehyung’s, to get distance between yourself and the curse, to wiggle free from those claws of ill-intent.

You can’t seem to. You can feel it taking over and you try to force your eyes open, to ask for help, but you can’t see anymore - the room is black, and all you hear now is the roar of static in your ears.

You feel the room shift, a pain in your shoulder. You may have fallen - you can’t see so you can’t be sure. You gasp for breath, but you’re finding it harder. You’re not sure it’s working, you can’t tell if you’re inhaling, you can’t feel the exhale.

Then, the pain stops, the panic stops, the static goes quiet.

You can’t feel anything anymore, good nor bad.

All you can hear is crashing ocean waves, the wild whinnies of amarisca as they gallop into the sea.

—

Taehyung sits at your bedside - the side of his bed, technically - your fragile, mortal hand in his.

Mostly, you seem to be sleeping peacefully, and Taehyung tries to have faith in his own healing abilities, in Namjoon’s promises that he’d severed the magical connection in time. But every now and then your body shudders, as if working hard to expel a poison, and it makes Taehyung’s chest clench every time. He hunches over, smoothing back your hair, listening to your heart thump faster and then quiet again as your body stills.

All he can do is listen to your heart.

–

It was a year ago, when he’d found everything out. He’d been nauseous, damn near dizzy from the knowledge: his own father, orchestrating attacks on the human world. Covering the tracks. Framing other families.

How many innocent lives had he allowed to be lost? Knowingly - purposely?

The better question was why. And Taehyung hated unanswered questions.

He’d found his father in his wing, luckily alone.

King Sunjae had raised his brows, surprised to see his son, unannounced.

“What brings you here?” he’d asked.

Taehyung had felt hollow, heavy. This truth was too terrible to bear. He didn’t want to lay this accusation at his father’s feet. He didn’t want to argue against denials. He didn’t want to demand answers, reasons.

He wanted to be able to turn back time, to never let this happen at all. He wanted to sleep comfortably at night knowing his own negligence wasn’t to blame, that his inattention hadn’t let this come to pass without his knowledge, for who knows how long.

He couldn’t make himself speak, couldn’t force the words off of his tongue. In the time he was silent, the King seemed to piece it together, his expression darkening.

“Don’t make trouble, Taehyung,” he’d warned.

Taehyung had closed his eyes, shook his head. He’d wondered if ghosts were real, if his father could be haunted by the humans he had lowered into prey.

“I want to know the reason,” he’d finally said, his voice effectless.

His father had seemed thrown off that Taehyung had bygone any actual accusation. It wasn’t necessary, Taehyung thought. They both knew what they knew.

The King laughed once, sardonically. “You’ve always been innocent,” he’d scoffed. “That’s why I never involved you in this. Go back to your rooms, Taehyung, go back to playing piano and riding amarisca and whatever else it is you concern yourself with. I’ll handle the matters of state, as I always have.”

Taehyung swallowed against the assaulting words, the weight of their truth. He shook his head. “I need to know the reason.”

The King was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he turned away from his son, pacing closer to the window, which overlooked much of the valley below.

“For us,” he’d answered, and Taehyung had stared at his back, trying desperately to understand. “For the throne.”

“That’s bullshit,” Taehyung had said, nearly gagging over the word, stomach twisting with disgust and regret and horror and devastation. “Our power is not in danger. Our throne is not in danger.”

“You’re naive. It’s not your fault - you’re young. You weren’t alive for the wars - thousands of years of war, Taehyung, the crown bouncing from Cleave, to Score, to Rune, around and around - but I was. They were bloody, they were unending. Humans died for our wars as much as Infracti. The throne is always in danger, my son. It will always be in danger.”

“How can you think that?” Taehyung demanded hotly. “The law is written entirely in our favor - the crown stays in our bloodline. There’s no wiggle room, there’s no loophole. And our bloodline is fine.”

“Is it?” the King retorted. “After me, the crown is yours. Then, what? You’re over six hundred years old, Taehyung, and you’ve never brought forth a serious consideration for your queen.”

“Is that what this is about?” Taehyung had cried, even more aghast than he’d started. “I’ll marry - is that what you want? I’ll marry tomorrow if it means you’ll stop.”

The King had scoffed again, finally turning to face him, his expression radiating disappointment. Well, Taehyung was no stranger to that - not after six hundred years. “You aren’t serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” Taehyung had said, and meant every word. He’d beg if he had to beg, he’d cheat if he had to cheat, he’d marry if he had to marry - anything to stop his father. “It has to stop. This can’t be what we stand for. You can end it, or I will end it - and I don’t care how that happens.”

“Quit talking nonsense,” the King had snapped, eyes narrowed.

“I mean every word,” Taehyung had said, his undead heart galloping in his chest. “Our people were once only animals. Time and time again through history we have wavered, flirting with becoming simply the animal again. You want to secure the Runes’ hold on the throne? I want to secure the Runes’ humanity. If you need me to marry, I’ll marry. You have to stop this. Swear it.”

The King had looked at him for a long time, appraising, evaluating. Finally, very seriously he said, “If you’ll start looking for a wife - seriously looking - then I’ll put a stop to it today. But I have to see you trying.”

Taehyung had spent the next year courting the girls his father picked out. He’d meant his promise, but none of them touched him, none of them spoke to his soul.

Then you had shown up - braver than anyone he’d ever meant, so powerful it was scary, humble, and mouthy, and foolish, and alive - and when his father had suggested he keep you around… he hadn’t hated the idea.

He could see you as queen. He could see you by his side.

He just had to keep you alive long enough to see how you’d feel about the idea.

It was proving to be harder than he’d thought.

—

You come back bit by bit.

You can feel again first. Your shoulder throbs, and your head is splitting. You feel unbearable thirst, like you haven’t had water in days.

You feel someone’s hand clutching yours, feel their grasp tighten when you wiggle your fingers in theirs.

Then, you can hear again - the ocean waves are still breaking, distantly. The murmur of low, familiar voices. You hear someone say your name, deep and sweet, like your own little song.

Then, not much later, your sight returns - blurry, coming into focus as you blink against the sudden brightness.

At first, all you can see is purple sky. You turn your head to see your hand resting on top of the heavy comforter.

It occurs to you that this is not your bed. It is large, comfortable, facing a wall of windows - this is how you could see so much sky.

The hand holding yours retreats, and you follow the movement as you flex your now-empty fingers.

Prince Taehyung peers at you, face drawn. There is no one else in the room with you.

