#i'm posting the bitterness here so that I don't post it all over her face

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

Masterlist Link

GIF by wyattjohnston

...

HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

Tag List <3

message me to be added!

[rajanilefreak]

Oh, the irony of my mom 'being lazy' (as she put it when she referred to me doing it) because of depression complaining to me that I don't understand what she's feeling like.

I mean, it's not like she hadn't berated me about it enough times that I forced myself to scrounge up any energy I had to get through the day to do what she demanded and barely felt like doing anything I actually would have wanted to do (which would have likely improved my mental health) and even if I did feel like doing any of it, I simply lacked the energy for it, or anything like that.

[aceyalonso]

a win-win situation? - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary : Fresh from a Formula 1 race win, Lewis Hamilton parties with his friends at a club. Y/n L/n, troubled by the condition that she must be married to inherit her father's company, is at the same club. They hit it off, have a few too many drinks, and wake up in a hotel room, shocked to realize they got married

warnings : drinking, swearing, suggestive content, 11-year age gap (reader is 28 years old)

word count : 7.1k

song : it won't stop - sevyn streeter, chris brown

a/n : 200 followers special & lewis win post!!! (i'm not sure if i want to make a part 2 to this ngl)

Sunday, 11:49 PM

The club was loud and chaotic, with people dancing, yelling, and drinking. The lights flashed colors in time to the music, giving off a disorienting feeling. The room was stuffy and hot, with people packed together like sardines, attempting to talk over the music and flirt with strangers

This club was like a small universe within itself, with each group doing its own thing and making a lot of noise while doing so. The music was loud enough to drown out any conversation that would have otherwise been attempted, and the alcohol only helped the chaos grow.

Some people were there to celebrate and have a good time, laughing and dancing with their friends to the music. Others were sulking and sad, either nursing a drink or trying to drown their miseries with alcohol.

Lewis was one of the people there to celebrate, and he was having the time of his life. They were all drinking and dancing in the center of the crowd, laughing and talking loudly to be heard over the music.

Unlike Lewis, who was having the time of his life on the dance floor, Y/n was at the bar with one of her friends. She was downing shot after shot, her mood sour and her temper short. The alcohol was dulling the edges of her anger.

Y/n

With a sigh, I slammed my glass down on the bar, my temper flaring. Lyka turned to me, her gaze curious and concerned as she asked, "So what did your father say that's got you in such a mood?"

I grumble, my irritation and bitterness clear in my voice. "My dad said I could inherit the company, but..."

I trail off, my mind swirling with the implications of my father's statement. Though part of me was undoubtedly happy to know that the family business would one day be mine, there was something else that bothered me.

Lyka picked up on my hesitation and leaned in closer to ask, "But what? You should be happy about that, right?"

I snort derisively, my shoulders tensing. "Yeah, I should be happy... But there's a catch, of course. There always is with him."

She frowns, sensing the weight of my discontentment. "What kind of catch are we talking about here?"

My words came out sharp and bitter, my eyes hardening. "I have to get married. That's the catch. My dad said I can inherit the company, but I have to be married first."

She gasps in surprise, clearly not expecting such a stipulation. "Wait, seriously? He's telling you that you have to be MARRIED just to inherit the company?"

I nod grimly, my expression darkening. "Yeah, that's the deal. I've got to find someone to settle down with if I ever want to take over the family business," I chuckled sarcastically. "It's ridiculous, I know."

Lyka's eyes widen, her face filled with sympathy. "damn, that's... rough. You don't even get a say in who you marry?"

I nod, my expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, that was the compromise. I get to choose who I marry but must be married within the next year. It's like he doesn't trust me to run the company by myself."

She lets out a sympathetic sigh, reaching out to comfort me. "That's so unfair, you shouldn't have to get married just to prove yourself. But I guess it's better than having someone picked for you, huh?"

I nodded grudgingly, letting out a small huff. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just… I'm not even sure if I want to get married at all, you know? The whole idea of it just feels so… I don't know, constraining, I guess."

Her friend nods, trying to shift the conversation to a lighter topic. "Okay, enough about your dad's stupid rule. Let's talk about something else. How's work been going for you?"

Y/n takes the chance to change the subject, grateful for the distraction. "Work's been alright. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time for anything fun."

"Yeah, I know how that is," her friend replies sympathetically. "It feels like work just takes over your life sometimes. But hey, at least you're making some good money, right?"

Y/n lets out a dry chuckle, her mood lightening slightly. "Oh, yeah. I'm making really good money. So good that I practically live at the office these days."

Lyka laughs as well, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Damn, girl. Sounds like you're going to be rolling in it if you take over the company. You'll be able to buy anything and everything you've ever wanted."

Y/n grins, a little spark of hope reigniting at the thought. "Yeah, that's true. I could buy a nice house, or take fancy vacations whenever I want. I could pretty much do whatever I want, really."

Y/n's grin fades, her expression turning thoughtful. "But… I won't be able to take those vacations with a husband, would I? It would mean having to consider someone else's schedule and preferences, and I wouldn't be able to just take off whenever I want anymore."

Her friend nods sympathetically, her gaze understanding. "Yeah, that's a good point. Having a partner would definitely change things, especially when it comes to travel and leisure. It's not quite the same as having the freedom to go where and when you want, without any strings attached."

Y/n lets out a sigh, her irritation beginning to return. "Exactly. And it's not just the travel that's the issue. It's the whole idea of having to compromise and make sacrifices for someone else. I don't know if I'm ready for that, or if I ever will be."

The girls down another shot, the alcohol giving them a pleasant buzz. Y/n, feeling a little looser now, turns to her friend. "Hey, you know what? Let's go dance. We didn't come here just to sit at the bar all night, right?"

Her friend grins and nods in agreement, clearly ready to cut loose. "Yeah, let's do it. I could use some movement after hearing about your dad's ridiculous rule."

Y/n pushes away from the bar, her steps a little unsteady as the alcohol takes effect. Lyka laughs and steadies her, both of them making their way to the crowded dance floor.

They push their way through the sea of people, the music and lights creating a chaotic and energizing atmosphere. Y/n begins to sway and move to the beat. Lyka joins in, both of them letting go of their worries and simply enjoying the moment.

As Y/n is dancing, she suddenly feels the presence of someone behind her, close enough to dance but still leaving a respectful distance. Startled at first, she quickly realizes is being careful not to violate her space.

Y/n turns her head to catch a glimpse of who's behind her, her curiosity and excitement growing.

Her eyes widen as she turns and sees a man behind her. His hands are covered in intricate tattoos, drawing attention to his veiny hands and making her curious to know the stories behind them. But what truly captures her attention is his smile, a warm, charming grin that seems to light up his whole face.

"Hey," Y/n says, her voice a little breathless as she takes in his appearance.

His grin grows broader, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey there," he replies, his voice carrying over the music. "I hope you don't mind me joining in. You looked like you were having a good time."

Y/n laughs, the alcohol helping her loosen up. "No, it's fine. I don't mind at all. I was just surprised, that's all."

She continues to dance, her movements more fluid and relaxed now that she has someone to dance with. She glances over at the man, taking in his tattoos and his easygoing demeanor.

The man dances alongside her, his steps matching hers effortlessly. He moves with a grace and confidence that is almost captivating, his body flowing with the rhythm of the music. Every now and then, he'll glance at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before darting away again.

As they continue to dance, he takes the opportunity to introduce himself. "By the way, I'm Lewis," he says, his voice smooth and pleasant to the ears. "What's your name?"

Y/n glances at him with a smile, appreciating his forwardness. "I'm Y/n," she replies, her voice a little louder to be heard over the music. "It's nice to meet you, Lewis."

Lewis nods, his smile widening at her response. "Y/n. A pretty name for a pretty lady." He glances at her again, his gaze openly admiring her appearance.

Y/n feels a little thrill at his compliment, her cheeks heating slightly under his gaze. She glances back at him, her eyes taking in his tattoos and his confidence. "You're not so bad yourself," she replies with a flirtatious undertone.

Lewis raises an eyebrow at her response, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that a compliment I hear?" he replies with a hint of amusement. "Careful now, you might make me blush."

Y/n grins, enjoying the banter between them. "Oh, please. I doubt a guy like you blushes easily. You're probably used to girls fawning over you all the time."

Lewis lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're right about that. I do get my fair share of attention, but it's nice to have a conversation with someone who's not afraid to give me a little snark back."

Y/n grins, her earlier irritation completely forgotten as she dances with Lewis. "Oh, I can definitely give you snark. And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're cute."

Lewis raises an eyebrow again, clearly enjoying their back-and-forth banter. "Oh, I would expect nothing less. It wouldn't be as much fun if you went easy on me, now would it?"

Y/n chuckles and leans closer to Lewis, the alcohol giving her a bit of courage. "Hey, if you're gonna keep me entertained with your witty banter, the least you can do is buy me a drink."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her demanding tone. "Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Y/n. But I think I can manage that."

He offers her his hand, a smirk on his face. "Come on, let's head back to the bar. What do you want to drink?"

Y/n takes his hand and follows him towards the bar, feeling a little flutter in her stomach. "I'll take a vodka soda, thanks," she replies, her gaze lingering on his tattoos again.

Lewis nods and leads her through the crowded club, his grip firm and reassuring on her hand. They reach the bar and he signals for the bartender, calling out Y/n's drink order. As they wait for their drinks, he turns to her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"So," he says, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "You said you're not afraid to give me snark. Does that mean I have to watch my words, or are you just full of empty threats?"

Y/n laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm a woman of my word. If you say something stupid, you can bet I'll call you out on it. Don't underestimate me, Lewis."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her feisty personality. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I find a woman with a sharp tongue quite refreshing. It keeps me on my toes, you know?"

Y/n smiles, his comment making her heart flutter a bit more. "Well, you better get used to it then. Because I don't plan on holding back, no matter how charming you are."

"Good," Lewis replies, his voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Just then, the bartender slides their drinks over to them, interrupting their conversation. Lewis hands Y/n her vodka soda, his fingers brushing against hers in the process.

Y/n feels a shiver run up her spine as their fingers touch, his touch sending tiny sparks across her skin. She takes a sip of her drink, the alcohol instantly making her feel more relaxed and carefree.

Lewis sips his own drink, eyeing her over the rim of his glass with a sly smile. "So, Y/n," he says, his tone a little more serious now. "What brings a woman like you out dancing by herself on a Friday night?"

Y/n glances around the club, her gaze landing on her friend who is dancing nearby. "Oh, I'm not actually here alone," she replies, her voice slightly amused. "My friend is over there. We came together, but she ditched me to dance with some guy."

Y/n turns to Lewis and gestures in the direction of her friend. "See that girl over there? The one who's talking to the DJ? That's my friend. She left me here to go flirt with him."

Lewis turns to look at the DJ, his eyes lighting up in recognition. "Whoa, wait a minute," he says, his tone tinged with surprise. "That's actually my friend, Lando."

Y/n raises an eyebrow at this new bit of information. "Wait, really? You know the DJ?"

Lewis nods, a small smirk on his face. "Yeah, we've known each other for a while. We met a few years back. We've been friends ever since."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new information, glancing over at her friend and Lando. "Well, I guess that explains why she's been dancing with him all night then."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused by the situation. "Looks like it. Lando has a way of charming the ladies. Seems like your friend isn't immune to it either."

Y/n chuckles. "Clearly not. She's practically drooling over him. But I can't blame her, he does have a certain charm."

"That he does," Lewis agrees, taking a sip of his drink. "He's a good guy, but he's got quite the reputation with the ladies. He has a new girl on his arm every weekend, it seems."

Y/n shakes her head with a smile, diverting the conversation back to Lewis. "Okay, enough about my friend and Lando. I want to know more about you."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her attention. "Oh, do you now? And what exactly do you want to know about me?"

Lewis chuckles at her question and replies, with a hint of mystery. "Well, I'm certainly older than you, that's for sure. Let's just say I've got a bit more experience under my belt."

Y/n grins, his response only making her more curious. "Oh, so you're an experienced one, huh? How much experience exactly? Or are you going to keep me in suspense?"

Lewis smirks, clearly enjoying their banter. "Now, Y/n, where's the fun in giving away all my secrets at once? You'll have to be patient if you want to find out more about me."

Y/n feigns disappointment, her expression exaggerated. "Oh, you're going to make me wait, huh? Fine, I guess I'll have to be patient. But I warn you, I'm not a very patient person."

Lewis relents, his smile widening as he answers her question. "Alright, since you're so insistent. I'm 39."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she lets out a whistle. "Seriously? You're 39? I thought you were younger, like early 30s at the oldest."

Lewis chuckles, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment. I may be a bit older, but I like to think I still have a young heart, you know?"

Y/n grins, her initial surprise replaced by a touch of admiration. "That's impressive. You definitely don't act your age. You still look and act like you're in your 20s."

Lewis shrugs, a hint of pride in his gaze. "I take care of myself. I work out, eat healthy, and stay active. I guess it pays off, huh?"

Y/n nods approvingly, taking in his toned physique. "Yeah, it definitely does. You look like you could give guys half your age a run for their money."

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, a curious smile on his lips. "Alright, speaking of age, now it's my turn to ask. How old are you, Y/n?"

She takes a sip of her drink before answering, a touch of nervousness in her tone. "I'm 28," she replies, trying to sound nonchalant.

His eyes widen slightly, a look of surprise crossing his face. "28, huh? You look younger. I would have guessed you were in your mid-20s, tops."

Y/n chuckles, a mix of pride and embarrassment in her tone. "Thanks, I guess. I try to take care of myself too. I don't want to look like a fossil anytime soon."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused. "Fair enough. It's always good to stay young at heart, no matter your age. And it seems like you're doing a pretty good job of it so far."

Y/n grins, feeling bolder now. "Well, you know what they say - age is just a number, right? It's all about how you feel inside. And I feel pretty young and free right now."

Lewis nods in agreement, a twinkle in his eye. "That's a good attitude to have. Life is too short to let age define you. You gotta embrace every moment, no matter how old or young you are."

Y/n grins, raising her glass in agreement. "Here, here. To embracing every moment, no matter how old or young we are."

They clink their shot glasses together and take a swig, the alcohol burning their throats and adding to the already buzzing feeling in their systems.

Fast forward to a few hours later, Y/n and Lewis are both feeling the effects of the alcohol kicking in. Their movements are looser, their inhibitions lower, and their words a little bit slurred. They're both laughing and talking animatedly, the boundaries between them disappearing with every drink they take.

Y/n leans against the bar, her head spinning slightly, her gaze fixed on Lewis who is standing next to her. "You know, Lewis, you're not so bad when you're drunk," she slurs, a lazy smile on her face.

Lewis grins back at her, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol. "And you're not too bad yourself, Y/n. In fact, you're a damn good drinking partner."

Y/n throws her head back in a drunken giggle, feeling lightheaded and carefree. "Oh, I'm the best drinking partner you've ever had, buddy. I can out-drink you anytime, anyday."

Lewis leans closer to Y/n's ear, his breath warm on her skin as he slurs out a suggestion. "Hey, you wanna go somewhere a bit more private? Somewhere away from all these people?"

Y/n turns to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The alcohol has made her bolder and carefree, and she doesn't hesitate to agree. "Yeah, let's do it. Let's get away from this crowd. Leady the way, Lewis."

Lewis grins, his hand wrapping around hers as he leads her away from the packed nightclub. They weave through the sea of people, their steps a bit unsteady as the alcohol continues to flow through their systems.

They finally reach a quieter corner of the club, a more secluded area away from the hustle and bustle of the dance floor. Lewis leans against the wall, pulling Y/n closer to him, his hands resting on her hips.

Y/n stumbles a little as she steps closer, her body against his. Her head is spinning a bit, and her senses are heightened by the alcohol. She looks up at him, her eyes half-lidded. "This is better. Just you and me, away from the crowd."

Lewis nods in agreement, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at her. His hands grip her hips tighter, pulling her closer. "Just you and me, Y/n. No one to bother us, no distractions."

They stand there, their bodies pressed together, gazes locked in a silent, charged moment. For a few seconds, time seems to stand still as they take each other in, their breathing heavy and their hearts pounding in their chests.

The air between them crackles with electricity, their connection undeniable. Lewis' hands move up from her hips, tracing along her sides, and Y/n shivers at his touch, her skin tingling from his caress.

Lewis pulls her even closer, their bodies now flush against each other. Y/n can feel every muscle, every contour of his body against hers, and she can't help but shiver again. She lifts her chin, her lips parting slightly as she gazes up at him, her eyes hooded with desire.

Without warning, Lewis loses control and closes the gap between them, his lips crashing into hers in a kiss that's all hunger and need. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, fueled by the alcohol and the mounting tension between them.

Y/n responds instantly, her lips parting willingly under his as she returns the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling into his braids as she clings to him, her body arching into his.

The kiss deepens, their mouths moving together in a frenzied, sloppy dance of desire. Teeth clash and tongues tangle, as they pour all their pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss.

Lewis' hands roam freely across her body, pulling her closer, his touch possessive and urgent. Y/n moans into his mouth, her body responding to his touch, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, Y/n manages to pull herself back, breaking the kiss. Her chest is heaving with every labored breath, her body ablaze with desire. Her eyes flutter open, and she gazes at Lewis, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

Y/n glances up at Lewis, her expression a little dazed and a little amused. "Damn, you know what? You're a pretty good kisser. I might just have to marry you for that reason alone."

Lewis laughs, his head leaning back against the wall. "Is that all it takes, huh? A good kiss and you're ready to tie the knot?"

Y/n grins, tilting her head to the side. "Hey, I'm just saying, I think you'd make a pretty good husband… as long as you keep kissing me like that."

Lewis chuckles, his hands still resting on her hips, his grip a little looser now. "Is that a threat or a promise?" he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n pretends to think for a moment, her index finger tapping her chin. "A little bit of both, I think," she replies, a cheeky smile on her lips. "I'll expect a ring, but you'll have to keep up with those kisses… among other things."

Lewis laughs, shaking his head in bemusement. "You know what? Sure, why not? Let's do it. I'll marry you. I guess a good kissing record is enough to secure the deal."

Y/n, giggling like a schoolgirl, grabs Lewis's hand and pulls him out of the club. The cool night air hits them, and she shivers slightly, her head still spinning from the alcohol. "Let's go! Let's go get married!"

Monday, 8:57 AM

Y/n groans as she slowly opens her eyes, blinking against the bright light streaming through the curtains. She lifts her head, her mind fuzzy and disoriented, and takes in her surroundings. She's lying in a hotel room, the unfamiliar surroundings taking a moment to register in her hungover mind.

