#im swallowing down a panic attack

[thegeekyartist]

I hate that every time someone asks about road conditions online it's nothing but hate and jokes. Yes we KNOW we live in an area that gets snow. Just fucking answer the question

[absentmoon]

OK. im inside now yesss

[lynnlovesthestars]

Why?

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. Warnings: mentions of past abuse, self-harm, astarion is a little bitch that can't accept someone can take care of him, blood sucking, lots of pulling and letting go i guess?, messy emotions for messy people, self doubt and insecurities. Anxiety, panic attacks, nudity but not sexual. (if i missed something, please let me know. Summary: night is that moment when you can take care of yourself, but what if you find someone that needs more care than you? WC: 4.4k

Author notes: omg i finally finished this one, i've been working on it for a while now and initially it was supposed to be published before i started getting requests, which by the way im loving and im diligently working on<3, anyways this was a small challenge for me, i've been trying to work with stuff i wasn't entirely comfortable with to push my boundaries and learn something new, and this came out.. I hope you'll enjoy this read while I work on the next draft<3 love you lots!

When the moon finally made its way in the sky, and dinner had been consumed, you knew you finally had some time for yourself.

You’d take that time to scrub away the blood that stuck to your skin and the filth of the day. Traveling along a river had it’s pros: you found a nice spot along the bed of the Chionthar that seemed perfect for a bath. 

That night the place was particularly silent, the wind was blowing between the leaves and it was the only sound that you could hear until you passed that  funny rock shaped like a bear.

Initially you thought it was an animal, or at worse a beast, but as you delved closer rhe sound became much clearer. 

Heavy breathing.

It was a sound you could recognize everywhere, because it was a sound you’d make on those nights when anxiety would take over and you felt helpless. Since you went through all the hardships of your life, you promised yourself you’d do your best to help people in need, and in that moment there was definitely someone that needed help.

Your stomach was churning as you followed the shallow breaths that reverberated in the silence of the undergrowth. It led to a small clearing where the moonlight was free to enlight as much as possible of your surroundings. On the opposite side from where you came from, someone was coiled on himself, exposing their bleeding back your way.

The slender fingers clawed at their own flesh leaving deep marks, but it was the whimpering that helped you recognize the person in front of you.

Astarion.

Astarion that was completely naked, his nails were digging into his shoulders, and trembling like a beaten puppy. His clothes were scattered around the clearing, they were ripped in the haste of the panic, you assumed.

You rushed to his side, dropping your bag next to him as you crouched and cradled him to you.

“‘Starion” You whispered as you scanned him, from the way he hid his face, to the red streaks along his chest, the pale skin stained with tears and his glassy, raw eyes.

His whole body was a trembling mess as he couldn’t hold back tears. The slow wails were filling you with anguish as you tried to calm him down just enough so he could make out a few words.

“Who did this to you?” You whispered softly, as you slowly dried his cheeks. The question awoke something in him, he slipped out of your arms before you could object and he tried to sit up.

His arms were shaking as he rested his palms on the leaves-covered soil. “No one.” He turned his head away, his eyes subsequently diverting from yours. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He breathed out as he tried to stop his eyes from getting more and more teary, yet failing at each attempt.

“Yes, it does.” You insisted, raising your palm and reaching for his cheek. Gently you guided his eyes back to you making sure he knew you cared. Making sure that he knew you only wanted to help him.

The pit in your stomach felt like a dark hole in you, swallowing everything with it. You’ve never seen him like this since you two met, not even when you learned his vampirism while he was starving. 

Even when you learned small bits of his past, like how he got turned, he always kept composure, though you knew he was hurting. Now instead he was so vulnerable.

You felt a pang of guilt hit you, you were invading his personal space and he probably wanted to run away, yet he was growing on you, and if there was something about you, it was that no one hurt the people you cared for. 

“Who did this to you?” You repeated still gently yet firm. You caressed his cheek with your thumb, taking your time to wipe away the remnants of his previous tears.

For a moment he hesitated, he wanted to hold back, but then his body gave out, almost slumping on yours. His eyes were duller, his lips were quivering, and he wasn’t sure he could ever form a full sentence properly, but you were there and you were trying to help him. No one ever tried to help him.

For so long he wished someone would waltz in and come to his rescue. He desperately wished someone would shake him awake from his worn coffin to drag him out of those filthy kennels. He wished someone would dry his tears and heal his wounds, yet for 200 years he suffered alone.

Instead you did much more than what he expected: you insisted, you didn’t recoil disgusted or gave up. You sat there trying over and over to patch him up, to find answers, and to find who hurt him so deeply that he’d end up bleeding alone in a forest.