For a moment, just for a second, you feel like you are looking at each other simply person to person - your roles, your duties, your prejudices, your wants and needs, your fears… all the things that you each carry every time you spend time together, they seem to be held at bay. Just for now.

“Is it true?” you ask him. You’re not sure why this is the question you ask. “Is any of it true?”

His eyes - humanlike, as always, although it is a lie - stay on yours as he slowly nods. “Yes,” he whispers. “But don’t worry. I’ve been trying to fix it since before you came. I’m going to make it better.”

You’d said almost the same words to him, about his curse.

He takes your hand again, and you inhale sharply.

He lets out a huff of a quiet laugh. “I really thought we’d lost you,” he murmurs. Then, he brings your hand to his mouth and presses his lips gently to the back of your hand.

For one terrifying, lightning-quick second, you thought he was going to bite you.

This is your last thought before things go dark once again.

<;- Prev | Next ->

thanks so much for reading!!! the next few chapters are among my faves :') looking forward to posting!

[kingsnake101]

For the WIP game, Goth Four has me intrigued :))

SO this one begins with Time, Sky, Legend, and Wind getting captured by dark link. This is another one that I think can mostly speak for itself, so I'm gonna put what I have under the cut. Also I've never played any of Legend's games so I kinda just made up a magic item :/ sorry diehard legend fans

“Maybe if you pace long enough, it'll wear a hole through the floor and we can escape,” Wind commented, receiving a sharp glare from Legend.

Wind was leaning against Sky, who fiddled with his tunic anxiously. Time sat cross-legged on the other side of the cell, face creased in thought. Legend, meanwhile, resumed his pacing.

The walls were dark and cold, the smell of old stone bricks and dark magic permeated the space. It was humiliating, really, that they were captured so easily. It looked like any other shadow portal, why would he have assumed it would teleport them to some creepy dungeon?

Wind looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted by a cool wind breezing through the cell.

“The hell…” Legend thought to himself, stopping to stare at the small magical tornado that had begun to form on the other side of the bars. It reeked of dark magic.

That seemed to snap Time out of his trance, the older hero rising to his feet and glaring at the disturbance. Legend shivered. He had seen a lot of things in his time, but damn if that wasn't a terrifying look.

The wind picked up, yanking his hair as it swirled around the small room. If Legend squinted, he thought he could see a small figure within the whirlwind.

Shiny black boots emerged from the storm, steps tapping gracefully on the stone floor. A silhouette appeared, form whipping around with the wind. Finally, the figure stepped forwards, backlit by the only light in the room, a single candle behind them. They looked… oddly familiar.

And then, with a snap of their fingers, the wind halted and torches flared to life. There, finally illuminated, stood a goth copy of their smith. His skin was an ashy gray, red eyes framed by dark purple hair. His tunic was similar to Four’s, if Four had an emo phase and dyed everything black. Dark, glittery eyeshadow shone on his face, pairing nicely with lipstick so black it seemed to absorb light. He stood in a dramatic pose with his back straight, not a single hair or thread out of place. A sly grin pulled at his face.

“Greetings, heroes,” dark-Four sneered, leaning forward into a mocking bow. “It’s a pleasure,” he purred, a black forked tongue flicking past sharp teeth as he spoke.

“What do you want with us?” Legend spat, sneering as he stepped up to the bars.

“Well, it wouldn't be any fun if I just told you, now would it?” Dark-Four grinned, a black claw tapping at his chin thoughtfully. A silver ring was wrapped around his finger, a delicate chain connecting it to a matching wristband. Legend swore that it wasn't there earlier. “No, I think I'll leave you guessing. I'm just here to have some fun before Dark Link rips you to shreds,” the grin widened, all the more sinister. Legend swore he could feel Time’s protective, angry aura increase. He didn't miss how the dark refused to look at their oldest member.

Legend heard shuffling behind him, and looked over to see Sky walking up to the bars. A tremor ran down Legend's spine. The skylian’s gentle features contorted into something sharp, something dangerous.

“I suppose they call him ‘godkiller’ for a reason,” Legend assumed, almost feeling guilty for the dark on the other end of that glare. Almost.

A flicker of fear and uncertainty flashed across Dark-Four’s face, before he steeled it back into a lopsided grin. Before Sky could open his mouth to speak, the dark cut him off.

“Don't worry, the prick upstairs specifically told me not to lay a finger on you,” The dark clarified, rolling his eyes. “What he didn't mention, however, were your things.”

Legend's scowl deepened. If that asshole even thought about touching his stuff he would-

Legend's worst fears were confirmed when his own pack rose up through a puddle of dark magic on the floor. The shadow saw his reaction and grinned.

“Ooh, sorry, does this bother you, Pinky?” He mocked, carefully flipping open Legend's bag and peered inside.

“I swear to Hylia, if you even think-” Legend's rant was cut off by some sort of dark magic gag slapping onto his face. He growled in frustration, which only seemed to make the dark smile more.

“If any more of you have any words to say on the subject, I have plenty more,” he warned, dark magic swirling around his fingertips. 

Wind, unfortunately, seemed to take this as a challenge rather than a threat. “You bet I do, you slimy bottom feeder son of a-” Wind half grinned, half sneered, before a similar gag slapped onto his face.

“Anyhow, let's see what the so-called ‘Hero of Legend’ has in here~” the dark drawled, rooting through Legend's bag. Legend cursed at him through the gag. He ignored him.

The dark pulled out a familiar wooden box, shaking it slightly to hear metal bouncing against itself. The box was opened, and his eyes widened in glee. Legend cursed his luck. Out of all the things he could have grabbed, why did it have to be the box full of magic rings?

The dark began carefully picking through the rings, lifting a few up for inspection. He lifted up a particularly gaudy one, before looking Legend in the eye and grinning. Legend recognized that ring. It was one he rarely used, due to its headache-causing abilities and moral implications.

“I must say that I am impressed, Hero of Legend,” the dark smirked at him, holding the ring of mind reading in one hand and the box of rings in the other. “I really thought the most experienced savior of Hyrule would have better fashion taste.”

And if that didn't catch legend off guard.

“These are hideous! Why would you ever carry these around! Half of these clash, and the other half are eyesores,” he scoffed, holding the ring of mind reading like it personally offended him.

“Wait, can he not sense the magic? How?” Legend gawked internally, although he kept his face a mask of anger.