As her vision clears, she becomes aware of the weight and heat of another body pressed against hers. She turns her head slightly and sees Lewis lying next to her, fast asleep, their hands intertwined between them.

Y/n's eyes widen as she glances down at her hand, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the ring on her finger. Her head is still fuzzy from the alcohol and her memories of the previous night are hazy, but the ring on her finger is undeniable.

She tries to pull her hand away from Lewis's grasp, but his fingers remain tightly interlaced with hers, even in his sleep. The realization of what happened slowly starts to sink in, and Y/n looks from her hand to Lewis's sleeping face, her mind buzzing with confusion and disbelief.

The room is silent, apart from the steady sound of Lewis's breathing. Y/n lies still, her heart pounding as her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. She glances at the ring again, her stomach churning with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a hint of excitement.

She's married. She's actually married. To Lewis. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, and Y/n isn't sure if it's the alcohol still lingering in her system or the sheer absurdity of the situation that's making her feel so lightheaded.

She lies there for a few more moments, her hand still trapped in Lewis's grip, her mind swirling with a million thoughts and questions. What did she get herself into? How did this happen? And most importantly, how is she going to face Lewis when he wakes up?

As the minutes tick by, Y/n takes deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She glances at Lewis again, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the turmoil in her head. She can feel the warm weight of his leg draped over hers, their bodies intertwined in the narrow hotel bed.

A small part of her is scared, unsure of what the future holds now that she's inadvertently married Lewis. But another part of her, the part fueled by alcohol-induced courage and impulsiveness, is curious, excited even, at the possibility of what this unexpected turn of events could mean.

Still, her head is throbbing with a headache, a reminder of the night before and the alcohol they consumed. She tries to piece together the events that led them to this point, but her memories are hazy and fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that refuse to fit together.

Y/n attempts to wake Lewis up, gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name in a soft, hoarse voice. "Lewis… wake up, Lewis…" she murmurs, her head still aching as she speaks.

Lewis stirs at the sound of her voice, his eyes slowly opening as he blinks against the bright light filtering through the curtains. He looks disoriented for a moment, his gaze bleary as he takes in his surroundings and slowly registers where he is, and more importantly, who he is with.

As his eyes focus on Y/n's face, a look of realization dawns on his own. He lifts his head, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief as he looks down at their intertwined hands. His fingers, still linked with hers, tighten around hers as he processes their current predicament.

"Holy shit," he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse and dry from sleep. "Did we…?" He trails off, his gaze shifting from their hands to her face, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Y/n nods slowly, her heart hammering in her chest as she meets his gaze. The reality of their situation is crashing down on her now, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she responds. "Yeah… I think we did, Lewis. We…" she swallows hard, the words stuck in her throat. "…I think we got married."

Lewis's eyes widen further, his surprise mirrored in his expression. He sits up slowly, still holding her hand in his. "We got married," he repeats, his tone disbelieving. He runs his free hand through his bed-rumpled hair, a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. "How the hell did that happen?"

Y/n shakes her head, her own disbelief just as evident. "I don't know. I can barely remember last night. We were at the club, and we were both drunk and…" her voice trails off as the memories of the previous night continue to elude her.

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, his hand still firmly holding hers. "Yeah, same here. It's all a blur to me too. I remember having a few drinks, and then…" He pauses, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is insane. We got married. Like, actually married."

Y/n nods again, her eyes still on their intertwined hands. "I know. It's unbelievable. We were just… having fun, you know? Having drinks, dancing, joking around. And now…" she trails off again, her mind struggling to process the situation.

Y/n lets out a slew of profanities under her breath, her frustration and disbelief spilling out in a rush of colorful words. "This is unbelievable. I can't believe we actually got married. Of all the stupid things we could have done, we tied the knot. What were we thinking?"

Her head is still throbbing with a killer hangover headache, and the reality of their situation is hitting her like a freight train. She glances over at Lewis, who is still sitting up next to her, looking just as shocked and bewildered as she feels.

Part of her wants to pinch herself to see if it's all real, but the presence of the ring on her finger and the warm weight of Lewis's hand holding hers confirms that it is indeed no dream.

Y/n's eyes widen as she looks at the documents on the table. They're official documents, a marriage certificate bearing both her name and Lewis's. Her heart skips a beat as the reality of the situation hits her like a ton of bricks. This is really happening. They're really, legally married.

The weight of this realization makes her feel dizzy, and she has to steady herself against the table, her hand clenching the edge of it. Her mind is spinning, the headache and the alcohol from the previous night not helping her process this new level of insanity.

Lewis stands up next to her, his movements slow and slightly groggy as he takes the documents from her. He glances through them, his eyes skimming the words and official stamps, the reality of their situation sinking in with each line he reads.

Lewis puts the papers back down on the table, his expression still laced with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. He turns towards Y/n, his expression serious now. "I think we need to talk about this. We can't just ignore the fact that we're apparently married now."

Y/n nods, her own expression solemn. She's still struggling to wrap her mind around the situation, but she knows he's right. They can't just pretend it never happened, not when there's a signed marriage certificate sitting right there.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. "You're right. We need to talk about this. But I don't even know where to start."

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "Neither do I," he admits. "But I guess we start with the obvious questions. Like, how the hell did we even end up getting married in the first place?"

Y/n shakes her head, her confusion mirrored on her face. "I have no idea. I remember us drinking, and dancing, and… well, not much else. It's all pretty blurry after a certain point."

Lewis nods, his expression thoughtful. "Same here. I remember having drinks, and things being fun and light-hearted, and then the next thing I know, we're waking up here, married. It's like a gap in my memory or something."

As the two of them continue to discuss their predicament, out of nowhere, a fragment of Y/n's memory resurfaces, a flash of her father's words from a few days ago. Her face twists with a mix of surprise and frustration as the recollection comes to her.

The memory of her father's words comes rushing back to her now, a sudden realization dawning on her face. The strange, cryptic instructions he'd given her a few days ago about being married come back to her, and now they make a terrible, twisted sort of sense in the context of her current situation.

She looks at Lewis, her eyes suddenly wide with shock and realization. "Oh my god… my dad," she mutters under her breath. The memory of her father telling her she needed to be married for the family business suddenly has a new, and very unnerving, meaning.

Lewis looks at her, confusion and concern on his face. "Your dad? What about him?" he asks, his voice filled with a sense of dread at her sudden outburst.

Y/n explains the situation to Lewis, revealing the deal she had made with her father regarding the inheritance and the family business. She also suggests that they stay married for a little while, just long enough for her to inherit, and then they could get a divorce.

Lewis looks stunned by her revelation and her proposal, his eyes widening as he absorbs the information. "So you're saying we only have to stay married until you inherit? Then we divorce?" he asks, his tone laced with disbelief.

Y/n nods, her expression earnest. "Yes, that's what I'm proposing. We stay married for a while, for the sake of the deal with my father, and then we get a divorce as soon as I inherit. It will be a temporary arrangement, nothing more."

Lewis looks at her, his expression still a mix of disbelief and contemplation. "Married for a while, then divorce," he says slowly, tasting the words on his tongue as he mulls over the idea.

He runs a hand through his hair again, his eyes locked with hers. "It's a lot to take in," he says finally. "Like, we're talking about getting divorced already, and we've only been married for…" He checks the date on the marriage certificate, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "…for less than 24 hours, apparently."

He lets out a dry laugh, rubbing his face with one hand. "This is insane," he mutters. "Married. And already planning a divorce."

He looks back at Y/n, his expression a mix of uncertainty and a touch of humor. "You know, most couples don't start planning their divorce on their first day of marriage," he jokes.

Y/n manages a weak smile in response, the joke lifting the tension a bit. "Yeah, I know," she concedes. "But most couples don't get married in a drunken haze after partying all night either."

Y/n nods and extends her hand for a handshake. "Alright, it's a deal," she says. "We stay married until I inherit, and then we get a divorce. Agreed?"

Lewis looks down at her offered hand, a resigned acceptance in his eyes. He nods and takes her hand firmly, giving it a firm shake. "Agreed," he says. "Temporary spouses, here we go."

Lewis' expression suddenly shifts as he realizes the implications of their agreement. "Oh, fuck," he mutters, his eyes widening. "My PR team is going to have a field day with this."

He looks at her, his expression still one of disbelief at the situation. "My PR team," he clarifies. "You know, the people who manage my public image. They're going to have a lot to handle with this unexpected… development. It's not every day your client gets married out of the blue after a night of heavy drinking."

Y/n looks at him, a realization beginning to dawn on her. "Wait a second," she says, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You have a PR team," she repeats, her voice laced with disbelief. "Why on earth would you need a PR team… unless you're some kind of celebrity or something?"

Lewis laughs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, uh, about that," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I kind of forgot to mention that part. I'm, um, a professional Formula 1 racer, actually."

Y/n's jaw drops at his revelation. "Formula 1?" she echoes, her surprise evident. "You're a professional racer? And you didn't think to mention that before?"

Lewis grimaces slightly, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. It slipped my mind last night, with all the drinking and… well, the whole getting married thing. I didn't think it would come up quite like this, to be honest."

Her expression remains one of disbelief, but there's also a hint of intrigue. "Formula 1," she repeats, her mind now processing this new piece of information. "So you race high-speed cars for a living."

Lewis nods, his face now showing a hint of pride. "That's right," he confirms. "I race for Mercedes- Ferrari soon enough. It's a pretty public profession, hence the PR team."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new revelation. "Okay, so you're a professional racer, with a whole team dedicated to managing your image and public relations. And we… got married last night, without knowing any of that about each other."

Lewis nods, a rueful smile on his face. "Exactly," he concurs. "We had absolutely no idea who each other was, got drunk, got married, and now I have to deal with the fallout with my PR team."

Y/n can't help but find the situation a little insane, but she can also see the humor in it. "Well, this is certainly, uh, interesting," she says finally, her voice almost a laugh. "I can only imagine the look on your PR team's faces when you tell them about this."

Lewis lets out a dry laugh, hiding his face in between his hands. "Yeah, I am not looking forward to that conversation," he confesses. "But I guess it's part of the package when you're a public figure. Nothing stays private, even if you don't want it to."

Y/n's expression softens a bit as she looks at him, seeing the tension in his face. As much as this situation is affecting her, she can't imagine the added layer of scrutiny he has to deal with due to his job. "You really have to consider everything when you're in the public eye, huh?" she comments, her tone a touch sympathetic.

She puts a hand on her forehead, the lingering effects of the hangover headache making her wince. "You know what," she says, "we should probably get some aspirin or something. I can't stand this headache much longer."

Lewis nods in agreement, his hand still massaging his temples. "Yeah, you read my mind," he says. "I don't know about you, but I can't think straight with this headache pounding in my skull."

Y/n gets up from her seat, her movements a bit unsteady as she stands up to look for her bag. "I think I have some Advil in my bag," she says. "I always keep some handy for hangovers like this."

Lewis watches as she rummages through her bag, trying to focus despite the persistent headache. "You're always prepared, aren't you?" he teases, his tone a mix of light humor and genuine admiration.

Y/n flashes him a small smile over her shoulder. "I try," she replies, her hand pulling out a small bottle of pain reliever. "I've learned the hard way that hangovers are no joke after a night of partying. It pays to be prepared."

Lewis gets out of bed as well, wincing slightly at the sudden movement. "I wish I had your foresight," he says sheepishly, a rueful chuckle escaping him. "I seem to forget about the aftermath until it's too late."

Y/n shakes a couple of pills out into her palm, handing him a couple of them along with a bottle of water. "Learn from this experience, then," she suggests with a smirk. "Maybe next time you'll remember the consequences before you drink the night away."

Lewis accepts the pills from Y/n, his expression is still sheepish but his tone still holds some humor. "Yeah, maybe next time I won't find myself accidentally married," he quips, dryly. "Lesson learned."

Y/n can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humor, appreciating his ability to see the lighter side even in such a bizarre situation. "I'm sure we both learned a lot last night," she remarks, her tone lighthearted. "Mostly about the dangers of too much alcohol, I think."

Lewis downs the pills, washing them down with a long gulp of water. He hands the bottle back to her, his expression now a bit more sober and serious. "Yeah, it's definitely a lesson in moderation, among other things," he concurs. "And… communication, it seems."

Y/n takes the bottle back, her eyes meeting his. She understands his meaning - that maybe they should have been more open and communicative with each other before getting into this mess. "You're right," she agrees. "We definitely could have avoided a lot if we'd just… talked first, before…" she trails off, gesturing toward the marriage certificate on the table.

Y/n holds up a hand, signaling that she needs to excuse herself. "I'm going to use the bathroom real quick," she says, her voice a bit quieter now. "Then we can…" She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging, implying they can continue their conversation once she returns.

Lewis nods in understanding, his eyes following her as she leaves the room. Once she's out of earshot, he lets out a long sigh and sits back down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples again. "This is a lot to process," he mutters to himself, his mind swirling with the events of the previous night.

Y/n closes the bathroom door behind her and takes a moment to breathe, trying to gather her thoughts. She leans against the sink, her hands gripping the edges, as she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes still slightly bloodshot from the effects of the previous night's indulgence.

She splashes some cold water on her face, trying to clear her head and shake off the last remnants of the hangover. As she blots her face with a towel, her mind drifts back to the conversation she just had with Lewis, and the magnitude of the situation they now find themselves in settles heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n leans against the wall near the sink, her mind going over their agreement. Stay married temporarily until she inherits, and then divorce. It all sounds so simple, so logical when put like that. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there's more to it, that they're getting into something bigger than they're prepared for.

She looks at herself in the mirror again, her eyes betraying the turmoil inside her. On one hand, she knows they have to go through with this, for the sake of her inheritance and the future of her family's business. But on the other hand, she can't ignore the twinge of guilt and doubt that comes with the decision to play house with almost a stranger.

Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a jumble of pragmatism and uncertainty. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. There will be time to deal with the emotional aspects later, she tells herself. For now, they have to focus on the practicality of the situation, on navigating this new reality of being married, even if it's only temporary.

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

taglist

@nepobbylver

[writingquestionsanswered]

Character Hasn't Experienced Major Trauma

Anonymous asked: I have two of my three characters' arcs worked out, but not the protagonist's. She's just a random teenager before the story starts (normal life/family/parents, yet to be traumatised) so I'm struggling with what background to give her. I don't want to pull the orphan card and can't think of a proper inciting incident since I don't know what her situation is before it all. Any tips on writing ordinary characters?

[Ask edited for length]

First, it's important not to think of a character's past trauma as having to be some horrific event. That's not what emotional wounds are about. They can be, but they certainly don't have to be and normally aren't. Your character's emotional wound can be literally any moment in their past that made them believe something about themselves, someone else, or the world that isn't true, and as such has a profound effect on who they are when the story starts and how they navigate the story in the beginning. It's the starting point of their character arc.

Second, almost everyone has experienced a moment like that by the time we reach our double-digits.

Some examples of emotional wounds that aren't big, horrific events:

emotional wound: strict religious grandma tells you "if something makes you happy, it will probably send you to hell"

lie you believe as a result: you can never enjoy things that make you happy

emotional wound: trusted aunt has a bad break-up and, with mascara running down her face, tells you, "true love is a lie. No one is ever truly happy in love."

lie you believe as a result: when someone says "I love you," they're lying and it's time to bail on the relationship before it falls apart.

emotional wound: best friend's "#relationship goals" parents go through a bitter divorce.

lie you believe as a result: relationships always end in disaster and no one can live happily ever after.

Finally, your story's inciting incident doesn't have to be related to your character's past, and in fact most of the time it isn't. Their response to the inciting incident may be guided by the lie they believe, but even that's not always the case. Sometimes, the emotional wound/lie they believe simply influences how they navigate the story's events and how they are changed by those events.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[flawseer]

Mail Call #3

Answering comments from @void-the-bear @railway-lands @keabirb @ilikebookssomuch @chezgorman @cartoons-everywhere @dragonra305

Please don't hurt me. I have glasses.

Thank you, to all of you. It makes me genuinely happy to know that I'm able to put something into this world that other people can enjoy. I think this is a great setting that is fun to add to.

Doing a Wings of Fire-themed run of this Smaugust challenge has been very interesting and it's good that the result appears to be well-received. It's not always been easy, I'm actually getting quite exhausted having to post content on a strict schedule like this. But it is worth doing if it makes people happy.

Relating to my comment on this post. I probably will do it eventually, along with some other ideas I had that didn't fit in. But it won't happen while Smaugust is still going, as I am already skirting the limits of what I am physically capable of right now.

Ahh... hm... This is the question that has toppled mountains and started wars. You're going to get hit squads sent after me.

Well, there is the big one, of course. Qibli/Winter. They have such wonderful chemistry whenever they are in a scene together (with one pretty upsetting exception). And Qibli is always teasing him about being his destiny and the two of them getting married, so I think there is some attraction there.

Then uh... I used to feel completely ambivalent about this one, but Starflight/Fatespeaker has really grown on me over time. There's a lot of interesting potential there that doesn't really make it into the story. I need to make a long-winded post about Fatespeaker one day.

Blaze/Glacier is another one that could be cute. I think putting a repressed Icewing together with a highly eccentric and rambunctious Sandwing is going to be a winning combination most of the time. Or well, I guess I should say "could have been cute", since Glacier had to die for the plot, in a very wretched and infuriating way too.

There are a couple more that I think have their moments or could be interesting in one way or another. Some of them even contradicting or overlapping each other. Listing all of them would probably be a bit excessive.

Oh yeah, and I think Sunny is ace.

Ah, a question that'll make me put someone else's favorite character at the bottom of a preference list... After the shipping question I'm starting to fear for my life now.

Let me preface this by clarifying that I generally like all of the DoD. There are some characters in this setting that I loathe and wish they would exit the story, and the arc 1 protagonists are nowhere near that. So being ranked low here translates to me saying "Yeah, they're okay, room for improvement", not "wow, they're the WORST!"

Okay whatever, let's get down to it.

#1 - Sunny

That one's easy, I mean, just look at the pinned post on this blog.

Sunny is so wonderful and charming and perfect in every conceivable way, she is one of my six all-time favorite characters. She is the flower that blooms in the bitter desert. A lot of people may perceive her as this demure and innocent character who is always happy and friendly, and oblivious to the suffering around her. Nah, Sunny knows exactly what is going on. She is keenly aware of all the bloodshed, suffering, and toxicity that unfolds in the world around her. When she remains optimistic and forgiving in the face of darkness, that is not her being meek or passive, it's her steadfastly refusing to let that darkness into herself. She is actively embodying the change she wants to see in the world, even when it hurts her or gets her taken advantage of, because that is what she believes in and the future she will create.