You knew, of course, that he didn’t tell you his whole story when he opened up, it would have been foolish of him to do so since you were a stranger. He didn’t mention the scars that covered his back, or the constant nightmares during his reverie, cause of course elves couldn’t live without over analyzing things, or the true extent of his master’s punishment. You couldn’t have known yet.

His voice was shaky, broken, a whisper as he muttered Cazador’s name, afraid that even saying his name out loud would be too much, like that would make the monster materialize in front of him, but once he muttered his name, he couldn’t stop his words from being vomited out of his throat like sharing all of this with you was a new compulsion bestowed upon him.

“I was meditating when my brain decided to gift me an old memory” He sighed shakily. “And of course the memory was related to whatever is carved in my back. The pain was so vivid it felt like I was back there, hunched as that bastard was having the time of his life.” His voice was feeble, broken, it was so raw you were not sure how to react.

“When I woke up I was covered in blood and everything was hurting.” His eyes widened for a moment like he could rewatch those images over and over again, right there in front of you.

“My body was clearly not mine anymore, I was taken over by this fear that you’d all hate me for whatever this is, so I ran looking for a spot to hide.” He lowered his gaze.

“I guess before I could look around me, I sank on my knees. I felt like I was suffocating, Tav.” He was trusting you with something that he was running away from, something that terrorized him, something that you knew went opposite of his survival instinct. It was something that made him so fragile that he had to run away from a place that he should have considered safe, your camp.

Despite the gushing wounds he still ran, and yet he allowed you to get a piece of his mind, he didn’t kick you away like he’d usually do.

“My clothes were too much, the pain was too much, everything was too much. I'm not gonna lie. I literally ripped everything off before I could even process what I was going to do to myself. The only thing I knew was that the old scars were open again and they were gushing. I could feel it, Tav. I could feel the blood dripping down my fucking back.” His eyes were brimmed again with tears that he couldn’t hold back even if he tried, it was such a haunting feeling he wished he could erase the memory. “I couldn’t stop.”

He looked at his hands, his fingers were covered in blood and specs of his skin were hidden under his fingers. He was so disgusted at the sight that another sob quivered from his lips.

“You’re safe, nothing can hurt you now.” You leaned forward wiping his cheeks with your palms. 

The remorse in his eyes was vivid, he just had trauma dumped on you and he knew you were going to hate him for it, but then you said his name so gently, so caring, that he allowed you to caress him.

You gave him time to ragain as much control as he could muster before you helped him up. He did look in need of a bath undoubtedly, and you had to go to the river anyways, so you asked him if he wanted to join you. You offered to clean his wounds so he could avoid infections, though you weren’t so sure vampires could get infected like that.

You both took your time standing up, his head was pounding so hard that his balance faltered. Your arms were there for him before he could hit the ground.

How was it possible that whenever he'd be deep in shit, you saved the fucking day? Just that day you did it twice and he would have sworn he didn't deserve any of it.

“I’ve got you” You made sure your arms were anchored on him, steadying his movements, and taking the opportunity to ask him if you could clean his wounds. He wanted so bad to refuse but his body felt so heavy, and his eyes pleaded for help no matter how much he’d try to hide it. Astrarion couldn’t recall a single person that cared for him so tenderly.In the past 200 years all he got was beatings, starvation, indifference, it was all so foreign to him, so much that the words you told him bounced in his head incessantly for days. “I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.” I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.” 

It was like a second nature to you, you could read his eyes like no one ever did. 

Yyu guided him towards the river, in that secluded spot you liked. 

You settled down your bag on a stump, and along with it Astarion’s clothes. You decided you were going to clean those after you were done with your baths, and afterward if your fingers didn’t feel too sore, you’d work on fixing the tear along the back of his blouse.

You picked up the small bunch of bottles, and one of the small towels you usually carried around to clean your wounds. 

Astarion let go of your hand only when you picked up those things, and even in that brief instant, his legs could barely hold him up. It was like he was dragged back in the kennels, like he had not fed in goddamned ages, and he lost too much blood to even breathe.

You didn’t notice it until you turned towards him, his body was quivering like a leaf in the middle of a tornado. 

Despite the tremor and the blood, there was still something about him that leaked confidence, like the hurt that was encompassing him was not making him look smaller, or weaker. It was.. real. 

If you thought you saw through astarion when you first met him, this was the moment you realized you were wrong. When you were slammed in front of this raw sight, you knew.

This was the closest you could get to the real Astarion, and it hurt. You didn’t understand why it hurt so much, but it was much worse than any other pain you could recall. It was a feeling that was eating you from the inside cause you knew his wounds were much deeper than what he shared with you so far.

Nevertheless, you didn’t hesitate to throw the bottles closer to the water and pass to astarion the towel, then before he could even understand what was going on, you whisked him up in your arms. 