“Here, you can have this one. My eyes can only take so much,” he complained, dramatically shielding his eyes before flicking the ring into the cell. Legend practically dove to catch it. How a reflection of Four could be so stupid, he had no idea. Legend slipped it on.

A swarm of thoughts rushed over him, and Legend internally grimaced. Wind was still spewing some awfully creative insults, Sky was angry and worried, and somehow, the old man was just as unreadable as before.

Legend took a deep breath, focusing on the individual in front of him. He leaned away from the angry thoughts of his comrades and towards the smug cadence of Four’s doppelganger.

“Poor fools. They'll never find the exit, I can barely find it even though I know that it's behind a false wall at the end of the hallway. And even then, they'll never get past the guards watching their stuff. Sure, they tend to fall asleep after dinner at around 8 o’ clock, but the heroes don't know that. They also have no idea that Dark Link and I are constantly doing patrols, except for tonight because Dark is going to look for the other heroes and I'm leaving so I can have a spa day. I bet they don't even know that my Link likes to secretly sew lockpicks into his friend’s clothes. Fools. They'll never escape. Muahahahahahahahaha-”

Legend discreetly slid the ring off his finger. He was already getting a headache, and the maniacal laughter was like a stake being driven into his skull. Besides, he has already gotten plenty of information.

“Well, it seems our time must come to an end. It was an honor to meet you, truly. Hopefully I get to see you again before Dark rips you apart,” he sneered, bowing again. “I bid you adieu,” with one last dramatic twirl, he sunk into the shadows once more.

As soon as the shadow was gone, Legend turned his attention to Wind. “What? What's that look for?” Wind questioned, scooching away from Legend. It seems the gag had disappeared when the shadow did.

“Give me your tunic,” Legend demanded, holding out his hand.

Wind curled back, clutching his hand protectively to his chest. “No way! Ayrll gave this to me!” Wind huffed, scooting back.

Sky leaned forward, trying to seperate the two heroes somewhat. “Do you want mine?” he offered.

Legend nodded, scooting over to Sky. He ran his fingers along the hem, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Sky eyed him with confusion, but didn't comment. He found what he was looking for in the seam, right before the hem of the shirt. It seemed like a small piece of fabric had been added, with a wide stitch that could easily tear away with the help of the lockpicks inside. Legend made quick work of it.

“Wait, what? How did you know that was there?” Wind questioned, leaning forward. Sky picked at his tunic with confusion.

Legend stood up, wincing when his joints protested. He brushed himself off before making his way to the cell door. “I remembered that the smithy likes to hide lockpicks in our clothes,” Legend explained as he fiddled with the lock. He decided not to mention the whole mind-reading thing. Maybe another day. The door swung open with a soft click.

[skz-sarang]

. . . ♡ you can’t help but become the sun ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪Lovey’s relationship with stray kids! ❫ ୧ ⊹

.⋆｡˚⋆☆ Hyung line edition ☆⋆˚｡⋆.

࣪warnings! mention of ED , anxiety

word count! 300+ each

a/n! popularity percentages all above 85%

BANG CHAN + KIM SARANG

CHARANG

popularity : 95 %

⸻ Chan was the very first member to know and meet Lovey; after all, she is at JYP thanks to him. The first thing that struck Bangchan about Sarang was her talent – a voice unlike any he had heard before, sweet, gentle, enchanting, and mesmerizing like the songs of sirens. The second thing that struck him was her eyes – so big and deep, filled with pain, fear, and uncertainties. Too many negative emotions for a young girl like Sarang. Chan took Lovey 'under his wing,' giving her the strength to dream, providing a launching pad through Stray Kids. Chan and Sarang share an unparalleled bond; he saw her at her lowest and brought her back to shine. She sees him as her savior, that glimmer of light in a dark room. He's always there, ready to protect her, shielding her from the world. Chan would give up a kidney for her. The bond between Chan and Lovey is like an invisible thread keeping them connected. Every smile from her is confirmation of the positive change Chan brought into her life. In their relationship, Chan is more than a friend; he's a confidant, a mentor, and a guardian angel. She trusts him completely and knows that he will always have her back, no matter what. Lovey's strength has become his inspiration, and every success of hers is a shared victory. They tend to be very clingy since they are both affectionate. They often spend time together, especially in the studio, as Sarang doesn't want to leave Chan alone to work, and he doesn't want her to go home alone late at night. Sarang always ends up falling asleep watching him work.

fans favorite moment : During an interview, Sarang was asked about her emergency contacts. She took out her phone, a big smile on her face, and showed the two contacts: Jihoon, her brother, and Bangchan. Her explanation was, "I chose these two simply because Jihoon is my family, while Channie - oppa is the person I trust the most." After hearing this, Chan, who was unaware, widened his eyes and immediately stood up from his stool, going near Sarang and engulfing her in a huge hug: "I luv you, bubbles, you're what I hold most dear"

Charang things :

Holding hands while crossing the street and/or in crowded places like airports.

Chan’s goodnight forehead kiss

late night drive

watching marvel movies together

making playlists for each other

LEE MINHO + KIM SARANG

MINRANG

popularity : 96 %

⸻ when lovey and leeknow first met, they didn't immediately hit it off. not because they didn't like one another, but because they're both super introverts that have a hard time talking to new people. especially because lovey was the only girl so he was like wtf??? and minho as an attitude , so sarang was a bit scared of him. but jisung forced them to talk to each other and they were like “oh maybe they're not so scary. ” after that they started becoming really good friends, and really enjoyed one another's company. they could always tell each other just about anything, and not have to worry about judgment. Now, their relationship consists of Minho making fun of sarang embarrassing or flattering her, flirting with her, even in front of the cameras. If you need someone to make her a blushing mess, simply call Lee Know. He loves to tease her, is his favorite thing since he discovered that she gets flustered easily. He loves watching her pink shades cheeks. She lets him do that only because they're pretty close. Minho is quite of a character, usually isn't lovely dovely, especially in front of cams or stays, but has a soft spot for her; out of all them members he's probably the member who looks after her the most. Since he learned about her problem with food, he has always taken care of her, making sure she didn’t skip meals and teaching her how to cook.

fans favorite moment : During “mysterious kitchen” lovey was peeling carrots, but he had some difficulty, and had a pair of cutting himself. Lee know approached her and put his head on the shoulder of the shorter girl. “Don’t you know how to shave carrots?” He asked giggling. Lovey replied with a laugh, shaking her head. Then he stood behind her, hugging her and took knife and carrot from her hands, showing her how to do it. The scene is depopulated sh twitter and tiktok with fans crazy for their closeness and connection.