That's pretty inspiring. I wish I had that kind of inner strength.

Also, she is not weak. While she's not a powerhouse scrapper like Tsunami or an invincible stack of bricks like Clay, Sunny strikes quickly and without hesitation when her friends are in danger, and can be deviously clever. This is often overlooked, but she is--to my knowledge--the only character to land an attack on Morrowseer that comes close to actually hurting him.

Well... you got me rambling about Sunny. Let's go through the others more briskly.

#2 - Starflight

I like Starflight a lot. Unfortunately the story really doesn't. He is like, the unluckiest character by far. I don't know what he did to deserve the never-ending cavalcade of misfortune that gets shoveled in his direction throughout all three arcs. Like, it never ends. A couple of friends and I came together and we jokingly called our group the "Starflight Protection Foundation", because someone needs to stage an intervention. Like, wrap him in a cozy sweater and buy him hot chocolate or something. Heaven help this poor man.

He's another one of my favorites.

#3 - Glory

Glory is really cool; I vibe with the "unchosen hero spurned by destiny" theme. She goes through her life and is constantly told "No, you don't have a special destiny. You're the fifth wheel. You are worthless and unimportant". Though she struggles with the constant abuse and devaluation, she eventually finds a way to turn it into strength and declare that the only value that matters is the one she gives to herself.

I really wish the story had NOT made her turn out to be a secret princess. "I was born without destiny, so I'm making my own" is a so much more satisfying character trajectory than "Oh, don't worry. You were born special after all, you just didn't know about it".

So yeah, I kind of tend to put that "secret princess" plot twist on the shelf when I think about Glory, and prefer to think that she managed to sway Grandeur with her skill and determination, rather than a random blood link.

#4 - Clay

Clay is very lovable. He is like the emotional bedrock of the group and acts as a stabilizing force that pairs well with all of the other arc 1 protagonists. He pretty much resolves all of his baggage in the first book and becomes content and steady. That is very good for him, but unfortunately this also kind of turns him into just some dude for the following four books.

Which is fine, it is good for the other characters to have someone behind them who loves them and helps them up when they stumble. It just makes it difficult for Clay to shine on his own.

#5 - Tsunami

Okay, so, Tsunami. I actually like her a lot in arc 1. She's bringing an interesting kind of energy to the group that is like, half-supportive and half-detrimental. Very chaotic. She also has to contend with some heavy stuff; everything to do with her father and the complications in her family life. It's very interesting. Lots of places to go with that.

Arc 2 Tsunami though, really grinds my gears. She regresses into this kind of juvenile, immature personality that is just pointlessly abrasive and confrontational. She acts really condescendingly towards Peril-- despite the latter having saved Clay's life AND it being really important to Clay that her staying at JMA works out well. Her borderline sabotaging this effort by making Peril feel unwelcome seems very dismissive towards Clay's feelings. It also doesn't help that she is the most outspoken about her loathing of Nightwing mindreading and prophecies, which drives Moonwatcher further into her emotional shell and makes things more complicated.

Okay, I have to reiterate: I don't dislike Tsunami. I just think her character arc is incomplete. It feels like she is stuck in arrested development while at JMA. She's mostly running around yelling at people, when she really should be thinking about what to do about Queen Coral, and how to get custody of her siblings. Her sister Anemone is carrying emotional scars from how the Queen has kept her leashed like a dog for her entire life, a process that is now happening to Auklet, even to this day. And then there's the 30 something children who have never known parental love for a day in their life and their mother can't remember the names of.

Someone's gotta step in and save these kids. Or like, at least start vaguely thinking about it.

Turtle???

Hmm....

...

Moose!

[gynandromorph]

another nofna style emulation strip... i haven't drawn anything about Legend's HIOT treatment, even though it is kind of important, mostly because... no fight scenes, lots of tiny letters and twisting roots, and its contingency on other events happening first (like it'd be weird to draw her going to HIOT before even drawing the strip with the voice in it). at the same time, most of the information here? totally just restated information already known by the audience--

Resolve looks small compared to JS, but she's actually quite large... they're just very different heights.

(technically you could also call Remitting Dr. Remitting because she is also qualified to treat patients......) The Rationale member is an african savanna hare.

i want to say that Resolve's an interesting character, in that i don't really have strong opinions about her, which usually means They're Complicated, but i'm kind of meh about her. she's just very Normal. eventually i will write a follow-up strip with her and Remitting post-JS-treatment where her relationship to her patients and work is elaborated upon a little. she is almost 46 years old and she has outlived generations of patients -- for short-lived rodents, probably generations in the double digits. she gets to see from admission to death the results of her work, or lack thereof. i wouldn't say that she has a sense of superiority, as i think she tries to cultivate an open-mindedness, but she has so much experience, she can be quick to solidify her thoughts on matters, and she is not easily swayed by dissenting opinions from younger individuals when she knows her opinion will outlive theirs by her mere act of Continuing to Exist.

as demonstrated in Glyptography, it seems that some HIPAA-alike doesn't exist in this society, and HIOT members are free to comment on any patients in their care. still, with a more legally binding case of committal, i decided that there would be one "lead" individual who had legal guardianship over a patient, and, consequently, the final word on their treatment. Parabola described HIOT in a variety of ways, along with its functions, which included "cataloging anomalies" and "behavior oversight." he also noted that cataloging or investigating behaviors was more of an "early" stage of HIOT, whereas modern HIOT ascribes meaning to the findings and formulates legal conclusions (along with, presumably, still monitoring and controlling anomalous behavior). i treated the admission of patients as fairly common, then, perhaps one of HIOT's main purposes at this point, where members would contend with the fact that there was just an endless stream of new people to treat -- their work didn't seem to change anything about the root of the problems they're tending to.

JS failed her metanoia proposal due to incompletion. what she had while sparring with Machinations, was mostly all she still had by the time she was expected to turn in a thesis, albeit she could spell entire words now. her proctor was willing to pass her with a low grade because it WAS undeniable, even if devoid of apparent purpose.

Remitting and Resolve are, like Misgivings, wearing Guthriea capensis, hidden flower, as corsages. Resolve is wearing a female flower, and Remitting is wearing a male flower. it grows hidden under its own leaves, and its nectar is very bitter, driving most pollinators away. i could have used the same flower that smoothie wore, but i Did Not Feel Like It. the Rationale hare is wearing pale everlasting flowers (Helichrysum pallidum). i figured they would all wear the same corsages? but i don't think we've seen a Rationale member clothed... Maybe the wolf official from Syconium, but that's ambiguous. I had Legend wear a rather formal and pricey mantle, because this is a very humiliating situation for her, and I feel she'd dress up to the 9s to compensate for this loss of face. her corsage is large mountain ink flowers (Cycnium racemosum), a semi-parasitic plant which primarily uses sedges and long grasses as hosts. these flowers turn dark like ink when damaged -- hence their name. they can grow very large, up to multiple feet tall, and she has the long stem threaded through the front of her mantle. her paws are covered in abrasions, not dirt, and her claws have been worn down almost to the quicks due to excessive digging and scratching at surfaces like tree bark.

anyway i think that's all i have to say about this one it's not my most interesting strip. it facilitates later strips like legend asking Resolve about false memories or accessing HIOT documents to pass time and developing her thesis with this new knowledge.

[alastors-antlers]

Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part three)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Philip Graves (+ some headcanons including the Shadows), Makarov

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

A/n: I tried so hard to get this one out in time with the other but my other wips are getting to me 😭. I posted twice today just to feed y'all ahaha.

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

König

ꕥ (PLEASE DON'T COME AFTER ME, I DON'T KNOW ANY GERMAN AND I'M USING GOOGLE TRANSLATE)

ꕥ Speaking of König, I don't think this man is the shy boy that some people is making him out to be (not that he doesn't have that side at all, I just feel like they make it his whole personality). Based on voice lines alone this man is cocky asf.

ꕥ There's a reason for his mask, yes he was bullied as a child because of his looks and that's one of the causes to his social anxiety but that doesn't mean this mf is shy. He just like to avoid people and social interactions yk. (Y'all have no idea how much I can relate to this)

ꕥ Has and will continue to use his height to his advantage, someone bothering you while you're both sat having a wonderful time together? This mf stands the fuck up, shoulders back, chest out and everything. Looming over that person while glaring down, arms crossed while they're engulfed by the shadow of this 6'10 behemoth of a man.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? He'll throw you over his shoulders, only using one arm below your ass while he carries you off. Seriously it is no problem to this man, he'd beg you to sit on his face and suffocate him. If anything I'd say he has a preference for it yk, very soft and plush reader for real.

ꕥ Our DIY king here wearing a shirt for a hood, his hair sticking out of the hole for the head whenever he's dressing casual. Play with his hair like right now, you'll make him melt right then and there.

ꕥ Enjoys cuddling, hasn't had many partners and by that I mean kinda none. Nobody was insane enough to approach him till you came around so he's very touch starved. He didn't even know he enjoyed touching that much till he was able to feel the amount of warmth your body gives him. He'd swear on his life that he was intoxicated in that moment.

ꕥ Whenever you sit or straddle on his lap, he's still so fucking tall. I swear you will gain neck pains if you wanna keep eye contact while talking to him. (I understand the struggle, I am a 5'1 girly. Every character I know within the CoD universe is taller than me 😭)

ꕥ Doesn't actually wear his mask around you, he's comfortable and trust you enough to know you wouldn't go around telling everyone what he looks like.

ꕥ Nicknames he'd call you in German are Mein Schatz, Fräulein, Liebling, Engel and Kleine Maus

ꕥ He's still definitely bitter about not being a sniper. (AHAHAHA)

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin

ꕥ (IF I'M BEING HONEST, I DID NOT EXPECT HIS VOICE TO BE THAT DEEP. ALSO HIS VOICE LINES IN KOREAN/HANGUL (IDK WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT)

ꕥ He has doodles on his tactical gear that he did himself (there are also one that are a tribute to squid game because man's had a gambling addiction), has asked you to draw on it too and he proudly wears it when on duty. Will feel stupid while unconsciously smiling if you draw a heart.

ꕥ Writing something down on his vest from your own mother tongue and he's asking the meaning, if it's genuinely something good like a compliment or something like "I love you" then you will catch this man with a shit eating grin.

ꕥ He used to be a gambler before entering the military and it eventually got him to stop, though he still has a thing for risk, he got himself a more deadlier alternative.

ꕥ Expect surprise back hugs, this man isn't called Horangi for nothing. He's stealthy, I like to think that whatever he says to you is well thought out as well. Man knows how to think before he speaks.

ꕥ Horangi likes to pounce on things, just for the fun of it. It leads him to tackle you on your shared bed a lot, lots of play fighting too.

ꕥ HAS THE PRETTIEST EYES EVER. Like seriously, the only people who knows what he looks like is you and König. Had gentle eyes, you know that quote "His eyes softened", yeah that's the definition of his eyes.

ꕥ Loves it when you trace the veins on his arms with your finger nails, will just straight up offer his arm to you.

Keegan P. Russ

ꕥ This man and his panty dropping voice like holy hell I have never heard a voice as deep as his without a vocal fry (from those try hard guys on TikTok who try to hard thinking their thirst traps are good).

ꕥ Calls you "kid" in an affectionate way? It's honestly just what he calls anyone younger than him, you're shorter? He'll emphasize on that shit. Elaborating on the nickname I said earlier, he uses it less when y'all are dating but still does on some occasions.

ꕥ Would say the most dirty and uncalled for things, whispering it in your ears. He's and asshole in the best way possible, loves it when you gasp and playfully slap his chest.

ꕥ He's sweet though, would see you as his wife even if you're not married. You're his now, the moment you entered his life, he basically had a death grip on you.

ꕥ Something tells me that he likes talking about you or to you through radios yk. His voice sounding even deeper through the device, calling you doll even though he's supposed to refer to you with your call sign.

ꕥ Praise kink? I mean you've more likely heard his voice lines, is the type of man to praise you and ruffle your hair, either that or he'll kiss you depending on what stage of your relationship you are both in.

ꕥ Constantly thinks his eyes are weird even though they aren't, he just has sleepy eyes. Speaking of sleeping, I feel like he has such a fucked up sleeping schedule and is used to pulling all nighters more than the normal person.

ꕥ Will drag you in bed though and lay his whole weight on top of you because you ain't going nowhere, you are staying there with him and only him.

Philip Graves

ꕥ (If it isn't "Fix It Felix", please tell me I'm not the only one who sees it AHAHAHA)

ꕥ Philip is touchy, somebody for the love of everything that is holy cuddle this man please. He is just screaming at any type of physical contact at this point. (My sources? Right fucking here)

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to come home to you and just hug you, y'all would be there for a solid 10 minutes before he lets you go. Burying his head into your neck and just inhaling your scent while having his arms wrapped tightly around you.

ꕥ His Shadows? More like his fucking children, again going back to the TikTok. He knows how to get their attention, the little pats on the shoulder and small praises are his way of saying they did a good job and they're eating it up.

ꕥ That being said, you are either gonna be their mother figure or someone they enjoy protecting because their dad is so fond of you. Why not be both right?

ꕥ You cannot tell me this man won't be next to the grill, spatula, tongs or whatever kitchen utensil in one hand and a cold bottle of beer in the other.

ꕥ Spends his weekends with you on his lap while he watches football in your guys' couch, you're definitely scrolling on your phone during this.

ꕥ You cannot tell me this man doesn't wear cowboy hats and boots because he certainly does, is it a turn on or a turn off? I genuinely do not know..

ꕥ Is fruity on some aspects but would never fucking admit it..

Makarov

ꕥ Y'ALL ACTUALLY THOUGHT I'D WRITE FOR THIS MAN? NAH THIS ACC IS WHOLESOME (OR ANGSTY) AND ION THINK THIS MAN IS SALVAGEABLE. (This came from a girl who once was obsessed with Tom Riddle for years when she was 13, I recovered from it dw)

ꕥ This man would literally use anyone and anything as leverage for whatever he wants to achieve. (Yes I am one of those "I can fix him" people but damn idk if this man is fixable)

ꕥ Please don't tell me you actually genuinely think this man would be good to you.. I knew what I was writing was unrealistic but damn y'all are delulu on another level (so am I, stay delulu). Jokes aside I love y'all and he's one of the few I won't write for. (AHEM Severus Snape (that greasy mop haired mf)

ꕥ And yes I understand most of my shit are kind of OOC but damn if I wrote him, it would be extremely fucking far from canon and I don't like romanticizing toxic relationships (if I ever do write it, it will be angst and I can't ever promise a happy ending).

ꕥ Happy April fool's! (I know I'm posting this end of September (it's actually October now 😭)

[delopsia]

ride the lightning | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, slice of life, Rhett's shoulder injury, showering together, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, food, absolutely zero plot to this one. Brief Summary: What's more fun than a post-rodeo party? Running off and having your own personal rodeo right before the storm hits.  

"You've got to quit eyeing those cowboys," Autumn's already chiding you, her words distorted by the glass resting against her bottom lip. 

Hesitant, your gaze drifts back to her. Weren't quite done scanning the room, but if you don't stop now, then you'll lose the luxury of feigning stupidity. "What do you mean?" 

"You're not slick!" She pauses, taking a sip of the liquid gold that fills her cup, the taste so bitter that her nose wrinkles. "I see you looking over there." 

"Because I'm looking for someone," you chirp, your nail tapping against the table as you begin to look around again. 

There was no way that wasn't his truck out in the parking lot. You'd know that aftermarket lightbar anywhere. But you don't see him. Not by the jukebox or the pool table. Hell, he's not even with his buddy Archie over there beside the empty water trough. 

"It's that bull rider from the rodeo, ain't it." Autumn's hit the nail on the head, and she knows it. Swirling the ice in her glass, grin growing wider with every second that passes. "You sure have a type."

It's not as if you could ever defend yourself from that accusation, but you're leaning forward, voice low as you whisper. "Yeah, like you don't have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"Blue-eyed blondes with money." She tips her glass at you as if to further her correction. It's not until after she's downed another greedy gulp of beer that she opens her mouth again.  "At least we have the eye thing in common."

All the men in the world, and here you two have picked men that happen to be neighbors. Arch enemies at that. Classic, century-old feud stuff. At this point, they don't hate each other for a reason; they do it for tradition.

You reckon a family hobby would be healthier, but that's not your dog, and it's certainly not your fight.

...not yet, at least. 

"At what point are we obligated to hate each other?" Dipping a finger into your drink as you speak, mindlessly swirling the ice until it forms its own little whirlpool. It's pretty to look at. Blue in color, with a little cherry and framed in a dainty glass, but whoever mixed this gave you all tequila and no juice. 

She hums, looking at something behind your head. "Whenever someone coughs up a half-mil."

Your finger stops, feeling the alcohol keep spinning past your finger. The cherry stem scrapes your skin. "Our friendship is only worth half a million to you?" 

"No," her eyes finally dart back to you, glinting in the light, "but that's how much is in Luke's checking account."

You don't even want to know how or why someone would have that much money ready to spend at a moment's notice. Or, better yet, where the hell that money came from.

Whatever is behind you, Autumn seems pretty interested in it, and you've got a good enough guess that it's the face of a man you're not interested in seeing. If you make eye contact, he'll take that as an invitation. 

Music sparks to life, blaring from a pair of cheap speakers somewhere on your left. You vaguely recognize the start of the song, but you're too busy scanning the crowd to pay attention to the lyrics. There are so many cowboy hats that you can't even cling to your usual method of finding him. Fuck, and hardly anyone has taken off their rodeo chaps. How are you supposed to—

There he is, beside the coolers. Red solo cup in hand, full of what you can only assume is more cheap beer. 

He's already looking at you, the corner of his lip lifting as you meet his gaze. 

"Speaking of," Autumn's already beginning to get up, the plastic table jolting as her hip bumps into it. "I just found who I was looking for."

"Have fun," pausing to glance at who she's so focused on. You're not sure why you expected it to be anyone other than Luke. "Try not to show up on the Abbott ranch with another hangover."

"No promises!" And just like that, she's left you. 

If history is anything to go off of, she'll charm him into driving her around in one of those fancy sports cars again. You've got a feeling that she's gonna be up in Jackson before sunrise, nestled in a fancy hotel for the weekend. 

"'s this seat taken?" 

You recognize that voice.

You've got to tilt your head to see him. Towering over you like some kind of giant, all broad shoulders and scruffy as can be, rodeo dirt still decorating his unshaven jaw. He hasn't even bothered to change out of his flannel, the ripped upper sleeve falling open to reveal the thick bicep lurking underneath. The left one sits a little awkwardly. Higher. An old injury aggravated by tonight's ride.

You want to climb him like a damn tree. 

"Maybe it is." Coy.

"Oh really?" His head cocks off to the side, hair falling into his face. "Who's it for?"

You've already got an answer brewing, but you hold it on your tongue for a moment, feigning thought. "His name is Rhett."

He hums. "Never heard of him." 

Silence. 

And then—

Rhett's laugh twists through the air like a melody, the plastic chair squeaking as he all but falls into the poor thing. One of these days, he's gonna do that, and it'll snap in two, but today doesn't seem to be that day. 

His hand motions toward the lone drink resting on the table, with its obnoxious blue color and lone cherry still swirling from when you toyed with it. "What's that?"

"Something terrible," you're already lifting the glass, holding it out for him to take. 

It's strange seeing him sipping from a dainty cocktail glass. Looks so much smaller when it's in his hand. You're not even sure if he notices the severe lack of juice, entirely unphased by the tequila that greets him. The cherry slips between his parted lips, the stem catching between them. 

"I thought you didn't like cherries?" Your head tilts to the side, curious. 

"I don't." His brow furrows, all too focused on something that you can't see. "But I like doin' this." Before you can begin to process what he's just said, his mouth opens, a tied cherry stem resting on top of his tongue. 

And here you thought you'd seen it all from him. "Is this your new party trick?" 

"Somethin' like that," the stem falls, landing somewhere that you don't see. Maybe you would know if you weren't too busy watching him lean forward, eyes sparkling with something he has yet to share. "Hey, do y' wanna get outta here?" 

"Not having fun?" Your answer is yes, but you're not sharing that yet. 

"I am, but..." then, lowering his voice, as if there's a risk of someone hearing him over the booming music, "'s more fun when it's just us."

You don't know where he's planning to go after this, but you're sold.

"I still can't believe you!" The squeal of the passenger door nearly drowns out your giggles, plastic grocery bags rustling as you climb out of the truck. 

You haven't the slightest clue which bag has the popcorn and which contains the chips, but the weight of the drinks is painfully obvious, the plastic handles rubbing uncomfortably against your arms. Curse the cashier for cramming all the bottles into one bag.

"Yeah, like you ain't never distracted me so you could pay for somethin'." Rhett's still laughing, that big cocky grin plastered across his face.

"But I never pretended I lost my keys!" Raising your voice for added effect, rounding the back of the truck. 

He's already beaten you here, opening the beaten tailgate. "Maybe ya should've." Wink.

Your eyes roll so hard that it hurts. "I'll remember that for the next time we get snacks."

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, pushing just hard enough to make you sway. "You'll forget." 

"I'll forget." Immediate acceptance. You've sung this tune so many times that even you know that you never follow through in the end. 

The back of his truck is a damn mess; square bales of hay, two empty gas cans, the shredded remnants of a flannel, a handsaw, and you think that's a bag of chicken feed over there in the back corner. The tailgate is the only open space for you to set the bags on, and it's only now that you realize how many snacks you've actually gotten.

"We probably should have gotten dinner at Odessa's instead," you find yourself saying as you poke through one of the bags. Where in the world are those candies you got?

He reaches past you, plucking a stray screwdriver out of the mess that is his truck bed. Something tells you that he's been looking for that. "What makes ya say that?" 

"Look at all the junk we got!" Opening up one of the bags for him to see, as if he wasn't there when you both picked out and bought these things. 

But Rhett just shrugs, "Don't see nothin' wrong with it."  

Hypothetically, it shouldn't take you that long to find your candy. There are only five bags, but even as you poke through them all, you don't see that brightly colored packaging anywhere. But you know they were rung up. They're on the damn receipt! So where the hell...did you miss them somehow?

By the time you find them sitting in the front seat, nestled up against Rhett's lost bag of sunflower seeds, he's already set up the blankets. Thick, old things layered on top of each other as a makeshift cushion, protecting you from the rocky ground lurking beneath the grass. One of the downsides of choosing a pasture to lounge in, you suppose. 

He's already sitting on the corner of his makeshift blanket nest, half-lidded eyes drinking you in as you settle down next to him, your knee clumsily knocking into his thigh. You'd pay attention to him if you weren't too focused on this box of candy, pushing your thumb under the thin cardboard edge, forcing it open. 

Weight appears on your shoulder. 

Those Western romances always talk about the allure of a stoic, gunslinging cowboy, weathered by the elements and the human definition of fearless. They always fail to mention the cowboys who blink up at you like a puppy, too shy to verbally beg for a piece of your snack. 

"Do you want something?" Dipping your fingers into the box, pulling out one of the candies.

Rhett hums. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. It's one of those sounds that you've heard enough times to know what it means, already lifting the first piece of candy to his lips. The scruff of his chin tickles your skin when he takes it.

Blind, your hand feels along his face, stealing away the overwhelming warmth residing there, drinking in the soft drag of his facial hair, finally at that perfect length where it no longer feels like sandpaper but has yet to begin looking like the beginnings of a beard. His tongue presses on the soft inside of his cheek, pushing against your fingers.

"Quit that!" You squeal, yanking your hand back.

"'s it really feel that weird?" His head tilts, and you don't need to look to know that he's peeking up at you.

"Yes!" And there might be more to add to that, but you're pushing one of the candies into your mouth, the sweetness effectively shutting you up. Remaining quiet even as he tilts his head to press a prickly kiss to the side of your neck, such a simple gesture that should not have your lower belly twisting with something familiar.

You've got to think about something else. Something that doesn't involve jumping on and biting him like a flea. Sucking hard on that little piece of candy, eyes scurrying for something to look at. But all you're finding is darkness and more darkness.

No lampposts or porch lights or flickering campfires, just the pale glow of the moon and the speckling of stars hanging in the sky. There are so many of them up there. Almost looks as if someone has dumped a bottle of glitter atop a roll of never-ending black velvet fabric, twinkling proudly against their backdrop of nothingness. 

The weight on your shoulder disappears. Leaves behind an absurd sense of coldness as he gets up to fetch something from the truck. Odd, how you never seem to realize how warm he is until after he's gone. 

Even the poor lighting can't hinder you from taking him in. The rodeo spurs clinging to his muddied boots. The leather chaps that hang low on his hips, with the thin little buckles in the back that squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. You know there's a reason for them to be there, but the irrational part of your brain reckons they exist solely to make you dizzy. 

"Are you ever going to take those chaps off?" You find yourself asking, after a moment, dragging your gaze away from his ass. 

Rhett freezes, his hand still wedged in the plastic bag as he looks down at his own two legs. "Eventually," he pauses, cracking open one of the cans. You haven't a doubt in your mind that it's one of those spiked lemonades he's recently discovered. "Whenever my shoulder loosens up enough t' let me mess with it."

"Need help?" Words firing off your tongue before you can process what they mean.

The black and yellow can lifts to his mouth, poorly concealing the upward turn of his lips. "I ain't never said no to you undressin' me, doll."

One little sentence, and you've forgotten about your candy entirely, letting it fall onto the blankets without any care for whether or not it spills. You've hardly got to move; settling onto your knees is more than enough. He steps forward, standing right on the edge of the blanket, that oversized buckle glimmering in the moonlight. Your fingertips brush over the edge of it, dented from the hoof of last week's bull.

"I thought the clasp broke on this?" Audibly tapping a nail against it as you make your way to the much smaller buckle hanging underneath. Not thin or frail by any means, but the contrasting sizes isn't doing it any favors. 

Your fingers hook beneath the belt, tugging on the tiny strip of leather until he gets the hint.

He grunts, boots shuffling as you drag him forward. "Nothin' a little weldin' couldn't fix." 

It's easier to see the awkward hang of his left shoulder from down here, tense and lifted higher than the right one, like someone's wound the muscle too tight. Maybe that dislocation would have healed correctly if he agreed to that hospital visit. But...here you are.

All you've got to do is pull the leather strap backward, and the prong pops out of the hole. For such tough-looking chaps, they sure come off easily. One weak tug is all it takes to have them falling down his legs, falling as quickly as you'll let them, hands gliding down the sides of his thighs and past his bony knees, eating up as much time as you can.

It's a shame that you don't need to undo the buckles around his thighs, too; you wouldn't mind the tedious process of helping him buckle them back up, either. But it's too late for that. You've already gotten the leather past one of his boots, working it over the other just as quickly. 

Even as you set those old chaps to the side, Rhett doesn't make much of an effort to move, standing idle as you fold them. Eyes locked with yours, transfixed by the simple image of you on your knees, right in front of him. You know what he's thinking. You're thinking it, too. Memories so prominent in your mind that you're already beginning to act on them.

Something booms in the distance. A deep noise that rolls through the pasture like a warning of something more to come. You think that's lightning, you see, flickering in the corner of your eye, but you're not paying attention. You can't. Not when your hands are moving on their own whims, gliding up the sides of his thighs. 

Rhett's hum echoes into his half-empty can. Seems to carry for miles. "Didn't realize we were gettin' another storm."

His breath hitches. Eyelashes fluttering. 

Your hand drifts across the tent in his jeans once more. Warm. Growing heavier with every passing second. "Think we have time?" You ask as if you don't already know the answer. As if there isn't a sudden heat flushing between your legs, the voice in your head impatiently demanding that you hurry up and pinch open his belt.

"'n here y' say I'm the one with a problem," but just like that, he's sinking to his knees. Face to face, all too quickly. 

"It's not my fault that you look like...that!"  Floundering for an escape from the situation you've created all by yourself. 

One side of his mouth quirks upward, that lopsided smile so bright that it ought to put the sun to shame. Wind rips past, nudging his hair out from behind his ear and into his face, but it does nothing to hide his pretty face. Scruffy as it may be.

It must be the breeze that nudges you forward because you don't feel yourself moving. But you're leaning forward, mouth blindly clashing with his. A little too far to the right at first, and then his hair is in the way, and...

oh.

You've missed this. 

It's hardly been a few hours since the last time, but your heart argues that it's been a lifetime and a half. One little chaste peck, and then another, and another, and another, until you cease to part ways altogether. Those big arms wind around you, his palm pressing into the small of your spine, drawing you up against him.

And you're melting into him like ice cream in the summer sun, any semblance of control vanishing alongside it. Hands roaming up the broad expanse of his chest, tickling against his neck, curling around his prickly jaw, tangling in the curls resting at his nape. Your touch is nothing special, and yet he groans into your kiss anyhow. 

Callouses catch on the soft skin of your lower back, his hands shamelessly wandering beneath your shirt. Pulling it off is tempting, but Rhett's lemonade-flavoured tongue is licking into your mouth, and the wind whispers that you don't have the time for that kind of luxury. Not if you don't want to get rained on by another one of Wabangs popup storms. 

But you do have time to reach for his flannel, dragging your finger through the buttons, audibly snapping apart at record speeds. He needs to wear pearl snap flannels more often.

"Shit," he's gasping against your lips, breaking apart for the slightest of seconds, "'s a lil cold."

The world spins around you. Back hitting the ground with all the grace and ease of a newborn deer. A bolt of lightning tears across the sky, set off by the burning hands that appear on your hips, tugging at your waistband. Your body lifts, and they're gone. You're not even sure what has become of your shoes. Don't recall feeling them come off, but your socked feet are sliding against the blanket, fighting for purchase. 

Rhett's eyes snap shut, squeezing so tight that his forehead wrinkles with the effort. 

"What hurts?" You already know that look. Already have a vague idea of what could be bugging him. 

"Shoulder," speaking through gritted teeth, not bothering to ease up, as if relaxing his jaw could bring on another wave of pain. "moved it too fast." Slower this time, he leans forward, hands falling onto either side of you, and—

"Shit." He's hissing under his breath. Sounds more like a snake than a man. There's no way that he's going to be able to put weight on that left arm, not with his shoulder visibly twitching, sent into an angry spasm. 

"This isn't gonna work," you whisper, chasing the dwindling hope that your words will reach his ears but not his already sore ego. 

Rhett hasn't even opened his eyes, but he's already shaking his head. Stubborn to the end. You know what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. "Hold on, if you give me a second..."

You've already got an idea. "Lay on your back." Your hands find his chest, gently pressing until he gets the message, limbs awkwardly tangling as you exchange positions. Straddling his plush thighs, settled a little bit lower than you'd intended.

It's not quite what you originally had in mind, but you've never been one to complain about riding a cowboy, already beginning to reach for his belt buckle. You don't know how you found this difficult when you first got together; all it takes is the slightest motion, and it pops open. Then comes his belt and the crooked zipper that struggles to run down the tracks.

His hips jerk, thighs smacking into your ass. "Not that I'm complainin', darlin'," there's a weakness to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. Like he's run a marathon in the time it took you to blink. "'s there somethin' rilin' you up?"

"No." Then, smiling, "Just you."

Blue eyes dart away. Looking off to the side. "Oh."

If it were lighter outside, you think you'd catch a whisper of a blush coloring his cheeks, but your vision has been reduced to dark blobs of color. Can't even tell what color his boxers are, even when your hand dips through the front of them, blindly reaching until—

Rhett sucks in a breath. 

It's hardly been a few minutes, and yet he's already so damn heavy. Thick in your grasp, a bead of precum running down the underside of his tip. Your thumb swipes across it, dragging it back up to his plush cock head.

"You're already so wet, cowboy," you muse, lazily tracing circles around his slit. There's so much of it. Dripping like a damn faucet, so much precum that you can see the glisten of it in the darkness. 

Thunder rumbles to your left. Closer now. But you just can't help yourself. 

Your mouth finds the underside of his cock. Pressing kisses onto the vein that runs along there, working your way up from his base. Tongue lazily poking out to swirl around his head, so used to the saltiness of his precum that you hardly even notice it. One of those advantages that comes with knowing him like the back of your hand. 

Like how you know that the delicate scrape of your teeth will make him—

"Ah!" Sharp. Pitchy. The closest thing you'll get to a squeal, the kind of sound that has your thighs trying to squeeze together, suddenly warm. 

Something in your jaw pops as you take him into your mouth. Sucking lazily, like you're savoring a piece of candy, not even making an effort to stop the drool from slipping past your lips. The wetter the better. Because you're pretty sure you know the answer to the question you're about to ask.

"Condom?" Pulling off of him with a soft 'pop.' 

Rhett's head tilts toward the truck, brow furrowing, visibly thinking for a moment. Then, his lips flatten into a line. "'s in my jeans at home."

Thunder rumbles once more, urging your already racing thoughts to scramble even faster. Pulling out could be an option if not for the fact that it's never worked out for you in the past, always seeming to forget in your final moments. Riding in that bouncy passenger seat with his cum leaking out of you has never been the most comfortable thing. Cleaning up is the worst, but...

Fuck, you really can't seem to make yourself care about any of that.

Rhett's belly flexes with the effort to sit up, his right elbow bracing his weight. A familiar blob of black peeks out from beneath his open flannel, that old bucking bull tattoo. Under the thin veil of darkness, it's easy to convince yourself that it's brand new. That the poor-quality ink hasn't caused it to fade quicker than it should have. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "What're ya thinkin'?" 

"A little mess never hurt anyone," you don't know if you're talking to him or yourself. Maybe both. 

You don't realize how close you are until your noses clash, knocking together as you squirm up to settle in his lap. His left hand finds its way to your hip, burning against your chilly skin. Doesn't do anything more than rest there, touching you for the sake of touching you. 

It's a bit crude, reaching down to pull your underwear to the side rather than pulling them off entirely. But then you're guiding him up, and his dripping tip is dragging through your folds, and you can't think about anything else. 

"You're just as bad as I am," Rhett's laugh is so much bigger than any of that distant thunder, rumbling through you in delicate waves. 

"Like this hasn't been a known fact for years," and for that statement of his alone, you're stringing this out even longer. Bringing him back up before he can begin to sink into you, selfishly rubbing him against your clit, sensitive from lack of attention.

Lightning flickers. Rhett's hips shift, slipping back down your cunt, stubbornly nudging against your entrance. Manages to lift himself enough to create a blooming pressure there, the very tip of him slipping inside. 

Fuck, you're still aching from the bit of fun you had before the rodeo. Tangled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the rapidly ticking clock. Or maybe the discomfort is from the severe lack of lube. Nothing but spit, precum, and your own wetness to soothe the drag of him as you begin to sink down on him.

"Mmph," Rhett's head tilts back, pale throat exposed. "How're you so—shit. How're you still so damn tight?"

On its own, something in your lower belly loosens, almost as if it didn't realize it was doing it in the first place. Allows you the fleeting courtesy of a breath of air before his tip fully slips into you. Heat jumps up your spine, swirling around in the back of your head. 

"I should ask you the same thing," your voice comes out weaker than what you anticipated, "why are you so damn big?"

And all that's done is make him laugh again. Nose nudging your cheek as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his smile too big for it to be anything more than a peck. But you want more, chasing after him as he tries to lean away, helpless to do anything but fall forward. 

Gravity quickens the glide of your body, his cock sinking further into you. The curve of him rubs into a set of nerves, never has taken very long for him to find them, thick length incessantly dragging against it. 

A heavy fist strikes the land to the west, the resounding boom washing over the surprised grunt that wrangles its way out of Rhett's throat. The only reason you catch note of it is from the way it rumbles against your bottom lip, pulling the corners of your mouth up into a giddy smile. 

All too quickly, you're fully seated in his lap, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Bodies carved to fit seamlessly against one another, lost in the blending of limbs, tangling until you can no longer tell where one of you begins and the other ends. A shiver races up your spine, pussy involuntarily spasming around his thick cock. 

"Didn't think I was gonna be the one gettin' ridden tonight," there's no reason for Rhett to be grinning up at you like this, with that healing split in his lip and those glistening eyes. Mesermized. As if he's taking in the sight of a precious painting lost for centuries. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was looking at the stars behind your head.

But he's only looking at you. 

It's got you lifting yourself a little too quickly; haven't even begun to adjust to his size yet. "You'd better hope it lasts longer than eight seconds."

Something sharp digs into your knee as you lift yourself, but it's impossible to pay attention to. So fucking full of him that your every racing thought has wrapped itself around the shape of his name. Oh, and it's not helped by the burning drag of his cock; a little too big for you to be riding him without lube. 

You're sinking back down when his hips lips, snapping up into you midway. Fuck, you're burning alive out here. Growing wetter from that little motion alone, that tingling heat climbing your spine and settling into your cheeks. 

"Impatient," you're huffing, lacking any bit of the conviction you'd hoped you would have.