Minrang’s things :

always there to help sarang calm down when she’s in the middle of an anxiety attack

back-hug while cooking

matching phone cases

tickling her only to hear her laugh

Cat-cuddling dates, whether with soongie doogie dori or snoflake and gingerbread

SEO CHANGBIN + KIM SARANG

SANGBIN

popularity : 87 %

⸻ Changbin has a daddy-like behavior towards her, he always has a hand on her at airports, or puts his jacket on her lap for cover her when she wears skirts or dresses; he just in general keeps an eye out for her. He is like a protective shield, watching out for her and making sure she is safe and happy. He’s also the most likely to voice a concern if he thinks her concept is too sexy, because he honestly treats her like his baby. It’s also not uncommon to find these two up in the late hours having in depth conversations. Whether it’s something they’re laughing about or if it’s a deep and serious conversation. They’re kinda big on communication, especially since Sarang has such a hard time opening up to others. Changbin always encourages her to say what’s on her mind, but he’s never forceful about it. He just likes to let her know that she can say what’s on her mind, and he’ll always be there to listen. Their connection goes beyond the public eye, as Changbin values the depth of their friendship and ensures that Sarang feels secure within the group dynamics. The genuine and caring nature of their relationship adds a heartwarming dimension to their interactions within the group. Despite Changbin's dedication to working out, Sarang, not particularly interested in fitness, joins him during his exercise routines. It's not about the activity itself for her; rather, it's a gesture of companionship. Changbin appreciates her willingness to be by his side, turning their workout sessions into lighthearted moments filled with laughter and encouragement.

fans favorite moment : During The filming of a skz-talk in the promotions of “ Maniac ” ,Changbin noticed Sarang wincing as they walked backstage after the energetic Music Bank stage. He glanced down at her feet and couldn't help but empathize with the discomfort she must be feeling in those high heels. "Hey sweetie , I can see those heels are killing you. Why don't you take a break and let me carry you or something?" Sarang chuckled, appreciating Changbin's concern but refusing to be a burden. "No, it's fine. I'll survive." Changbin, however, was having none of it. He bent down, swiftly removing his sneakers. "Come on, I'd rather see you walking comfortably. Here, take these. I don't mind going barefoot." Sarang stared at him in surprise, then gratefully accepted the shoes, feeling an unexpected warmth in her heart. “Thanks, Oppa. You're a lifesaver." Changbin just shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. "Anything for your comfort, Bubbles. Let's get you feeling better."

Sangbin’s things :

Changbin giving lovey is jacket whenever is cold

trying to get her to workout without results

shooting finger hearts at him from a distance.

messing with her hair

her personal bodyguard

HWANG HYUNJIN + KIM SARANG

SANJIN

popularity : 91 %

⸻ lovey and Hyunjin share a high-energy bond. They bring out each other's playful sides and have a natural chemistry on and off stage. They are partners in crime. Hyunjin likes to joke around with the members but not with her; he prefers having her as his accomplice. He loves her style, and she really looks up to him as an artist. He knows she has low self-esteem, so he's always cheering for her, Hyunjin is her n1 Fan. And god save anyone who criticizes her, because he will be ready to fight. They’re also big goofballs, and can often be seen doing dramatic skits during their variety shows and just being ridiculous. Sarang and Hyunjin share a dynamic where their friendship blossoms into a creative synergy. Hyunjin, known for his playful interactions, discovers in Sarang not just a companion but a muse for collaborative ideas. Their joint goofiness spills over into impromptu moments of laughter, creating a unique and endearing atmosphere within the group. Hyunjin's protective instincts kick in as he becomes a vocal advocate for lovey, showcasing a fierce loyalty that solidifies their bond as not just friends, but partners in both mischief and creativity. Lovey and Hyunjin often find solace in creative endeavors, particularly in painting together. In these artistic moments, Hyunjin takes on the role of a patient teacher, sharing his knowledge and techniques with Sarang. Their painting sessions become a canvas for shared laughter, learning, and the beautiful fusion of their individual styles. Through this artistic collaboration, lovey not only hones her skills but also deepens their connection, creating a masterpiece of friendship and shared passion.

fans favorite moment : During an exclusive music show performance by JYP, there's a humorous moment when Sarang whispers something in Hyunjin's ear. Both burst into uncontrollable laughter, but as soon as they realize they're on camera, they quickly hide, trying to mask their amusement. Fans suspect they might have been teasing the PDnim.

Sanjin’s things :

gossiping at award shows together

hyunjjn using lovey for an “arm rest”

painting together

dancing v-lives

pinky promises

©2023 , skz-sarang masterlist

!TAGLIST! : @smh-anon (send an ask to be added to the taglist!)

[barksenji]

I posted this on reddit, but I've seen some gnarly posts about Venezuela here, so I'll post it here too.

"I'll try to answer all of them. I don't know if I can explain like you're 5 because I'm autistic af and English is not my first language, but I hope I can make myself understood.

I condemn practically everything about the government. In Venezuela, on average, only four out of 10 operating rooms in the country's main hospitals are operative, and the shortage of supplies in emergency rooms is around 37%, while in operating rooms it reaches 74%. As for my own experience, I have Classical Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, I had a shoulder subluxation and I still do, and I went to the Victorino Santaella hospital in my country, there's little personnel, to the point that in the area for traumatology you could see dry blood on the floor because there just wasn't enough people to clean it up. Not a little bit of blood, but a lot. If you want decent medical attention, you will have to pay a bunch of money.

I had a strangulated umbilical hernia, which again, is something that commonly happens with the EDS. My dad had to spend 4000$ dollars on the operation, which for us, is a unachievable amount of money. He had to sell his car, and beg his job for the rest of the money, because the car was old asf and only covered about 200$.

Many people say the government is progressive, it is not. In Venezuela the LGBTQ community has absolutely no rights, it's incredibly difficult for trans people to change their documents or access hormonal treatment. Abortion is not legal here, not even in rape cases, gay marriage isn't legal either, and domestic violence largely goes unpunished.

The minimum wage is around 3 dollars, my dad works in transit so he earns minimum wage, because I have so many medical emergencies he has to make illegal driving licenses in order for me to get treatment. It is incredibly hard for my mom to find a job.

If you want an overview of the whole political situation, this thread can explain it better than I can:

This also explains many of the faults with the government, really, there are too many, I can't count them all.

There’s also no freedom of speech in Venezuela due to Nicolas Maduro’s oppression. All the news channels that are available are on his side. CNNE was removed from Venezuela after doing a documentary on Maduro and also was DW. Our only way to inform ourselves are socials, and most venezuelans are speaking through there.

Maduro's government is not a socialist government anymore, it paints itself that way to outsiders, but it is not. Money that should be going to public institutions is not going to those institutions, hence why the hospitals are in such dire state and you have to pay for private clinics in order to get appropriate care. I don't know if you're familiar with the CLAP bags, The Local Supply and Production Committees (CLAP) is a distribution program of some basic imported foodstuffs promoted by the Venezuelan government since 2016 in which the communities themselves organized in committees supply and distribute priority foods through a modality of delivery of products, house by house at first, later distributed in a local of the community. The problem with these is that they're frequently infected with weevils, maggots, and even if they look "good" on the outside, they can be infected with bacteria and give you food poisoning. Worse is, some people are entirely reliant on these.

They're supposed to protect our indigenous people, but a Venezuelan indigenous leader who opposed the incursion of armed groups and illegal mining was shot twice while in a neighborhood in the capital of Amazonas state. Maduro is also the richest man in Venezuela.

In the protests that occurred in 2017, around 150 people died thanks to the armed forces and colectivos (paramilitaries on the side of the government), police came out with tanks (idk the name exactly in English) and ran over people who were peacefully protesting. Right now, I believe there has been 11 people confirmed injured, though there's probably more, since hospitals are asking for resources to treat the injured.

I think most of these payment methods are only available in Venezuela, but I saw a Paypal here and there, if you can help I'd thank you so much:

As for the self-sufficiency, I don't know. As I said, I'm 17 and heavily reliant on my parents. This country's also really not accessible for disabled people, I cannot go down stairs and have to walk with a cane, there's rarely a place where elevators are functioning properly: ironically, especially in hospitals. In the hospital Victorino Santaella, my dad has to carry me through a bunch of stairs, he has a bunch of hernias in his back so that's obviously no good for him. I'm also at heavy risk of fainting, so yeah.

Also: I don't know how the housing situation is in Venezuela statistic-wise, but for the young adults, is impossible to get a house. Houses can cost up to 100.000$ and more, the average job will pay enough for you to eat, buy toilet paper, basic needs and that's about it.

My friends, who were studying university, couldn't finish cause they had to get a job in a supermarket or bakery in order to be able to support their parent economically. It's horrible.

We also have no running water, when we do it's brown, our power goes off all the time and I have no health insurance"

Do I support María Corina? Or the opposition? I'm skeptical about them, they're still politicians, and Machado is a Zionist. I'm worried about idolizing these figures, deeply. But there's no alternative guys.

For gringos saying that we are supporting fascists, and whatnot. We have literally no other option. This didn't start with US sanctions, it just got WORSE with them. But these sanctions are a symptom, not the root of our problem.

Please, listen to venezuelan voices. If you're really a leftist, just a bit of research will be enough to convince you that this is NOT even a socialist government anymore.

[farfromstrange]

Lizzi's Kinktober 2023

Day 15: Mask Kink

October 30th, 2023

Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt really loves to eat you out.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (18+ MINORS DNI), black suit Matt supremacy, Dom!Matt, mask kink, unprotected p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, slight spanking, bondage (use of ropes), use of "good girl", praise, not proofread

Word Count: ~2.5k

A/n: This is dedicated to @sunaspotato because her mask kink made my mask kink worse. And since she’s on this hellsite too now and wanted to read this, here you go. (Also, I hope you can still look me in the eyes after this. If not, I sincerely apologize. It’s different when one of the people reading this is someone I know irl so I hope I didn’t disappoint with this.)

The air coming in through the half-open bedroom window brushes coldly against your heated skin. 

You never thought you would end up in this position. So… vulnerable. Hunted like prey. It was never your intention. And yet, here you are now. Your wrists are tied to the bedpost with a harsh, greyish rope that isn’t yours, your sheer nightgown torn to shreds and discarded somewhere in the room. 

You’re helpless. Hopeless, also. Your friends have told you time and time again that you trust too easily, and maybe that is true. You can be colorblind to the existence of red flags. When you look danger in the eyes, you tend to gravitate toward it and not away, which has put you in trouble more times than you can count. You have shit judgment, to say the least, so it should come as no surprise that you are in this position. 

He has walked you home before. A few nights ago, a man tried to mug you after you missed the last bus of the night on your way home from work, and even though you cooperated, you had a bad feeling you weren’t going to make it out of this alive. He was about to steal all the money you had left in your purse, your phone, and everything else dear to you. 

Out of nowhere though, a dark figure emerged. He wore a mask made out of some sort of used fabric, a little white peeking through where it kept his eyes hidden from the world. His lips caught your attention right away. They were curled up into a smirk. He looked as if he had no emotions left in him, he only saw red where you saw none, and he beat the man trying to steal from you to a bloody pulp right at your feet. 

You should have been terrified, but the fear turned into a quick thrill, and it made you more careless than it made you careful. 

“You shouldn’t be out here on your own,” he said to you. 

Foolish of him to think he could tell you what to do, but he was right. He shouldn’t have been out there on your own. 

Next thing you knew, he offered to walk you home. Him on the rooftops of the city, you below. And you felt safer. You agreed; you talked to him, and you let the danger right into your life. 

From the second you first laid your wide eyes on the stranger, there has been something so forbiddingly arousing about the image in your head. His plump lips, his tongue, his sharp jawline, and the chiseled chest that he keeps hidden away underneath a tight, black shirt. Not to mention his thighs and the ass he is definitely not hiding in those pants.

It is so arousing, you have not uttered a word about it to anyone. If you told anyone the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen saved your life and belongings a few nights ago and has walked you home from work every night since then, they would surely call you crazy. Perhaps you are, but you have no shame about it. You are ashamed that he does something to your neglected soul, something a stranger in a mask should not do, but you are not ashamed that you haven’t told him off. Maybe you should be, but you can’t possibly find an ounce in your that cares. 

Even though it wasn’t planned and it took you off guard, you let him in when he knocked on your windows tonight, begging you to stitch him up. His panting and the way he groaned whenever the needle threaded through his skin didn’t help with this strange attraction you have been harboring. 

He noticed. You’re not sure how, but he noticed that you were getting turned on by his presence, and it was only a question of time until he would snap. In the end, he did about half an hour into your putting bandages on his battle scars. 