"Them bulls buck, y'know," that smug grin of his falters as your hips swivel, readjusting yourself, "'m just playin' my part."

So annoying. 

So, so annoying.

Something about the change in an angle has him rubbing up against something he hadn't before, air catching in your throat as he presses directly into it. Shit, it's too early for your thighs to be shivering like they are, and it's all you can do to flatten your palms against his chest, forcing yourself to remain upright. 

"Keep—mmh keep doin' that." Stupid cowboys and their stupidly pretty whines. Has no right to be squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head back and forth like he's trying to shake the feel of you out of his head.

And he just keeps rubbing against those little nerves, over and over and over. Stars sparkle across your vision, so many of them that you can no longer tell which hang high in the sky and which stem from your own imagination. Whether or not that's thunder or the hammer of your own heart, you're not even remotely sure. 

A stray hand meanders up your back, his touch so feather-light and ticklish that it's got you arching away from it. Unintentionally angling him into those soft little spots even more, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that you nearly freeze in place. 

You hardly feel yourself reaching for his wrists. Only recognize the feel of them in your grasp, thick and strong from years of manual labor, yet so willing to be pinned over his head. Falling into place like they always longed to be there.

"Fuck," Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a noise that you wish you could have caught, "so fuckin' pretty on top of me." 

"And here I thought you were marveling at the storm," panting into the open air like a damn dog, breathless all too quickly. As if the slow rise and fall of your hips is simply too much for you to handle. 

Rhett's biceps flex, muscle visibly rippling as the thunder crackles. "Nah," grunting, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "could watch y' ride me all fuckin' day." 

God, what is it about sex that makes him so fucking talkative?

Your hand darts out to the side. Blindly patting the blankets until you find one of the candies that spilled out of the container, shoving it past his parted lips before he can utter another word.

His mouth wobbles. Torn between a smile and something he wants to say. Neither manages to win the upper hand, instead beaten by a secret third thing. Because now he's sitting up, wearily bracing himself on that good arm, eyes falling shut midway as he leans in to kiss you. Knocking into each other so abruptly that your teeth audibly clatter.

But the wind is twirling past you with a kind of ferocity that wasn't there before, and in the back of your mind you're convinced that you've inadvertently caused it to happen. Distant storm falling into a rage as you tumble forward, forearms resting on either side of his head, hands in his hair, drowning yourself in the lemonade and candy that paints his tongue. 

Something sparks behind your eyes. "Rhett..."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't need to. The lift of his hips is more than enough of a reply, so sudden that it rips a sharp noise out of your throat. A decade of bull riding has made him too fucking strong for his own good, pushing up into you with devastating ease. 

This...thisis something. His breath tickling your skin. Your chest against his, nails scraping at his scalp. Helpless to do nothing but whine as he brushes against those little spots once more. Long, heaving motions that jostle you with every thrust, your eyes already struggling to remain open. 

"Rhett," repeating yourself like a broken record, panting into his ear like you're getting paid to do it.

The ground shakes. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, volting through the soil, up through your knees, and into your belly. Or maybe it's not lightning at all, simply the dizzying sensation of his cock driving up into you with a sickeningly wet noise. You can't help the way your legs squeeze impossibly tight around him. Can't stop the familiar tingle from settling into your core, spreading down into your thighs. 

You don't remember when the babbling started, but you can hear the sound of your name twisting through the air, chanting beneath his breath like a melody. His prickly cheek rubs against yours, and you just know that it's going to leave your skin raw, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. 

"'m gonna..." the rasp of his voice has you clamping tighter around him. A whimper slips off his tongue. "I—"

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. One look is all you need. 

You are, too. 

There's no need for you to reach down and touch yourself. His cock alone is enough to have you crumbling like a house of cards, burying your head into the crook of his neck, unable to muffle every little noise he punches out of you. Downright merciless as he rubs into those sensitive little nerves over and over and over and—

A ghost of wind is enough to push you over the edge. Tumbling over the edge and into the abyss, the world around you going quiet as you cum around his cock. Not a sound breaking past your lips, head swirling round and round until you can no longer tell which way is up. 

You're only distantly aware of the sudden stalling of Rhett's hips, pushing up into you so hard that he lifts you up. Can't miss the sensation of his cock twitching, his cum spilling into your pussy, rope after rope of it, so much that you think you can feel it pooling inside of you.

A drop of rain hits your shoulder. Cold. Biting into your skin with its sharp little teeth. 

The storm is so much closer now, thick clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the stars entirely. Electricity arcs across the sky as you begin to lift yourself up before your body is even ready to move. 

Rhett's cock slips out of you with an awkward noise, slapping audibly against his belly. Shit, you can already feel it beginning to spill out, don't know how you plan to get home without making a mess of your clothes. 

A groan sounds from below you. "So fuckin' full of it," the soft tip of his cock presses back into you, and you don't need to look to know that Rhett's eyes are fixated on the obscene sight of his cum leaking out of you. "God damn."

"Well, don't...mmh, don't keep pushing it in," but your complaint is futile, and you're making no effort to try and stop him. No point in it, you suppose; it's not as if you can clean yourself up out here. 

He chuckles at that. You think the stars have secretly gathered in his eyes, sparkling in those deep blues. "Can't do nothin' 'bout it now."

"Hold on!" Your giggles echo through the kitchen, wet feet stumbling across the tile. "I can't move that fast!" 

But Rhett's hand keeps tugging you along, sliding around the corner and into the hallway. Water pours from his hair and shoulders, speckling across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. A mess that you'd complain about if not for your own soaked clothes, so cold that you've gone entirely numb. 

Lights flicker overhead, power fading in and out as the storm rages on. Rain striking the windows so hard that you can hear it, even as you fumble down the hallway. Wet socks slide against the tile as you try to turn, your shoulder bumping into Rhett's. His hip smacks into the door frame. Your feet tangle. 

"We ain't never doin' that again," he's stumbling toward the shower, reaching for the knobs. Twists until he can't crank the hot water up any hotter. Something, anything to melt away the ice that's about to freeze over your skin.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. "I thought you liked having sex outside."

"I do," he pauses, pulling the material over your head. It audibly hits the floor, the beginnings of yet another mess. "I don't like downpours 'n hail!" 

The red mark on his forehead is only just beginning to bloom, sure to darken as the night rages on. It's a little too high up to be blamed on a bar fight, but you're sure he'll find a way to play it off when his momma asks about what happened. 

Your pants are on the floor before he can finish getting his flannel off, not a care in the world for where they land. Your mind only has enough room for one thought at a time: hot water. A cloud of steam greets you as you step into the shower. The water has yet to hit your skin, and yet you can already feel yourself melting, the heat eating away at the invisible frost that has long since settled upon you. 

It's almost too hot, the spray seeming to burn little holes straight through your chest, and your toes sting. Such a sharp contrast compared to the heat that you wonder if it'll eat you alive.

A firm chest presses against your naked back, familiar arms settling loosely around your waist. "Y' jus' gonna leave me behind like that?" His attempt at sounding irritated doesn't miss your ears, but it dies before he can finish the sentence. Isn't helped by the kisses that appear on your shoulder.  

"If you can ride bulls, then you can climb into the shower by yourself," leaning back into him, your eyes fall closed. It might be the first time you've blinked since the rain began to fall, starting the moment you'd begun gathering the blankets into your arms. Mother Nature's punishment for not taking her warnings seriously.

Rhett hums, the vibration tickling the side of your neck. "Then." Kiss. "I should probably." Kiss. "Tell you." Kiss. "That we didn't bring any clean clothes..." Kiss. "Or towels."

...the towels. 

Your groan bounces off the tile walls and out into the hallway, probably even ventures past the closet and out into the living room. Why did it never occur to you to grab towels and clothes before you climbed in here?

"We'll rock paper scissors it after we rinse off," it's the same solution he uses for every conflict, but you find yourself agreeing with the idea anyway. 

He loses. Never deviates from playing rock, even when he knows full well that you will forever play paper. You're not sure if he's waiting for the day that you crack and play scissors or if he's intentionally losing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion it's the latter. He's way too content to dart into the hallway for towels, returning with more than either of you could possibly need.

"Did you grab every towel in the closet?" You laugh as you pull one of them around your shoulders, hugging it to yourself like a blanket. It's too damn cold in this house.

"No," then, grinning, "I left one behind."

He's gone before you've finished drying off, comes back one more time with your favorite pajamas in his hand, then disappears into the darkness of the house. Where he's gone, you're not sure; it's hard to tell when he never turns any of the lights on, navigating based on muscle memory alone. 

But you can hear the television turning on, your forgotten movie picking up right where it left off. 

"Rhett?" Calling out as you mosey out of the bathroom.

Damp carpet squishes beneath your feet, frigid and not at all what you expected to find yourself standing on. Only seems to get worse as you make your way down the hall, hopelessly soaked with rainwater. The old fan is already out, cool air blowing across the worst of it, licking at your heels when you step past.

Rhett's pale shoulders stick out like a sore thumb in the living room. All too visible as he moves around, hands audibly patting something down on the couch. Blankets. The ones off the bed, out of the closet, hell, he's grabbed the decorative one off the rocking chair. All to build an oversized nest, high around the edges, like he's trying to keep something out. So focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice you until it's too late.

"Jesus!" His naked back jumps away from you as if burned by your kiss.

"Watcha buildin'?" Your speech mimicking his just a little more than usual, already leaning in to press a second kiss in between the knobs of his spine. Rhett twists in your arms before you can land a third, the swell of his chest mere inches from your lips now.

You'll smooch him here, too. 

"Our last line of defense," his giggle rides on the coattails of another roll of thunder. "Jus' in case that storm knocks out the power 'n steals our heat."

You don't realize his arms are around you until he's falling toward the couch, taking you right along with him, landing in a messy heap on top of the blankets. A box of candy rattles behind your back. Someone bumps into the remote, the movie pausing on the television screen. 

A piece of the candy bounces off your chin, narrowly misses landing back in Rhett's hand. You find it squished between your chests, pushing it between his parted lips. 

"Y' gonna keep force feedin' me candy?" He asks, that little candy rolling across his tongue as he speaks. Wonder if you'll be able to taste it if you kiss him. 

You lean in, nuzzling your noses together. "It's my new party trick."

His eyes roll so hard that you hope they'll get stuck. 

[blueeyedheizer]

Hello! Can I suggest a Cassie Howard x little brother reader (who’s the same age as Lexi), it can be an angst to fluff (or storage up angst fic I’m not picky) where Cassie and the reader are arguing over Cassie sleeping with Nate because she knew the reader had a crush on Maddy and she basically ruined that for him. (I can’t write good and I know you like feed back on your post so I’m going to say it now that if you do it then it’ll be great).

I don't usually write for male readers so hopefully this isn't too bad!

"you really had to go and ruin everything, huh?" you deadpan, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as you lean against the doorframe. “are you happy now? did you get the attention you wanted?”

cassie spins around, her eyes widening in shock. “wh...what are you talking about?” she stammers, though the guilt in her expression says she already knows.

“don't play that game with me.” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. "out of all the boys you could have, you chose to fuck nate?!"

cassie's mouth opens in shock — then she closes it again. "how did you—"

"that doesn't matter, cassie. fuck, this is wrong on so many levels. what were you thinking?!”

“I’m sorry!” she blurts out, tears already forming in her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay? It just… it just happened. I never wanted to hurt you or maddy.”

“didn't want to hurt us?” you echo, letting out a bitter, humorless laugh. "you knew how much I like maddy! you knew, and you didn’t care. you just had to have nate, even if it meant screwing over your own brother and your best friend!”

cassie shakes her head, her voice trembling as she tries to explain. “It wasn’t like that,” she protests weakly. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was just… lost, and nate was there. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“but it did happen,” you shoot back, your voice rising. “and now maddy won’t even look at me. she thinks I’m part of it, cassie! she thinks i've been protecting you this whole time! do you have any idea how that feels?”

cassie’s face crumples as the reality of what she’s done hits her. “I didn’t know…” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I didn’t think she’d turn away from you because of me.”

“that’s the problem!” you shout, your frustration boiling over. “you didn’t think! you didn’t think about me, or maddy, or anyone but yourself. you never do! now she wants nothing to do with me, and it’s all because of you!”

cassie winces at your words, her tears flowing freely now. "I'm sorry," she chokes out, her voice trembling with guilt and regret. "I'm so sorry."

"sorry isn’t going to fix this," you snap, your anger still blazing. "maddy was one of the few good things I had, and now she thinks I’m just like you—some asshole who can’t be trusted. I can't even be here for her because every time I try, she pushes me away," you continue, your voice thick with frustration and pain. "she looks at me like I'm the one who betrayed her, like I'm just as bad as you or nate. and it fucking kills me, cassie. fuck. how could you do this to me? to her?"

"I'm so—"

"quit saying you're sorry." you snap. "you know you're not. you know you'll go back to nate and pretend this conversation never happened. you’re just apologizing to make yourself feel better, but we both know maddy and I will be the least of your problems as soon as you're left alone with him again."

a heavy silence settles, and, without another word, you turn and exit her room - heading toward yours. you slam the door shut behind you with a loud bang and lock it for good measure, leaving your sister alone with her guilt.

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Lily is making throwaways to talk to herself now cause she's too afraid to turn anons back on.

[Lily's post]

There are so many golden nuggets in here. Since these are both most likely Lily lets look at a few!

Lily's media takes are beyond just bad, she asserts that the creators of children's cartoons are dangerous extremists for perceived bad messaging in their works that Lily just makes up.

Even without that Lily's takes on symbolism, metaphor, and just basic narrative structure are worth examining because they are some of the most bizarre and ignorant many of us have ever encountered.

But no one "orients their life around you", Lily. It just feels that way because you sit in your subsidized apartment on the internet all day ordering Door Dash from a Subway you could easily walk to. I'd say get some sun but you'd probably turn to ash like a vampire.

As for me? I do something you're incapable of: putting on a show.

No one cares you're trans, Lily. Get over it. Plenty of trans people exist in online nerd culture. You can't hide from the consequences of your own words and actions by using your demographic as shield.

Pfft. They could try. Go ahead. Make videos about me. Hell, Lily, unlike you I don't even hold or delete comments. The little anklebiters who like to lecture me in my comment section don't seem to realize I'm the one allowing them to be there expressing their stupid ignorant opinions because that aligns with my principles.

Lily doesn't make a video about me because she knows I'd just react to and laugh at it. And with any luck YouTube has taken her ability to copyright strike away because she's used it maliciously 9 times.

Also retard. Just say retard, Lily. Not "tradigrade" not "child left behind" not "fetal alcohol syndrome". Just say retard.

You clearly want to. And are bitter you can't because of the insular audience you've cultivated.

This is how I know it's you because only Lily Orchard could be upset I criticized the bland Antarctica anime for being a bland Antarctica anime the sole focus of which is to get 4 teenage moeblobs on a big technical ship. Which is written by a middle aged man who does nothing but moeblob shows and directed by a woman who does nothing but moeblob shows. They both worked on No Game No Life, Lily. You know. This:

The one with the 11 year old loli in love with her step brother. Actually Lily it sounds right up your alley. You should watch it next.

Antarctica show is so full of so many plot contrivances. Why does Shirase just carry her wad of Antarctica cash everywhere and dropped it so carelessly? It's sure convenient that her and Kimari just happen to go to the same school and Kimari happens to hear her loudly wailing about the money in the bathroom. How does Hinata, a 16 year old high school drop out who works in a convenience store think she can even hope to afford this trip? Where are her parents in this anyway? We never see them.

The girls only get on the trip in the first place because another girl who is a child star vlogger just happens to be also going and just happens to contact them wanting them to go in her stead. And after making friends with them she tells her mother that she won't go without the other 3 girls but... the rest of the expedition that adamantly refused to let them on before just suddenly agrees to take them? Because this one minor celebrity and her manager mom who isn't even going said so? Takako only wanted to go to Antarctica because it just sounded neat, she's not an artic researcher, or engineer, or anything that would justify her being out there (a woman in STEM? Perish the thought says 50 year old Jukki Hanada I guess) and she died out in a blizzard trying to get a laptop to email her daughter who she has now left motherless for no good reason. And this is only ever treated as heartwarming and not idiotic.

Face it Lily. The entire show exists just to get 4 teenage girls on a big ship so otaku men can enjoy both brainless moeblobs and technical ship porn. The show sure likes to emphasize over and over how the girls are joshi kosei too. Why couldn't the show have been about the trip of the adult women (who incidentally also act like brainless teenage girls in the show)?

Yeah you guys aren't winning against me on Utena lol. Here, have my post where I have the video walking people through the episode itself. If you want to ignore the actual text of the series in order to appear morally forthright that's your own problem:

And everyone on the bus clapped, and that Asian woman's name? Albert Einstein. What does this have to do with anything except poisoning the well by linking this unsourced incident in peoples' minds to Ant and I?

Also it's Twitter. So Twitter is bad and unreasonable here, but they're not bad and unreasonable when they're squawking at me over a classic anime they've never even watched. Or squawking at Ant cause "L-L-Lily is totes a Native trans woman?? So you can't criticize any of the batshittery that spews constantly from her face hole??"

Ah now we're on to Lily's response to herself.

Oh look out Ant, Lily's got damning screenshots she just can't show anybody right now.

Probably similar to when she happily accepted a screenshot from Poppy of Poppy being creepy to Courtney and tried to blame Courtney for it.

Lily you attract attention when people talk about you because the wider nerdy internet knows your takes are insanely bad. And they know your takes are all tangled up in your personal dramas and heinous actions. They can tell. You're not as subtle as you think you are.

I cut together my response to your bad Utena takes in your 2023 Steven Universe video on a whim and slapped it on my completely unestablished personal YouTube account. It got 5k views in a few days. That's how disliked you are.

Nobody knows who I am but you sure copyright struck 4 of my livestream VODs trying to take my channel down. The 4 VODs where I most talk about your blatantly obvious incest fetish at that. Nobody knows who I am but I've gained 10k subs in 6 months primarily from dunking on you. Because I'm better at YouTube than you are.

And people do bitch at me for saying retard constantly. And you know why I keep doing it? Because the ones who most often tell me not to are some of the most annoying, entitled, self-righteous, puritanical control freaks and it's an easy way to weed them out.

By the way have fun trying to find a lawyer within 10 days who will tell you "Why yes, Lily, you can absolutely copyright these videos of yours full of footage that belong to Viacom, Netflix, Amazon, Toei Animation, Dreamworks, Activision-Blizzard, and many more!"

[its-avalon-08]

hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) p17

chapter 17: enemies and crashes

series masterlist avaspeaks - im sooo sorry i havent updated this series in so long. anyway here is pt17!