Now you’re tied to the bed, naked and vulnerable to the man in the mask at the foot of your bed, but your heart is not beating out of your chest out of fear. It’s the pulse between your legs that is the most prominent, and the danger only sends the pleasure you’re experiencing to new pinnacles. 

He isn’t going to show you his face, he told you as much. Lucky for you, you do not want or need him to. The thought of getting fucked by a man you have no idea what he looks like is as arousing as it is exciting. The mask on his face only enhances the feeling of being completely exposed to the prying eyes of danger, and you don’t want to miss this feeling again for the world. If that makes you perverted or mentally deranged, you don’t have a problem with that. You’ve been told that your delusions will be the death of you one day, so maybe it’s time to live your truth. 

The man paces around your bed. Eventually, he opens those plump lips again. He asks, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“What I’m doing to you?” you question, your voice barely above a broken whisper. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

“You’re supposed to be scared of me.”

You want to sit up, but the ropes keep you locked in place. 

“You were supposed to run away,” he says. “But you didn’t.”

“I don’t scare easily,” you tell him. 

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Why he sounds so bitter all of a sudden, you’re not sure. 

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m not scared of you,” you say, a lot surer this time. 

The stranger bares his teeth for a moment, then closes his mouth again. God, those lips. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and somehow you already miss him. 

“I can smell you, you know. I can smell how fucking wet you are for me. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to control myself when you’re so wet?” he says. It’s a rhetorical question. “You want me to fuck you so badly, and you don’t even know me.”

You blush beet red. You’re not sure how he can smell that you’re wet, even with your thighs clenched so tightly together. There are a lot of things you ask yourself, and for a second you wonder if you made a mistake, but if he knows that you are desperate to be touched by him, there is no chance in hell you will be able to lie your way out of this. 

You want this. You want him. And there is no denying the obvious; he wants you, too. 

His cock is straining against his pants. He is packed, you can tell. You wish you could see him, even just a small glimpse of skin, but he keeps himself hidden away. That’s how it’s going to be. He’s not going to give himself away, and you’re not going to protest, no matter how wrong this may be. 

You want him to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you. There is only one way this is going to end.

The bed creaks. His gloved hand meets your bare thigh, and you shudder. Your mouth falls open. The rough texture hiding his fingertips rubs against the sensitive hairs on your body. It makes your toes curl. 

“Don’t move away from me,” his mouth is suddenly so close to your ear. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you choke out. He has a chokehold on your lungs and the oxygen that is supposed to pass through them. 

His teeth show when he chuckles this time. It’s a breathless chuckle that sends even more shivers down your spine until you can’t feel anything but him. His breath, his hand, his body—you are completely consumed by him. 

“Matthew,” he whispers in your ear. “My name’s Matthew.”

He told you his name. Does he trust you enough not to ask questions? Not that you have it in you to do so, but it throws you off for a moment. 

He told you his name. The masked stranger who refuses to even take his gloves off told you his name. Your mind reels. You’re interpreting too much into this, but how can you not? You are completely infatuated. 

You’re infatuated with the devil. 

The heavy leather of his gloves thuds to the ground next to the bed. When his bare fingers touch you, you’re almost halfway on your way to heaven. 

You let out a soft moan that sends the heat to your cheeks. Your heartbeat pulsates in your ear. You can hear your blood rushing. Can he hear it too?

“Tell me it’s okay.”

You blink at his demand. 

“Tell me it’s okay to touch you,” he says. “I need to hear you say it.”

The words elude you for a moment. “I–” You swallow as you look at his covered face. “Yes,” the consent rolls off your lips softly but surely. “I want you to…touch me.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. This is the most human you have seen him. “Thank you,” he says. 

You open your mouth again to respond, to tell him that he has nothing to thank you for, but he shuts you up by thrusting two of his thick fingers into your tight cunt all at once. 

Your words turn into a loud moan that bounces off your apartment walls. You struggle against the restraints, wanting to wrap around his wrist, but you have nowhere to go. Your walls clench around the intrusion, but he pushes through, his fingertips brushing over that one sweet spot that has you seeing stars within seconds. And once he has found that spot, there is no going back. 

The lewdest cacophony of wetness and heady moans turns into a crescendo. He is playing your keys so delicately, your entire body locks up. The wave keeps on building until it has turned into the size of a tsunami, ready to destroy whatever is in its path. 

He moves his digits in and out of you, brushing against that spot every time he thrusts back in, and he pushes even deeper until he’s filled you up completely to the brim. He reaches parts of you that you never knew existed, and he does it over and over and over again until there is not much more you can take. 

His free hand grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to meet the darkness of his mask. Somehow, that makes your walls clench ever harder around him. He smirks. Oh, that shit-eating smirk is going to be the death of you, you’re sure. At the same time though, you want to wipe it off his face. 

“Look at me,” he says. 

You have no choice but to comply, as ironic as it sounds. 

“Good girl.”

The subtle praise makes your nails draw blood from your palms, the robe rubbing against the sensitive skin of your wrists and probably doing just the same. You’re going to be bloody and bruised tomorrow. You’re going to carry his marks.

You’re his now. 

“Are you gonna come?” his breath tickles your ear. 

All you can muster is a weak nod. 

“Good,” he says. “Don’t.”

You must have misheard him. “What?!” you stammer. “But–”

“No.” 

Fucking with danger is as hot as it is frustrating, it seems. 

His fingers pull out of you suddenly, roughly—you are left with a gaping emptiness that makes your thighs clench, and your throat emits a whine that you are not used to hearing from yourself. 

“Please,” you beg. You never beg. Not like this. “Please, Matthew, I… I’m sorry.”

What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong. But he makes you feel like you did. He makes you feel like you deserve to feel so pathetic, and that he owns your orgasms. 

He owns you. 

Well, shit. 

The ropes around your wrists disappear for a moment. A moment of mercy, you think, but he is quick to flip you onto your stomach. The bed creaks again. You catch a glimpse of his smirk again. His mask. His body. His cock. It looks like he touched himself while he fingered you, his cock pink and weeping as it stands tall against his stomach. You want to reach out and touch it, a rare beauty, a rare sight, but once again, you are disappointed. 

He flips you over, and he ties your hands back to the headboard. You’re once again trapped. 

A series of cries, “Please, please, please!” Passes your lips. You kick your feet, you say his name, and you moan when his lips travel down your exposed back. You would do anything for more, and you try to, but he won’t let up. 

This is what you get for making foolish choices. 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he rasps. His hand collides with your backside, and you cry out. The pain turns into the sweetest pleasure, making your clit throb in need. You can’t withstand him. “I’m far from done with you. You asked for this, remember?”

The way he says it sends shivers down your spine.

When his thick cock penetrates your tight walls, forcing your legs to stay together as he pushes his way forward, you surrender. Your jaw slacks in a needy moan. He’s got you wrapped around his finger and his cock, and the feelings he elicits in you are so inhuman, you get addicted. He’s a drug. He’s dangerous. 

But danger has never looked so fucking good before. 

Besides, you brought this upon yourself when you let him into your bed. When you asked him to fuck you like no one has ever fucked you before. When you gave him consent to touch you. And when you let him take you like this, you surrendered yourself to him all over again. All of you. Your mind, body, and soul. You gave it all to him. You’re his now. 

His. His. His. It keeps repeating in your mind as he pounds into you, and God, it is good. It is so good, you lose yourself, and you never want to go back. 

The stranger in the mask is what you need. He is all you will ever need. 

You asked for this. 

You made a deal with the devil and now you have to pay your dues. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @ravenclaw617 @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch

Also tagging: @blackshadowswriter @1988-fiend

[luveline]

Jade, after the last zombie blurb I can’t stop thinking about like, r taking care of Steve’s knee. Poor boy does so much for everyone else and probably doesn’t think to take care of himself so r just wraps it for him or something. Feel free to use this as a prompt if you’d like, no pressure!!

thank you for the prompt beautiful, I thought it was a great idea!! steve zombie au — you wrap up Steve's injured knee and get ready to move out of your makeshift camp. tw for zombie apocalypse typical violence and gore

There's a misery in the air thick as coal dust. For five days now, you, Steve, and the rest of the survivors from The College have been holed up in an apartment building within the city that surrounds The Michigan–Indiana border. At first, you'd been scared that the raiders who ruined your community would follow the tracks and find you, but a handful of scouts doubled back to find the ruins of your community completely empty. Wrecked, but uninhabited. 

With no one to hide from, a new problem emerges. How are you going to feed this many mouths, support so many children who can't fend for themselves? 

You have to get back on the road. 

So people are packing up. You, amongst the injured, can only sit and watch, though your cuts and bruises get better everyday and this is more of a Steve-mandated bed rest than a necessary sit down. Meanwhile, Steve limps around on his hurting knee and pretends it doesn't hurt at all. You can see him across the room from you now, helping a young girl tie her borrowed shoes tightly. You'll be walking as far as you can tonight, which with little ones won't be very far, but to them will seem like miles and miles and miles. 

"How's that? Not too tight?" he asks, tying her laces.

"It's okay." 

"You need them nice and snug so you don't get blisters, I know it's not comfortable. You're being really brave, Debbie." 

"Is my dad coming home soon?" 

You're terrified for a moment that her dad is one of the people who didn't make it here with you, but luckily Steve must know who she means, and he says, "Any minute now, the river's not far. Do you want to come and sit with me and my girlfriend?" 

She nods to her left, where a book rests face down. "I'm okay. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. We're just over there if you change your mind, okay?" 

He points at you. Debbie and Steve notice you watching them, and you give them a friendly smile and wave. You know you don't look especially inviting. You have marks all over your arms, more on your legs though they're hidden by your pants, and your hair hasn't been taken care of in a week. Your wave falters, even as Steve waves back. 

You pull on the jacket you've been given and pull the hood over your hair before Steve gets back to you.

Steve sits down next to you and sighs.

"Ready to go?" he asks. 

"Yeah." It's not as if you have any possessions to pack. "Are you?" 

"For sure," he says, dropping his face into his hands. "No, god… I'm tired, I don't wanna walk. I wish we could stay here." 

"I know, I'm sorry." 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and straightens up. You haven't had a whole lot to talk about with one another lately, but luckily love doesn't need a lot. Your hands meet like magnets and your fingers thread together, his palm rough as yours but pleasantly warm. 

You sit like that for a while. 

"Here, the boon you requested," Robin announces, dropping a little white parcel into your lap. "Did you guys need socks? Sarah said she'd swap me four whole pairs for one of my hoodies." 

Robin being willing to swap one of her hoodies for socks makes you wanna cry. You smile at her. 

"We don't need any socks. You need to stop trading your things away," Steve says. 

"I know you'll find me another one." She looks between you both and bites her lip, hands moving up to her hair. She scratches through it. "Maybe we could stay here tonight, catch up with everyone else tomorrow," she suggests, eyeing you both thoughtfully.

"No," Steve says, kind but firm. "We're ready to go." 

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna go see if Chloe needs a hand with baby Ada," Robin says. She makes a heart with her hand and pushes it down at you. You make one back. 

"She doesn't even like babies," Steve says as she leaves. 

"She's amazing. Okay, take your pants off handsome." 

Steve blinks at you. "Excuse me?" 

You hold the bandage Robin brought you between your index and middle finger. "Time to wrap you up." 

"I'm not cut." 

"I know, but we're gonna be walking, and your knee still hurts. The compression will help." 

Steve knows you're right, even if he isn't eager to be looked after. You shake the blanket over his lap and he slides out of his pants, baring his purpled knee to you unhappily. 

"The bruise is worse," you murmur, unwrapping the bandage from itself in looser circles around your hand. "But it doesn't look swollen anymore. How does it feel?" 

"I was shit scared it was fucked forever, but it was just sprained. It's definitely getting better," he confesses. 

"And if it was fucked?" you ask. He told you it didn't even hurt. "Were you going to pretend forever?" 

"As long as a I could." 

You rub your thumb over his kneecap and wince at his wincing. "Lame… This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry, but not for long." 

"How d'you know it won't make it worse?"

"According to Sarah's copy of Field Medicine for Injury and Disease, it won't. I'm gonna start on top so it doesn't chafe while we walk, and I'm going to pull it really tight, so tell me if it doesn't feel right." 

"Can I ask you something?" Steve says severely. "Who the fuck is Sarah?" 

You wrap his knee. One round of white bandages at a time with a continued pressure, your fingers as gentle as they can be over the stain of his contusion. He doesn't make a sound the whole time, though you know it aches. 

"Did Robin give you her last quarter?" you ask. 

"What, the oxycontin? No, I think she gave it to Jonathan. His burn is scabbing over."