It was race day at last. Over the past few weeks Nico and Lewis had become more civil and friendly. Lewis and Y/N had their fair share of moments where they felt as if they were the only ones who existed, hiding behind a facade of nonchalance, the two often sneaked in looks where they would just appreciate one another.

The air crackled with anticipation as the lights flickered off at the start of the race. Y/N, her adrenaline surging, shot off the line, her Red Bull a blur of crimson against the asphalt. To her surprise, she managed to slip past Max, taking the lead into the first corner.

Lewis, watching from his Mercedes, gritted his teeth. He knew he had to reclaim the lead, but Y/N was driving like a possessed woman, her every move calculated and aggressive.

The race was a battle of wits, with Y/N and Lewis trading places at every opportunity. The crowd roared, the tension palpable. Then came the pit stops. Y/N's crew executed a flawless pit stop, sending her back onto the track just behind Lewis.

The two cars emerged from the pit lane neck and neck, a battle royale brewing. Y/N, her eyes locked on Lewis's rear wing, pushed her car to the limit. She was inches away from his bumper, their cars a blur of color.

"Lewis, defensive driving!" his race engineer, Bono, barked through the radio.

"She's trying to take me out!" Lewis retorted, his voice laced with frustration.

Y/N's radio crackled with Liam's voice. "Y/N, focus! This is a dangerous maneuver!"

"I don't give a fuck!" she shouted back, her voice filled with adrenaline. "I'm winning this race! This is not slipping away from me."

Lewis was furious and shouted into his radio, "What the fuck is she doing right now? This will end both our races."

The tension between them reached boiling point as they approached a high-speed corner. Y/N made a daring move, clipping Lewis's front wing. Lewis's car spun out, crashing into the barriers. Nico gasped in shock of how all this had played out. "FUCK FUCK FUCK, What the fuck was that man? No I'm fucking done." Lewis shouted over radio. "Lewis are you okay?" Bono asked anxious. "Im fucking fine. No sorry Bono, I'm- I'm just shocked sorry everyone." Lewis responded. The crowd gasped as flames erupted from the wreckage.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck what had she done? But she kept her focus, determined to finish the race. She crossed the finish line, the checkered flag a blur of victory.

As she climbed out of the car, her team swarmed her with congratulations. She was elated, her adrenaline still pumping. The win was sweet, but the way she had achieved it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She spotted Lewis being helped out of the wreckage, his face a mask of anger. She looked away, guilt gnawing at her conscience. But deep down, a part of her felt a strange sense of satisfaction. She had won, and she had beaten Lewis at his own game.

The post-race celebrations were muted, the shadow of the crash hanging over the paddock. Y/N avoided Lewis's gaze, her heart pounding with a mixture of triumph and remorse.

Lewis, meanwhile, stood alone, his face a mask of fury. He watched as Y/N celebrated with her team, a pang of jealousy piercing through his anger. He had lost the race, but more importantly, he had lost something else – respect for Y/N.

The night stretched ahead, a long and lonely one for both of them. The victory had come at a price, and the consequences would linger long after the champagne had dried.

The post-race press conference was a tense affair. Y/N had already given her interview, her victory still ringing in her ears. Now it was Lewis's turn to face the music.

The first few questions were standard fare, about the race conditions and his car's performance. But then, it happened.

"Lewis," a reporter began, a mischievous glint in her eye, "there was a particularly aggressive move from Y/N on lap twenty-three. Can you comment on that?"

Lewis's face hardened. His jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed with anger. "Aggressive? That was reckless," he spat out, his voice low and dangerous. "She took me out of the race. That's not racing, that's dangerous."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. The reporter pressed on. "Y/N has a reputation for being a fierce competitor. Do you think that crossed the line today?"

Lewis leaned forward, his eyes boring into the reporter's. "I don't think she cares about lines," he growled. "All she cares about is winning, at any cost."

The room was electric. Y/N, watching the interview from her team's hospitality suite, felt a cold dread wash over her. She had known her move was risky, but Lewis was a fierce driver too. Why was he acting like he hasn't done this often? He did it to Nico more than once.

The reporter pressed further, but Lewis had retreated into a shell of fury. His answers were curt, his tone clipped. It was clear that the incident had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wasn't afraid to let everyone know.

As the interview ended, Lewis stormed out of the room, his face a mask of anger. The world could see the animosity between the two drivers, and the rivalry had taken a dangerous turn.

--

The paddock was abuzz with post-race analysis. Y/N, still riding the high of her victory, was surrounded by her team, their laughter and congratulations a welcome antidote to the tension that had gripped the race.

Then, she saw him. Lewis was standing alone, a solitary figure amidst the bustling crowd. Their eyes met, a silent battleground of unspoken words and simmering emotions.

Mustering her courage, Y/N walked towards him. The closer she got, the more she could see the anger etched on his face. It was a stark contrast to the usual composed demeanor he was known for.

"Lewis," she began, her voice barely a whisper.

He turned to face her, his eyes cold and distant. "Y/N," he replied, the words dripping with frost.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the unspoken accusations and recriminations.

"I won," Y/N stated simply, her voice steady.

Lewis scoffed. "By taking me out."

"It was a racing incident," Y/N retorted, her voice rising slightly. "You should know better than anyone what it's like to be on the receiving end of a tough move."

Lewis's jaw clenched. "But you took it too far," he countered. "You could have caused a serious accident."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes challenging. "Racing is dangerous, Lewis. That's the risk we take. I made a calculated move, and it paid off."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Calculated? Or desperate?"

Y/N's anger flared. "Desperate? I was in the lead! You were trying to overtake me on the inside. I had to defend my position."

Lewis took a step closer, his voice low and menacing. "I would never do that to you, Y/N. Never."

The words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the fierce competition they had displayed on the track. Y/N felt a pang of guilt, but she quickly pushed it aside. She wasn't going to apologize for winning.

"But you've done it to people before Lewis. You did it to my brother. Don't act like you're a great saint, because truly you. are. not. Actions speak louder than words, Lewis," she replied coldly. "You'll just have to learn to accept it. We were racing, I was faster, I won. That's that"

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lewis alone with his thoughts. Lewis spoke up, "You're making enemies Y/N. And regardless of what I have done, I would have never dared to risk your life." Saying so he walked away. The victory tasted bittersweet, the adrenaline rush replaced by a growing sense of unease.

Y/N was swarmed by Max, who finished P2, her brother, Christian and more, all congratulating her. But she felt a metallic taste in her mouth. Was it guilt or something far more dangerous?

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @charli123456789, @heyheyheyggg

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

leave a like! leave a comment! reblogs are appreciated!

[helloalycia]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍

summary: when Katniss gets sick and doesn't show any signs of getting better, you fear the worst and have to do whatever you can to make sure she does.

warning/s: mentions of dying + usual warnings that come with writing for the hunger games.

author's note: thanks to everyone who voted on my first lil poll yesterday haha, here’s the katniss one that won! there’s 2 parts and it was written after i just reread all the hunger games books and became hyperfixated on katniss again lmao

i’ll post the jackie taylor yellowjackets one after this for anyone who voted that too :)

two / masterlist / wattpad

I tightened the woolly scarf around my neck, hoping it would do something to keep the cold, bitter air out despite its flimsiness. Winter in District 12 could be unforgiving, but by the look of things from the front window, it hadn't snowed anymore last night.

"I'm leaving, mum!" I called from the front door, grabbing my school bag.

"Have a nice day, hon!" she called back from the kitchen.

When I left my house, the first thing I stepped foot in was grey slush, and I wasn't sure if that was worse than a blizzard at this point. Nonetheless, I sucked it up and headed over to my best friend Katniss' house, not far from my own in the poor, ragged part of the district, the Seam.

We always met at her place before school since it was on the way and we could walk in together, but when I arrived, her little sister, Primrose, answered and looked worried.

"Hey, darling, what's up?" I asked, accepting the hug she gave me as I stepped inside.

"It's Katniss," she muttered. "She won't get out of bed."

Trying not to show my concern, I said, "I'll go check on her. You finish getting ready so we're not late, yeah?"

She nodded and I watched her go into the kitchen to finish her breakfast with her mum, the older woman offering a small smile when she saw me. I returned it before letting myself into the other room of their house, the bedroom that all three of them shared. Inside, Katniss was still in her bed, under the covers and blocking out the light. Whether she was awake, I wasn't sure, but this was certainly unlike her.

"Katniss?" I called, shaking her body slightly. "We're gonna be late, you've gotta get up."

She groaned slightly, not appreciating my interruption, and then seemed to realise what was happening as she rolled over, eyes squinted with confusion.

"Huh? What are you doing?" she mumbled, rubbing her face, and her voice was raspier than usual.

"It's time for school," I said knowingly, before frowning when I saw her cover her eyes with her hand. "Why are you still in bed? Prim has been trying to wake you."

"What...? I don't..." She stopped, before attempting to sit upright, but she squeezed her eyes shut and steadied herself on the bed.

"Hey," I said, much more concerned now, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "You're not okay. Is it your head?"

She clutched her forehead, breathing out slowly. "I don't know. It hurts, it– god, it's bright in here."

I frowned, taking in her pained expression and connecting all the dots. "You're sick. You should stay home today. Get better."

As if I'd accused her of murder, Katniss shook her head and pulled the duvet off her with determination. "I'm not. I'm fine, I–" But just on cue, a throaty cough rattled her.

"I can stay home if you want," I offered, already pulling the duvet back on her. "Help you."

The last thing I wanted was to leave her alone whilst she was ill. Technically her mother would be here, but she wasn't the most attentive since she'd lost her husband, so it was essentially like leaving Katniss alone.

"No, you don't need to," Katniss gave in with a sigh.

"I don't mind," I offered, resting a hand on hers. "I can–"

"It's one day," she assured me, before clearing her throat. "I'll be okay. Go. Please. Or you'll be late."

I sighed disapprovingly before nodding, knowing one day of rest would hopefully prove to be useful. I leaned forward to hug her, about to wish her well, but she shoved me back quickly.

"Don't or you'll get sick," she argued tiredly, making me rub my chest where she shoved me.

"Ow," I said with annoyance, before rolling my eyes and standing up. "Very well. Lay down at least."

Thankfully, she obeyed which was how I knew she must've really felt rundown. Pulling the duvet to her shoulders, I tucked her in before wishing her well and leaving the room. After letting her mum know what was wrong and to keep an eye on her, Prim and I left the house together.

"She's okay, right?" the twelve-year-old asked me as we trudged through the muddy snow.

"Oh yeah, of course," I reassured her with a smile. "It's nothing. Just that time of year."

This seemed to work, as Prim sighed with relief before smiling too. But deep down, a small part of me was a little worried. Firstly, Katniss never got sick, ever. And secondly, whereas a cold might not take some people out, it could be the difference between life and death in a place where it was freezing and had no electricity. I only hoped she'd be able to sleep it off and recover soon.

All day I was thinking of Katniss, unable to focus much at school. When the final bell rang and we were finally let out, I was relieved, only wanting to check on her and hopefully see some improvement. Our friend, Gale, accompanied Prim and I back home, since he lived in the Seam also, and we all went to the Everdeens to see if Katniss was okay.

When we reached their house, we saw Mrs Everdeen helping someone out as part of her job as a healer, so decided not to interrupt and instead headed straight for Katniss. When we walked in, Prim ran to her bedside whilst Gale and I took in the scene. Katniss was still under her covers, as if she'd not moved all day.

"Hey, Catnip," Gale said, hoping to lighten the mood and stir her awake, if she was even asleep.

An annoyed moan was the only response we got, so I settled by her bedside and pulled the duvet down carefully, revealing her face. Her eyes were closed, scrunched with discomfort, but she was sweating. I felt her forehead, surprised at how hot she was, and my worry was increasing.

"How is she?" Prim asked from behind me.

I cleared my throat, pulling my hand back. "Er, warm. But it could be nothing."

Clearly I wasn't the best liar, since she pushed me out the way and felt her sister's forehead before frowning immediately.

"That's not nothing," she exclaimed, before going for the door. "I'm getting mum."

I sighed, but knew it was for the best. When her and her mum returned, the four of us attempted to coax Katniss awake properly. She was reluctant, but finally opened her eyes when I closed the curtains, blocking out the light that was bothering her.

"You're burning, Katniss," I told her gently, taking her hand. Her mum rested a cold cloth on her forehead, moving her hair from her face, and I looked back to her tired eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm just tired," she said dismissively, yawning. "A little cold."

I exchanged nervous glances with Gale, who was as concerned for her as I was.

"You need to listen to your mum and sister," I told her. "They're gonna help you feel better, okay?"

"I'm fine, I just need to rest," she tried to assure me, but she wasn't very convincing.

"Katniss, please," I said quietly, and she looked to me with dark eyes, softening. "Just listen to them."

She nodded, giving in, and I offered her a small smile before looking to her mum for the next step.

"You should both go home," she said to Gale and I. "You can visit tomorrow."

I nodded, not keen to leave Katniss' side but knowing the best care she could be in was her family's. Gale and I said our goodbyes before walking home.

It was supposed to get better after that, Katniss was supposed to get better. But none of it did. She was still bedridden when I visited her after school the next day, though a little more awake than yesterday and itching to get up and leave.

"My legs work fine," she told me with frustration. "Why can't I just get up and push on?"

"Because you're weak, idiot," I told her, giving her a disapproving look. "You've still got a fever, too."

She frowned petulantly, staring off at the wall instead of me. I sighed, resting a hand on hers, and thankfully she didn't pull away.

"Your mum is taking good care of you," I reminded her. "You're gonna be okay, but you need to rest."

"You shouldn't visit me meanwhile," she said after a moment, finally looking at me. "What if I'm contagious?"

I tried not to smile, the thought of not visiting her sounding insane. "I'll live, Katniss."

She exhaled weakly, not bothering to argue. I swallowed hard, taking in her expression. Circles were becoming deeper under her eyes, showing her struggle to sleep properly, and she was still glistening in a thin layer of sweat. Even now, her hand was hot beneath mine, and it terrified me. But I tried not to think of the worst, instead manifesting positive thoughts the best I could.

Enough positivity to make Katniss puke, that was the goal.

Unfortunately, it only got worse from there on out. It was getting colder the deeper we got into winter, which wasn't helping, and Katniss was missing more and more days off school. And then we finally finished school for the year, and Katniss was still unwell.

Unlike that second visit, she wasn't fighting her weakness anymore, unable to play it tough when her migraines were ruining her. Her fever would break, then return, then break again. I didn't understand what was wrong and I'd never been so scared in my life. Gale and her family felt the same, but her mum was surprisingly consistent with her care, doing everything she could to make her daughter better.

But we all knew what nobody would admit – Katniss needed real medicine, none of this herbal stuff.

One day, I was visiting Katniss, going over more and more now that school was done, but she wasn't always awake when I visited. Thankfully she was today, and when I walked in, her head turned to the door to see who it was. When she saw it was me, she shook her head, unimpressed.

"You shouldn't be here," she said as she always did, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

Ignoring her, I took a seat at the edge of her bed, aware of her eyes following my every move.

"Prim," she began, but I answered before she needed to finish.

"She's at Gale's," I reassured her, making her sigh with relief.

Having Prim seeing her like this always worried her, but I was making sure that the younger Everdeen wasn't always around. Of course, she was stubborn like her sister and sometimes insisted. Today though, she was content spending the day with Gale's siblings.

I looked down at Katniss, noticing how much weight she'd lost these past few weeks. She was already skinny, a consequence of living in District 12, but this was sickly, haunting. I'd never seen her so rundown before and I was seriously terrified that if we didn't get her real medicine soon, she could die. Nobody had a cold or flu or whatever it was for this damn long. She was struggling to eat properly, to stand at all, and she looked like hell. I couldn't just watch her deteriorate like this. Not my best friend. Not the girl I cared way too much for.

"Stop it," she said, an accidental whisper. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not doing anything," I defended, embarrassed I'd been caught.

She knew me too well though. "I'll be okay. In fact–" She paused, and then suddenly attempted to sit upright, but her arms were too weak to hold her up and she slipped right back down. The tears were quick to pool in her eyes, a matching scowl on her face, at her incompetence.

"It's okay," I said sympathetically, taking her hand in between mine.

She squeezed it tight, like a lifeline, but avoided my eyes. A tear slipped from hers, and I pretended not to see it for her sake.

"I need to hunt," she said with a hoarse voice, no doubt holding in her emotion.

"Gale has it under control," I said, only imagining all she'd been worrying herself with whilst stuck here. She was the sole provider for her family, and with her out of action, the responsibilities were piling up.

"He has his own family to worry about," she snapped, before catching herself, instantly feeling bad. Quieter, she said, "It's not enough."

She wasn't wrong, of course, but I would never let her know that. Gale barely found enough to feed his own family, especially during winter, and he was sparing what little he could to keep Prim and her mum afloat. I did the same with what scraps I got, but I was no hunter and couldn't offer extra game like he could.

"We're sorting it," I said confidently. "Your mum and Prim are okay, aren't they?"

She finally met my eyes, hers glassy and exhausted. "For how long?"

It was much harder to lie to her when she was looking right at me, so I cleared my throat and forced a small smile. "All the more reason to get better, right?"

She pursed her lips, looking away again. It was quiet as she laid there, me holding her hand and keeping her company. I knew how horrible it could be when you were sick and alone, so I made sure not leave her side, as her eyes began to flicker close, struggling to fight the tiredness. I moved closer, pushing the hair from her eyes and raking my hands through her roots, knowing she liked the feeling but would never admit it. I was proven right when she let out a deep breath, squeezing my hand in approval, and I smiled softly at how cute she could be when she didn't even know it.

Only when she was out of it did I feel my tears blur my vision, unable to pretend that I was okay. She wasn't looking any better, and I couldn't just watch her like this, unable to do a thing.

I leaned forward, kissing her forehead, and closed my eyes briefly, praying to whatever God was out there that she'd be okay.

Everyone had their special something, a skill they had perfected or a hobby they could get lost in. Mine? I hadn't discovered it yet. I suppose I was doing pretty well in school, so taking tests could count, though it was a shit skill to have, impractical. But hunting, that was Katniss' and Gale's thing. No, definitely not mine.

They'd taken me out once, letting me join them on their weekly escapade. Gale found it hilarious that I moved too loudly, scaring away the prey, or that I stepped in my own trap, getting my foot stuck in the rope. I let him enjoy himself at my expense, knowing it was inevitable. Katniss however, despite the small smile that would ghost her lips at something stupid I'd do, was adamant on helping me. She took it too seriously, showing me how to use her prized bow and how to sneak around better. I'd like to say it worked, that I learnt something, but it didn't. It was safe to say they never took me again.