"Then you have nerves of steel." You want to call him my love, or my boy, but you're not often like that, and not in front of so many people. While nobody's watching, you lean down and kiss his knee. You're embarrassed as soon as you've done it but you can't take it back; you sit up and finish tucking in the end. 

Steve takes your face into his hand unexpectedly. 

He might call you honey, or baby, but he's quiet. You miss him so much and he's right here —you don't need The College if he's with you, but you'll miss your bedroom, because there he'd talk for hours about whatever he wanted. You'd give anything to be back there even for a second listening to him re-explain the plot of Fast Times, or try to convince you that cheese didn't even taste that good anyways so don't bother missing it. 

But you're here, and he's gonna be fine. One day he's gonna feel like chatting his nonsense again and you'll be there to listen. Until then, you'll do your best to take care of him.

"Thanks," he says, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

He looks so pretty. Brown eyes, the lingering purple and yellow of the shiner he suffered nearly invisible under the dark shadows beneath them. His hair is limp and a tiny bit longer than he prefers to have it, kissing his neck on both sides. He doesn't look clean, and it doesn't matter. 

"You're welcome. Now put your pants back on, Steve. We have places to be soon." 

He squeezes your cheek. "I don't think I can stand up." 

You help him back into his pants, the both of you laughing, and shuffle on your butt so you can sit hip to hip with him, your arm curled behind the small of his back. 

"Put your head on my shoulder, please," you say. 

Steve complies. 

You smile to yourself when he starts to talk quietly, "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I went to Switzerland? Skiing?" 

"No," you murmur back. "What happened?" 

"I fell on my face. So, I was seventeen, and my mom…" 

—

if you’re reading this, thank you so much! I know some of you are dedicated readers of the zombie au and it warms my heart completely, it makes writing for them so so rewarding and I couldn’t be more grateful <3 if you have any requests for them let me know if you’d like to! but thank you again either way!

[tevanbuckley]

see this is what I don´t get. i love him - but we did not need Tommy in 8x01. Buck could have mentioned him and that would have been enough to remind the audience of them being together. Leave him out of 8x01 and put him in 8x02 or 8x03 instead! He is a pilot. This is a plane emergency. It will make more sense then having him eat cake at Eddies house, Tim!

On the other hand, they barely managed to integrate Hen, Chim and Eddie in 8x03. I wasn´t very excited for the first 3 episodes and it really turned out as expected. It was the Bathena show again with a side of Buck.

yeah, ppl have brought up the practical costs of including him, but if that were the case surely they’d prioritise this over chris’ zoom party? the inclusion of the 217 makes me wonder if they did initially intend for him to be there but got lost in the bathena of it all and ended up not having room for anything else. Even all the stuff they set up with the guest characters got dropped, like what happened to dog girl and viagra guy? we didn’t even get to see jem and his dad reunite!

ridiculously, I think the highway landing went a little too smoothly, they cook up this insane plan in 30 seconds that just kinda works, and the dennis/pedo ring stuff didn’t have high enough stakes for an act 2 follow up imo. They could’ve had more pushback from ATC or made more out of athena having to chose between making a risky landing that could kill even more people or sacrificing the passengers on the plane who were probably gonna die anyway.

not only would something going wrong give them a reason to call the pilot they know, by proximity having to get tommy’s help could’ve given chim, eddie and hen something to do, seeing as they were twiddling their thumbs a fire truck over!

if they really did want to go all in on the plane crash, they should’ve left the dennis stuff as a lose thread to pick up later, especially because I assume athena pissing off a bunch of high powered sex pests is gonna have further consequences down the line.

[spid3r-trans]

so I have an au idea:

punkflower tangled au

a/n: had to work out some details w this one sorry it took longer! i really couldn’t get my head wrapped around like a fantasy setting for this so it’s kind of different. i hope it’s ok!

~

Miles is different from the others. He knows that. He’s an anomaly— that’s what he’s been told for as long as he can remember. He knows that he has to stay here, in this place, because if he doesn’t the entire thread of the universe could start to unravel.

People would die. So he stays put.

Hobie is different from the others. He’s more stubborn, more curious, and far less likely to follow orders. So when he hears a rumor about a boy in a tower, well, it’s only second nature to want to find out the truth for himself.

The gravity-defying, sleek structure that sits in the center of Nueva York is a mystery to most onlookers. Rumors of twisting elevators, endless hallways, and secret rooms pass in hushed whispers between lips — and Hobie knows they’re all true.

He’s sneaking through those very halls now, sticking to the shadows, keeping his head down. Being here is supposed to be a privilege, an honor, a tribute to his abilities. It’s all bullshit. He just needs to prove it.

In the outside world, talks about what they really do at the facility are common. Speculations, accusations, doubts — Hobie often spearheads such conversations himself. There’s something undeniably suspicious about conducting and preserving the events of the entire multiverse based on the theories of one man.

Hobie was never meant to overhear the high-spirited A.I. talking to the leader of the operation. He was never meant to hack into the security archives and pinpoint the exact location they spoke of— and he most certainly was never supposed to make his way there. Still, the heavy echo of his boots reverberates as he makes his way down the empty hall.

Deep within the confines of the building that houses the society, Hobie comes to a vast, empty room. Automatic lights click on when he enters, making him squint at the sight before him. A strange metallic structure juts abruptly from the floor, rising high into the air and doming at the top.

It’s a tower.

Of all the outlandish rumors he heard, Hobie had hoped this one was a myth.

—

Fuck. His head hurts. Hobie slowly regains consciousness, starting to move his hand to feel what must be a massive lump forming on his forehead — only to realize that he can’t. He’s tied to a chair and his web-shooters are gone.

Panic doesn’t have a chance to set in before his spider sense — which has decided to work now — goes off, and a figure emerges from the shadows.

A boy, apprehensive and wielding a frying pan glowers at Hobie from across the room.

“Who are you?” He asks, “And how did you find me?”

—

Miles needed convincing. It’s not easy to leave a place when you’re told the entire multiverse could collapse and it would be your fault— but Miles wants to go.

Hobie is convincing. He tells Miles in his silly accent about what’s really out there. About the experiences Miles can still have— he wants Miles to come with him.

Sneaking out of the facility is no easy task. Hobie almost wonders if it was worth it, if he did the right thing — but when they stumble into one of the few spots left in Nueva York where nature thrives, Miles smiles.

And in that brief moment, Hobie knows.

Send an army, let the entire multiverse collapse — he’ll be by Miles’ side.