So, when I found myself in the forbidden woods outside the District 12 fence, with Katniss' bow in hand, I felt like a foreigner. I wasn't familiar with these woods, especially not in winter when it was a completely different ballgame to what I'd 'practiced' in last summer. Katniss' bow was too big for me, and no matter how hard I tried to take her familiar hunting routes, my approach always scared away the prey.

I was out there for two hours, certain my fingers would fall off from the cold, but I refused to give up. I couldn't return empty handed. Gale hadn't been successful last week, and family responsibilities had kept him from hunting today like he usually did. So, I took it upon myself to do it, especially because Prim was so hungry, her little face shrinking the longer Katniss was bedridden. I couldn't let her down, any of them, so I pushed on.

But every arrow I let fly missed its target, and every squirrel I approached scampered off. The sun, hidden behind thick clouds, was setting and it was getting dark out, even though the afternoon was barely over. I had to go home, but I had nothing to show for it. I couldn't even pick any edible plants because everything was frozen. I was a failure.

I couldn't catch a thing; the one job I had, to keep Prim fed, was failing; Katniss was dying and I couldn't do a thing to change any of it.

Tears streamed down my face, hot against the cold of my cheeks, and I collapsed in the snow, unbothered by it melting into the cotton of my trousers. It didn't matter anymore.

She wasn't getting better. Every day I visited her, she looked worse for wear. If it wasn't her fevers, it was her migraines. And if it wasn't her migraines, it was her throat. I was losing her day by day and I felt powerless. I couldn't even shoot a fucking squirrel to help. Nothing was working.

I was going to lose her.

Admittedly, I wallowed in self-pity for a little longer, appreciating having somewhere private to let it all out. It was hard playing it positive and tough all the time, for Prim's and Katniss' sake, when the truth was I was scared shitless. Living in a world without my best friend, the girl I so deeply loved to the point that she'd laugh if she ever found out, was terrifying. I didn't even want to envision it.

It was dark by the time I returned to the Everdeens home. I would have much preferred to go straight home, but I couldn't not update them on my false promise.

"Y/N!" Prim exclaimed when she opened the door, before tugging me in instantly.

"Hey," I said, forcing a smile, and I was glad the redness from the cold disguised my red eyes from crying.

"You're freezing," she realised, before calling for her mum. "You were gone for ages! Come, sit in front of the fire."

I pulled back as she attempted to drag me to the fire, and then her mum appeared and noticed the same thing Prim did.

"Y/N, you need to warm up–"

"I will, at my house," I promised her. "I just came to tell you that I– that–" I paused, afraid of the shakiness of my voice. Swallowing thickly, I said, "I'm sorry. I couldn't– I'm not–"

Fuck, why was this so hard?

"I'm gonna figure it out," I changed my words, nodding confidently. "I'll get some food. I'm sorry. I–"

Prim suddenly hugged me, arms wrapping around my torso and squeezing so tightly that I could have snapped in half from how frozen I was. But I appreciated it nonetheless and returned the gesture, letting out a shaky breath.

"Don't do it again," her mum said gently, resting a hand on my cheek before hugging me too.

I blinked back my tears as I let myself relax in their comfort.

I couldn't just stand by and do nothing anymore, and there was only one thing that I knew I could do. None of us could ever afford the medicine Katniss needed from the doctor in town, unless we traded something valuable, like food.

If I used my tesserae, adding my name another time into the potential tributes for District 12, I would receive a year's supply of oil and grain. Participants could only apply once for themselves, and once for any of their family members if they were between the ages of 12 and 18. I'd used mine for this year, but I could still use it on behalf of my parents. They never wanted me to, but this was an emergency and they didn't need to know.

So, on behalf of them, I used my tesserae and traded that two years' supply of oil and grain with the doctor in exchange for the medicine that would make Katniss better. After describing all her symptoms, he explained how it was some complex form of a cold, rare but deadly. I was lucky I'd got to him in time.

Gale didn't approve of my plan when I told him, trying to talk me out of it. Just like Katniss, he cared about whether I used my tesserae without needing to. I could see it was killing him to watch me do it anyway, wanting to do it himself if he could, but he'd already used all his family's tesserae for the year. It was the first thing he did every time it was available, having no choice since he had a big family.

After I collected the medicine from the doctor, I was quick to return to Katniss' house, giving a rushed explanation to her mum about the medicine and what the doctor said about administering it and how it would save her life.

"Y/N, how did you get this?" she asked once I finished to catch my breath.

"It doesn't matter," I said to her. "But it'll help. We can give her the first dose now."

"Y/N–”

"Mrs Everdeen, please," I pleaded, and she must have seen the desperation in my expression because she nodded slowly and went to make Katniss some tea with the medicine in it. It was a syrup of some sort, so the mint tea should have made it a bit more palatable.

Eventually we both went to Katniss' room, where Prim was sat beside her, holding her hand and chatting quietly. When she spotted us both, she perked up and smiled a little.

"Hey, Prim," I said, returning her smile and joining her side. "How's the patient?"

"She's got a headache," Prim answered, and I looked to Katniss who had a wet towel pressed to her eyes, both cooling her down and also blocking out the light.

"Y/N?" Katniss whispered, though unmoving.

"Yours truly," I said playfully, needing to disguise the permanent concern that was in my voice. "We brought you some tea, Katniss."

She groaned quietly. "I don't want it."

Her mum glanced at me, unsure how to proceed, so I took the mug from her hand and placed it on the bedside table.

"It'll help," I promised her, before gently pulling her duvet down. "Can you sit up for me, please?"

She sighed but thankfully obeyed, allowing me to help her sit upright. She leaned against the bed frame and let me remove the towel from her eyes. I smiled when I saw her blue eyes, though they were fatigued as they had been since she'd gotten sick. Not for long, hopefully.

"Drink up," I encouraged, offering her the mug.

She silently accepted it, blowing on the tea before taking the first sip. Her face scrunched up with disgust. "What is that?"

"New herbal remedy," her mum answered before I could struggle to.

Katniss wasn't impressed, but managed to drink the whole thing, probably because she knew I'd let her go to sleep if she did. After laying back down, I pulled the duvet back over her and pushed her hair behind her ear, smiling reassuringly.

"You should feel better with that," I told her with certainty.

She didn't reply, eyes avoiding mine, something I'd noticed she'd been doing for a while now. It was like she knew she wasn't getting better and was scared to admit the truth, but this was different. This would finally work.

Prim and I stayed by her side until she fell asleep, and that was when I told her about the medicine. The pure joy and relief on her face was enough to let me know I'd made the right decision, and she hugged me so tightly that I almost lost my breath.

"I told you she'd be okay," I said with a small smile, accepting her hug. "And so will you."

"Thank you," she muttered into my shoulder.

I squeezed her gently before we stayed there, sat side by side. She didn't want to leave Katniss' side, and neither did I, but it was getting late and, at some point, Prim had dozed off on my shoulder. Only after I had tucked her into her mum's bed did Mrs Everdeen politely kick me out, forcing me to get some rest of my own at home. For once, I didn't argue it, my exhaustion catching up to me. Plus, I could sleep well knowing Katniss would already be doing a lot better tonight.

As soon as I woke up and remembered the medicine the next morning, I headed straight to the Everdeens place, hoping to see some sort of improvement with Katniss. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked into her room and saw her sat upright in bed, eating an actual breakfast on a tray.

"Katniss!" I said with disbelief, before rushing to hug her. "You're eating!"

She returned my hug and I pulled up a chair beside her bed, studying her curiously. She'd looked like she'd had a better sleep than she usually did, and she was actually holding up her own weight which was an achievement in itself. The medication was working!

The sight of her looking a lot healthier and actually improving from her poor condition brought tears to my eyes, but I willed them away. She'd hate to see me crying over her, but I genuinely couldn't believe it.

"I'm not stupid," she said with a raspy voice, eyes narrowed my way.

I furrowed my brows. "What?"

She frowned. "You think I don't know that you gave me actual medicine last night? There's no other explanation for why I'm feeling better. And I know it's not because of a damn herbal remedy. I was doomed, Y/N. So, what the hell did you do?"

"So you do feel better?"

"Y/N!"

I sighed as she raised her voice. "Okay, look, I'm sorry for lying to you, but you wouldn't have taken it if I'd told you."

"Damn right I wouldn't have!" she snapped, glaring at me. "We can't afford that! Which brings me to my next question. How the hell did you get it?"

I shook my head, looking down at her breakfast tray. "It's not your concern."

"Y/N, I swear to God I'll–"

"What?" I cut her off, meeting her hard stare with my own. "You'll what?"

Her eyes flickered between mine before softening. "Y/N. Please."

I could have given in so easily, just from a simple glance, but I refused to let her bait me. I ignored her instead, shaking my head and returning my gaze to her breakfast tray.

"You traded something," she guessed, back to her irritated self. When I didn't answer, she said, "What? What did you trade?"

Again, I said nothing, neither confirming nor denying, but she wasn't having it.

"Goddamn it, Y/N!" she shouted, but her voice was still weak so it was more of a broken yell. "You can't just sit there in silence whilst I–"

"Stop it!" I raised my voice too, glaring at her.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

I frowned, eyes pooling with tears. "I was thinking that I couldn't just sit here and watch and not do anything! I was thinking that I was terrified that you would die! That you were getting worse and worse every day, and that I would lose you, Katniss!"

Her eyes were glassy as they met mine. "How many times?"

I scoffed, looking away. "Katniss, not now."

I expected her to yell again, but she said in a quiet voice, "Please. How many times is your name in there?"

I clenched my jaw, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly. But when I glanced at her, she was watching me like a little girl who'd just lost her puppy, and I couldn't not respond.

"Not a lot," I tried to sugar coat it. "Only twelve times." At this, she released a sharp breath. "I traded two years of food with the doctor. It was enough to get the medicine."

She pushed the tray off her lap before pulling her knees to her chest, hiding her face between them. She was shaking her head and I knew she was crying, the sniffling giving it away. Feeling insanely bad, I sat on the bed beside her and pulled her in for a side hug the best I could.

"It's okay," I told her, rubbing her arm. "I chose to do it, Katniss. And I'd do it again, over and over, if it means you'll be okay."

She shook her head. "You shouldn't have," she said with a muffled voice, her head still tucked between her legs.

"You shouldn't have got sick," I tried to joke, but she only looked up at me with red eyes and quivering lips. I lost my smile, admitting, "I wasn't going to lose you. You don't get it."

I love you, I wanted to add, but I couldn't.

"Neither do you," she mumbled, before shoving me off her childishly.

I didn't get to question her because she pulled the tray back onto her lap and tried to finish off the remainder of stale bread in her plate. I returned to my seat next to her bed, watching as she sulked, ate and gave me the temporary silent treatment. I didn't care too much, as long as she was eating.

Once she finished, I took the tray and put it to the side momentarily, flashing her a supportive smile.

"You finished every last bit," I pointed out. "I'm proud of you."

She rolled her eyes, but that only made me smile more because it meant she had the effort to be annoyed at me, which was something she hadn't had for a while now.

"Did you have your morning dose of medicine?" I asked reluctantly, but needing to know.

She nodded, crossing her arms. "My mum gave it me earlier."

I relaxed. "Good."

Before I could say anything else, the door to the bedroom opened and Prim ran in, a bright smile on her face. Despite Katniss' annoyance with me, she couldn't resist returning her sister's smile, accepting her onto the bed and hugging her.

"You already look so much better," Prim was saying with amazement. "I was so scared."

"Well, there's no need to be," Katniss reassured her. "You didn't struggle too much without me, right?"

Prim shook her head. "Gale and Y/N have been helping. Y/N wouldn't leave. Mum had to kick her out a lot."

I facepalmed, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. It only deepened when Katniss glanced my way with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah, she has a tendency to not listen," she said, making me roll my eyes.

"She saved you," Prim said to her.

Katniss licked her lips. "I know."

I felt awkward, definitely not wanting the credit, I just wanted her to be okay. But then Prim changed the subject, catching Katniss up on all she'd missed, so I was able to sit back and witness it all, chiming in whenever Prim needed.

For once, Katniss was able to listen and actually hold a conversation. It was heartwarming to see, and if this was what she was like after one dose, I couldn't wait until she'd had the full thing.

[kolyasupremanxy]

Thank you for all your hard work...if only words could describe how much every single story has made me feel so much better🥹

May I leave a request in here

My closest friend went behind my back and betrayed me in the worst way possible and the only thing I have been thinking about was how to get her back, finding ways to make her regret it. (Do not worry it's just a payback, no blood bath in planning)

How do you think the bsd boys (nikolai, dazai, chuuya etc) would react to their s/o becoming so rough and hard after a situation like this? Would they help her or talk her into just letting it go? I mean it's not an easy thing the live with when someone backstabs you

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥 , 𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲 , 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 , 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 , 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Idek if this is comfort or what

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐀/𝐧: I'm sorry to hear that, Anon. I'm glad my fics helped you feel better! I hope you're doing well. You can always vent to me anonymously, and my DMs are open. Now, I think I should stop posting angst fics and start writing more fluff/comfort fics.

—𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐥

Nikolai listened to his s/o as they explained the situation with their friend, who had betrayed them in the worst possible way. He could see the pain and anger in their eyes, and it made his blood boil. How dare someone hurt the person he loved most in this world?

One day, as they were discussing what to do about the situation, Nikolai suddenly broke out into a silly dance. "I know what we should do!" he exclaimed, twirling around. "We'll give her a taste of her own medicine!"

His s/o couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him dancing, but the thought of revenge still lingered in her mind. "But how?" she asked.

Nikolai's expression suddenly turned serious. "We'll give her a warning. Let her know that if she ever messes with you again, she'll have to deal with me."

His s/o was taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. She had never seen him like this before. "Nikolai, you're scaring me," she admitted.

Nikolai's eyes softened as he walked over to her and took her hand. "I'm sorry, my dove. I just can't stand to see you hurt. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you."

His s/o couldn't help but feel touched by his words, despite the lingering fear. She knew that Nikolai would never let anyone hurt her and that he would go to great lengths to keep her safe.

In the end, they decided to go through with the plan. Nikolai left a warning for her friend, letting her know that he was watching her and that if she ever tried to hurt his s/o again, she would have to deal with him.

While the thought of revenge still left a bitter taste in his s/o's mouth, she couldn't help but feel grateful for Nikolai's unwavering protection and love.

—𝐅𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲

As Fyodor's s/o approached him, he could see the rage and hurt in her eyes. "Fyodor," she started, "I don't know what to do. My friend betrayed me in the worst way possible. She went behind my back and did something unforgivable." Fyodor listened carefully, his expression never changing as she continued to tell him the details of the betrayal.

After a few moments of silence, Fyodor spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "Myshka," he said, using his pet name for her, "I understand how you feel. Betrayal is a terrible thing, and those who commit such an act deserve nothing but punishment. I will help you get revenge on this person, but you must understand that it will not be a gentle punishment. It will be harsh, and it will be final."

Fyodor's s/o nodded, her face set in determination. "I know," she said, "I don't care what it takes. I just want her to feel the same pain that she caused me." Fyodor nodded in agreement, "Then we shall start planning. But remember, Myshka, revenge is a dish best served cold. We must be patient, wait for the right moment to strike."

As they began to make plans, Fyodor's s/o noticed a glint in his eye, a look of sinister pleasure. "Fyodor," she asked hesitantly, "Are you enjoying this?" Fyodor's expression did not change, but his voice had a hint of amusement in it. "Of course, Myshka. Revenge is what we do. It's in our nature. And besides, it's always satisfying to see those who have wronged us suffer."

As the days went on and their plan began to take shape, Fyodor's s/o found herself becoming more and more ruthless. She was determined to make her former friend pay, no matter what the cost. Fyodor watched her with a mix of admiration and caution, knowing that her newfound ferocity could be dangerous if left unchecked.

—𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

Dazai would react to his s/o's situation with a mixture of concern and humor. He would likely make light of the situation and tease his s/o about their revenge plans, but deep down he would understand the pain and anger they were feeling.

One day, Dazai's s/o came to him looking more serious than usual. She explained to him what had happened with her friend and how betrayed she felt. She told him about her plans for revenge, and Dazai couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ah, my dear, revenge is never the answer," he said, grinning. "But if you're set on it, I'll be happy to help you come up with a plan."

His s/o looked at him with surprise, not expecting him to take her seriously. But Dazai knew how important this was to her and he wanted to support her in any way he could.

Together, they spent hours devising a plan that would make her friend regret what she had done. Dazai used his quick thinking and strategic mind to help his s/o come up with a plan that was both effective and safe.

But even as they plotted, Dazai made sure to remind his s/o that revenge wasn't everything. He knew that the pain of betrayal would stay with her for a long time, but he also knew that holding onto anger and hate wasn't healthy.

"Don't let this consume you, my dear," he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let it go and move on. You deserve better than to be held back by the actions of others."

His s/o smiled at him, grateful for his support and understanding. Together, they executed their plan and watched as her friend got her comeuppance. But even as they celebrated their victory, Dazai made sure to remind his s/o that there was more to life than revenge.

—𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚

Chuuya sat across from his s/o, watching as she scribbled furiously in a notebook. He could tell she was still reeling from the betrayal of her friend. He took a sip of his wine before speaking up.

"Thinking about how to get back at that bitch?" he asked bluntly.

His s/o looked up, surprised. "How did you know?"

Chuuya chuckled. "You're not exactly subtle."

His s/o sighed, setting down the notebook. "I just can't believe she would do that to me. We were supposed to be friends."

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. "So, what's your plan?"

His s/o leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I've got a few ideas. I was thinking of setting up a fake social media account and exposing all of her dirty secrets."

Chuuya smirked. "Sounds like a good time. Need any help?"

His s/o looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure? I don't want you to get involved in my drama."

Chuuya waved a hand dismissively. "Please. I'm always down for a good revenge scheme. And besides, I can't let that bitch hurt my girl."

His s/o smiled, grateful for his support. "Thanks, Chuuya. You're the best."

Chuuya smirked, pouring himself another glass of wine. "Damn right I am. Now let's get to planning. I want to see that bitch squirm."

—𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨

Ranpo had been aware of the situation since the moment his s/o had confided in him. He had listened patiently as they recounted the betrayal of their so-called friend, and the subsequent desire for revenge that had consumed them.

As he watched his s/o brood and plot revenge, Ranpo couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement. He knew exactly how his s/o felt; after all, he had encountered his own share of betrayal and injustice in the past. However, his approach to handling such situations was vastly different.

"Are you really going to let this person have so much power over you?" Ranpo asked his s/o, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"What do you mean?" his s/o replied, a hint of confusion in their voice.

"Well, by obsessing over revenge and making them regret what they did, you're essentially allowing them to control your emotions and actions. They've already hurt you once; don't give them the satisfaction of hurting you again by dwelling on it. Move on and focus on the positive things in your life," Ranpo said, his tone serious.

His s/o was taken aback by Ranpo's response. They had expected him to join in on their anger and offer to help with the revenge plot. Instead, he was suggesting that they let it go and move on.

"But Ranpo, don't you think they deserve to be punished for what they did?" his s/o asked, still feeling conflicted.

"Of course they do, but not by your hand. Leave it to karma or the law of cause and effect to deal with them. You have more important things to focus on," Ranpo said, his voice softening.

His s/o pondered Ranpo's words for a moment before nodding in agreement. Maybe revenge wasn't worth the energy and negative emotions it would bring. Maybe it was time to let go and move on.

As they hugged Ranpo in gratitude, he couldn't help but feel proud of his s/o's growth and maturity. Maybe, just maybe, he had taught them a valuable lesson in handling betrayal and injustice.

Do Not Copy or Plagiarize Any of My Works. Reblogs Are Very Appreciated.

[archon-maenad]

oh my goddddd I am so so so not normal about the concept of the endbringer truce, even more than I am about kill orders (and I am very not normal about government licensed assassinations).

the endbringer truce was ratified. and cauldron was obviously responsible for it crossing from cultural phenomenon to an actual set of laws, but to push that in the first place they had to make sure the concept was deeply important. and it is, it's become a cornerstone of both caping and just being a citizen of earth bet.

that leads to a lot of different ways to look at the concept. there's the cynical outlook, the bitterness the ordinary citizen feels when villains get away with running roughshod over them just because they show up to endbringer fights. heroes have their own flavor of this too, because there's a very real sacrifice of morals that comes from working with a nazi. even if people agree the ends justify the means here that doesn't mean those means don't cost you something. no hero on bet has clean hands, and they know it.

then there's the emotional outlook, where all the feels congeal. I'm such a sucker for humanity banding together, even in the face of hopeless odds, and the endbringer truce makes me tear up when written right. a week from now they'll be at each other's throats but in the moment, with levi or behee or simmy looming above, with the wreckage created surrounding the aftermath, villains and heroes work together. it's beautiful.

and then there's maybe my favorite aspect, the comparative outlook. how starkly the differences in mindset are between earth bet citizens and those of other worlds enchants me. that society has normalized setting aside grudges for the sake of survival in a way that most people can't, because the emotional hurdle is too much to pass even if they get the logic, and stories where that shows are just the best.

I read a post-gm isekai fic where taylor's gambit to rally a group of people against a bigger enemy failed, and that moment stuck with me because she specifically noted that it failed since she assumed the world would have responded like bet would have, and that even baseline humans from her home dimension would have understood the plan. and y'know what they fucking would have. because everyone agrees you Don't Fuck With The Truce.

having to actually explain first why the truce is important just did not occur to her, the argument was focused on why the enemy was obviously truce-worthy. but tay listed out the core concepts and people Did Not Get It and that was such a wild bit of culture shock from her perspective. being too cowardly or morally uptight or selfish to put aside grudges so you can survive gets culled real quickly on bet, but in that new world it was the norm.

it also let to a hilarious moment where she stone cold maimed (or maybe straight up bodied I don't remember) a guy who broke truce and to her surprise people were absolutely horrified. for once tay was not actually trying to deal psychic damage and someone sane could agree that everyone else is overreacting, because maiming or killing people who break truce when birdcages or life sentences aren't available is a completely reasonable response on bet!

I love exploring culture shock and reactions to it in the context of earth bet citizens on other worlds, and the endbringer truce is one of my favorite avenues to do so. it's status as a cornerstone of that society led to a fundamental shift in mindset that truly I am very very very not normal about as evidenced by this nine paragraph post about it.

[lowkeyerror]

Teamwork

Kate Bishop x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Notes: Honestly its been so long I dont even know what goes here... probably violence

Summary: The leader of the Avengers thinks that Kate and Y/n need to work on their teamwork so he sends them on a mission together.

An: I won't say that I'm back prematurely (like I did my last post like 4 months ago) but I will say I feel the need to post so perhaps I will

Masterlist

Kate was sweet like gumdrops. She was the kindest soul you had ever crossed paths with. Her doe eyes were always filled to the brim with emotion. Her skin was soft like clouds in the sky.

These were indisputable facts in your eyes, yet no one would know that by the way you treated her.

You and Kate were colleagues. Both young and upcoming heroes with a lot to prove. Technically you were on the same team, but you treated Kate as your rival.

You and Kate were not cute friendly rivals, but bitter ones. Mostly due to your nasty attitude towards her.

Though you actually quite admired how good Kate was at her job, you acted as though it irked you. Every time she was in the field, she came back a better hero.

She was good at adapting to others' mistakes. She might panic under pressure, but she never failed a mission. The most irritating thing is that she did it all with that award-winning smile plastered on her face.

You were also very good at your job, just a lot less enthusiastic than Kate. If Kate was a gumdrop, you were black licorice.

You worked endlessly on becoming a better hero. Your precision was perfect, it was your gift. There wasn't any chance you'd miss a target. Whether you were throwing a knife, shooting a gun, or trying to make a paper ball in the trash can.

As the youngest members of your team, the two of you often found yourself paired together.

Being paired with Kate was such a double-edged sword for you. On one hand, you got to be extremely close with the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen. On the other hand, you always acted as though you hated her.

" Earth to Y/n, are you listening to me?"

You slowly nod at your captain's words, not at all hearing what he said.

He tilts his head to the side," Ok then what did I say?"

You remain silent, not having the slightest clue of what he said. Kate couldn't hold in her laughter about your blunder. You glare at the brunette.

" I said the main point of focus in this team is our teamwork. If we're going to be working together, we have to respect each other at least. You are lacking in that department."

Kate laughs even louder, causing you to speak up.

" Why is she here for this?"

Sam speaks up," Because she's also lacking in that department."

Kate's laughter stops abruptly," What do you mean, I'm great at working with others?"

Sam looks between the two of and shakes his head," Every time you two are sent on a mission together, you bicker at each other the entire time. You lose focus, and you almost cost us the mission."

" Key word, almost. We've never failed a mission as partners. Our success rate is 100%"

" I don't like having to agree with Y/n, but she's right. Even without being buddy-buddy, we always find a way to complete the job."

Sam sighs," I've seen the tapes, I know the missions get completed, but there's a lack of teamwork. For example, you're hardly watching each other's backs."

" Kate's a big girl, she doesn't need me to look over her shoulder," you argued with him.

" This is what I'm talking about. Everyone on this team is capable of getting the job done on their own. Which means if we send more than 1 person, it is absolutely necessary for you to be looking out for your partner. If I don't see some proper teamwork on your next assignment, you both will be suspended from field work until you can sort it out."

" Are you serious?"

" You can't do that."

Sam slides a folder over to the both of you before standing up," Figure it out, because I'm not playing."

You were fuming when he left. This wasn't fair to either of you. Why were you being punished for being successful on your partnered missions? Just because you weren’t besties doesn't mean you deserve this treatment.

" If you scowl any harder, your face will be like that permanently," Kate spoke to you.

You glare at her again, and she puts her hands up in surrender," That's not very teamwork of you, Y/n."

You sigh and put your head in your hands," This is fucking stupid."

Kate rubs a hand through her hair," I agree. So let's get it over with."

After briefly scanning through the files, you both got prepared for the mission. You were going to check out a minor anomaly in some small country you'd never heard of. The locals had been recently reporting the same suspicious figure, seemingly scoping out the place and buying normal household things that could be used to enhance chemical weapons.

" So, how exactly are we going to demonstrate teamwork?" Kate interrupted the silence on your ride.

You shrug," Fuck if I know."

Kate rolls her eyes," Guess I'll be doing all the heavy lifting as always."

" What did you just say?"

She crosses her arms," You heard me."

You get up from your seat and walk over to her. You squat down so that your face is level with hers. From there you can smell that intoxicating perfume she wears. Her doe eyes are sharp as they look into yours. You almost compliment her, but then reality kicks in.

" Listen here, princess, there was some truth to what Sam said back there. We don't have to like each other, but respect is necessary. And I don't appreciate the disrespect from you."

Kate scoffs," You disrespect me all the time."

" Name one time."

Kate begins to open her mouth, then promptly shuts it.

" I make snide remarks, sure, but I've never said anything negative about your skill level or ability to get the job done because you've given me no reason to."

Kate tilts her head," Was that a- did you just compliment me?"

You break eye contact as you feel the tip of your ears heat up," Look, all I'm saying is don't act like I'm not good at my job."

Kate keeps a small smile on her face," I never said you weren't good, I just think I'm better."

" I'm not having this argument with you."

The rest of the ride was fairly silent after that. The silence was different from the usual bickering, but maybe the captain would see that as a step in the right direction.

When you arrived in the country, you could already sense that something was off. It was a mixture of a gut feeling and observation. It seemed like most of the townspeople had barricaded themselves inside.

" Something isn't right with this place," Kate speaks softly as you both walk further into town.

When comparing what you saw in front of you to what was in the file, it was easy to see large differences in the town. Though the town was small, it wasn't supposed to be vacant by any means. The robust amount of locals was the ones who reported an issue in the first place.

" I don't like it at all. Keep your guard up, Bishop."

The few people you saw wouldn't make any eye contact with you. They were quick to identify you both as outsiders. It was inevitable, as you couldn't blend in to a crowd if the crowd was non-existent in the first place.

The next local that past you was an elderly man, he stopped at the sight of you and spoke," You lot aren't from around here, are you."

" No sir, just visiting. Actually, we're looking for a certain hotel in town," you show him a picture of the place on your phone and his eyes go wide.

" You're looking for trouble."

There's a small pocket of silence which Kate fills," Why would you say that?"

" Cause you're looking for him. He's the only one that stays at that inn. And we all know to steer clear of it."

The man tries to leave, but you stop him," What happened to this place?"

" He happened… started getting rid of people he had problems with. People who gave him trouble."

" What did he do to them?" Kate presses further.

The man looks between the two of you," He blew them up. One minute they were standing on their feet, the next their head would pop like a zit."

The imagery he created freaked you out more than you'd like to admit, "Thank you for letting us know."

He shook his head," If I were you ladies, I wouldn't go looking for trouble. Too pretty to be headless."

Those were his last words as he continued walking after that. Neither of you moved from that spot. Trying to process what he had told you.

Things had gotten extremely serious in your head. You had considered going back to the quinjet and telling Sam that you'd need back up for this mission.

However, you needed this mission to go better than any of the other missions you had been on with Kate. That was literally the reason why you were both here.

" Put these on," you passed Kate 2 ear plugs.

" Why?"

You sigh," If this guy doesn't have powers, then it's likely that he's using nanotech to get into people's heads. So we need to cover possible points of entry."

When you finally get to the building, it's a little ways from the actual town. You're on edge. Kate walks a little bit in front of you while you watch her back.

By the time you see the trip wire, it's too late. It's not the entire building that explodes, just a corner of it. A corner that was going to fall on Kate if you did not take action.

It felt like slow motion to you. You saw the building about to crumble on top of her, and you were quick to lock your arms around her and force her out of the way along with yourself.

Your breathing was heavy as you realized the girl in your arms could've died. Your front was pressed against her back, and you could feel her ragged breathing as well.

You didn't let go of her until a voice interrupted the tense moment.

" Hasn't anyone ever told you that trespassing is illegal," a man emerged from the intact part of the building, smiling sadistically at you two.

" Who are you and what do you want with this town?"

The man cackles," This town is insignificant to me. It's simply my playground where I can test my masterpieces."

" Then what is it that you want?"

" I'm going to blow up the world, literally. It almost feels trivial to call it a bomb, but my masterpiece will destroy everything. There will be nothing left of this world when I'm done with it."

You're scared, but you can't let him know that," What makes you think we'll let you do that?"

" You two? You won't be around to stop me."

You realize it a half a second too late as another explosion happens under your feet. You brace yourself as best you can to prepare for impact, but you feel a hand latch on to your arm.

With the strength you have left, you help her carry your weight and stop you from falling to your death.

" I just need 1 shot," you growl as you stand up.

Kate sees the look in your eyes. She has seen it before, and it never leads any more good for the person you're looking at.

" He has explosives, it could be dangerous," Kate stood with you.

" Kate, go call for backup and a bomb squad."

" I'm not le-"

" KATE GO," You yell at her with your eyes focused on the enemy.

Kate wanted to fight more, to argue with you again, to postpone this situation. Yet she knew you were making the right call, she had to trust you at this moment and she did.

She took off running. You saw the man reach for what you assumed to be an explosive detonator. It took less than a second for you to whip out your gun and shoot the device in his hand.

He screamed as the bullet grazed his hand, the debris from the device burning into the skin of his palm.

" The next shot will be through your head, if you don't call it quits now."

" I didn't want to get my hands dirty, but if I must," he approached you at his own speed.

It took everything in you not to charge at him. You knew he was baiting you. So you took a shot at the ground right by his feet.

" Well, you're smarter than you look, but not smart enough."

You felt yourself being restrained and forced to the ground. Whatever held you down had a tight grip on your skull. Its cold metal prongs were cold and sharp against your skull.

" Don't bother struggling against my invention. You'll never get up. I'll blow your mind, and then the brunette's."

The mention of Kate made you fight against the bot. It also made the mad scientist laugh.

" Aw, how pathetic. I'll tell her about this after you're gone. Now open" he violently grabbed your chin and shoved something in your mouth.

He slapped you across the face one last time before walking away from you," Any last words?"

You were shaking, sweating, and scared. For the first time in this interaction, you let your eyes water. This felt like the end.

You'd failed and it had cost you. The part that made the tears stream freely was the thought that you wouldn't be able to save Kate. She didn't deserve to die like this. You'd hope she stayed by the jet and waited for backup.

" Oh right, there's a bomb in your mouth. Silly me," you watched as he reached for the detonator. Time seemed like it had slowed down.

He flipped a few switches on the remote before getting ready to hit the button. You closed your eyes, waiting for it to be over. Yet your eyes shot open when you heard the man scream in agony.

There was an arrow through his hand. Then another came down and through his foot.

" I will shoot this shit through your head if you even think about grabbing that remote."

Your face was still against the gravel, but you knew who had just saved your life.

She walked toward him with her bow at the ready. She picked up the remote, and before she did anything else, she shot the robot that was pinning you to the ground.

The tight grip on your head was now loose and limp. You slowly began getting to your feet.

Kate handed you the detonator. You did the opposite of what you saw the man do and saw the green light on the device turn red. There was still some fear in your heart about removing the explosive from your mouth.

The man had a smug look on his face when he saw you struggle," Well I suppose if it's disarmed its harmless right? Maybe it's heat sensitive, maybe it's touch sensitive, who knows. The only way to find out is by removing it from your mouth."

" Shut the fuck up," Kate shot an arrow directly past his head, grazing his ear slightly.

" You're going to be ok. Just take it out and throw it as far as you can."

You looked at her and for the first time ever she saw genuine fear in your eyes.

" You have to trust me," the look in her eyes was something you could not debate.

You didn't hesitate, you dug into your mouth, removed the device and chucked it as far as you could. It didn't land anywhere, instead it exploded in the air. It wasn't significantly sized on the outside. However, you knew if had gone off in your mouth you would've died.

You walked up to the man and pressed the butt of the gun into his temple. There was nothing more you wanted to do than blow his head off. Your chest heaved up and down.

The man laughed," Kill me then. I dare you."

You cocked the gun and your finger rested on the trigger.

" Y/n don't," Kate tried to reason with you.

You couldn't look at her, you'd fold if you did," He deserves it, Kate. You should've heard the shit he was saying."

" That's not for us to decide, Y/n."

You began to shake," Why not?"

Then the scientist laughed again, and that sent you over the edge. You took a small step back and fired the gun.

The scream you let out was primal. It ripped through your throat. It hurt more than you could ever imagine.

The bullet had taken the man's ear. His screams were nothing compared to yours.

Kate hugged you from behind as your legs began to fail you. With her arms around you, she kept her bow and arrow raised at the man.

Sam was confused at the sight when the backup finally arrived. The scientist was cuffed and taken in as other special forces handled the damaged building.

When the scientist was gone, Kate dropped her bow, but her arms stayed around you. Sam began to approach the two of you, but Kate signaled him to stay back.

" Y/n, talk to me," her breath was a whisper against your ear.

" I'm sorry," you said, trying hurriedly to get to your feet.

You didn't get too far before Kate yanked you back into her embrace.

" You saved my life, there's nothing to be sorry about," she gave you a small smile.

" But I-"

Kate shook you a bit," You didn't kill him so, it doesn't matter. He was trying to blow your head off."

" You saved my life too."

Kate nodded slowly," I did, you saved me first though."

" I was terrified, Kate. When he said he was going to kill you, I- I never felt that helpless," you were causing yourself anxiety just speaking about the moment.

Kate didn't hesitate to rest her hand on the side of your face, forcing you to look at her," I'm right here, Y/n. A few scratches and a few bruises, but I'm ok. Without your reflexes or your decision-making skills, I don't know if I would be standing here right now."

" Kate," your eyes accidentally drop to her lips.

" Fuck it," Kate muttered before surging forward and placing her lips on yours.

You kissed her back and it felt right. It felt like Kate was your other half. There was no competition anymore; just you and Kate.

" Well, I see you got the teamwork all handled," Sam spoke, causing the two of you to separate.

" We almost died on this mission. Our teamwork was fine before. The trauma we have is-"

Kate had more to say, but Y/n grabbed her hand," We're good."

" But-"

" Everyone is safe, the bad guy is behind bars, and now we get to go home; together."

Kate huffed and dropped her shoulders," Fine, but we're dealing with this together then."

" There's no one I'd rather tackle my demons with," you couldn't help but sound cheesy.

" Good, because you're stuck with me now in more ways than just coworkers."

You smirked," I'd gladly be stuck with you any way you'd have me."

Sam cleared his throat with a smile on his face," Ok, you guys are free to go. I'll wrap it up here."

Your hand never left Kate's as you walked back to the jet. Nor did it leave when you both strapped in for the ride. It was at that moment that you decided that you'd do whatever was necessary to hold on to Kate.