He wanted to complain- he wanted to rely only on himself-, but his body didn’t agree. It was like it was screaming at him, screaming to tell him that he needed help and that even for a moment, it would have been okay to let someone patch him up.

You sat him right at the edge of the river, where a log was already propped nicely so travelers could clean themselves without the risks of the flowing water, then without thinking too much about it, you stripped off your own clothes, discarding them quickly. You weren’t embarrassed, or rather, you were, but he exposed so much of himself already, that you felt safe to do it as well.

You joined him, sitting yourself in a spot that allowed you to slip in the water effortlessly, while still being close to Astarion. 

The towel was the trick: you dipped the cloth in the water just enough that you could wipe away the blood without soaking the skin, then you’d gently run it down Astarion’s body to wipe it all.

You worked one small patch at a time, starting with his right shoulder and working your way through his scarred body.

His back was towards you, exposing the carving, which you identified as infernal runes. You cleaned him slowly and with a softness you didn’t know you had in you. 

Everytime you’d move away to dip the cloth in the water, his body would soften, even if for a moment, before the towel grazed again on his scars, and he couldn’t help but flinch ever so slightly.

“I’ve got you” You whispered under your breath as you pressed the cloth on his neck, causing a long shudder to run through Astarion’s back.

He wasn’t sure what if was anymore: whether it was the towel still startling him or your words that seemed to mend him like tiny plasters putting his wounds back together. What you were doing for him.. it was nice. You soothed his skin, while whispering supportive words as you took care of him.

“I won’t let him hurt you again” You whispered while taking a moment to squeeze the blood off the towel, before resuming your slow descent. 

As you worked on another patch of the runes, you couldn’t help but stare at the way the moonlight shone on his skin, it was a sight that otherwise you would never see.

Your eyes took in all his form as you cleaned and cleaned, and you could feel your heart running an extra mile.

The slow passing of time started to affect him after a while, his back slowly hunched under the heavy weight of his thoughts, his breath hitched as you diligently traced his back. No one was ever allowed to touch his back before you. He could feel the tears swelling again under his eyes.

You were so concentrated on cleaning that you didn’t notice until he was almost curled up again, and you helped him up. 

You kept your arm around his waist so he couldn’t fall prone as you started working on the wounds on his chest, and that’s when his eyes met yours, the crimson was shining as the tears piled and piled on them, the moon only served the purpose of highlighting them.

Then when you scooted him closer to you and allowed his back to rest against your chest, he was a crying mess again.

This time his lips were moving before his brain could process his thoughts, for a moment you could see his sanity slip away hidden in the drops of his tears. 

“Why?” He pleaded. “Why? Why? Why?” His voice rose between choked sobs.

“Why now?” The more he would ask, the more his voice would raise, until it finally broke in a whisper again.  “Why didn’t you show up earlier? I could have been plucked from...” His words felt like a stab right through your chest.

"Shh" You whispered as you left the bloodied rag on his thigh, and you wrapped your other hand around his waist. 

"I might have not made it in time, but I promise you I'm not leaving your side now" You pulled him on your lap, leaving a soft kiss on his temple. You knew that if he was still alive, you’d feel his chest pound incessantly as everything became overwhelming, but the only sound you could perceive was the rushing of the water. In any other occasion you would have hated the closeness of your naked bodies, you would have been weary of such intimacy, yet it felt different. It felt right.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” He asked when his breath finally set down again, and the only memory of it was the long streaks of tears still sulking his skin. 

“Cause you don't deserve this” You still held him close as you lowered your voice, making sure the sound of the water could shield you both if you needed it, like a bubble around you.

“Liar” His tone matched yours, but with much more spite. “I've done awful things” He shook his head, it was something that heavily plagued him, he’d often have flashes of some of the horrible things he did, and that moment was one of them: he could hear the echo of the screams of the poor victims he’d bring back to Cazador.

“That doesn’t mean you deserved torture.” You cooed. “You didn’t have a choice.” You traced small soothing circled on his hip as you still held him close.

He sighed deeply, he knew you were right as much as he wanted to say that he could have ran away. The memory of the darling boy and the consequence of his action were a fierce reminder of it, everyday of his life.

“You are a fool.” He sneered. “I have stabbed in the back everyone I got close to, and you are still doing…” He pointed at the two of you, at the position you are sharing, at the rag on his thigh, at your arms around him, and the words you just told him. “This.”

“I like taking risks.” You chuckled softly.

“This is not a risk, you are doomed to fail and you are a dimwit” He rolled his eyes, evidently it was obvious for him, unlike you that still believed fairytales.

“Am I?” You didn’t falter, in that moment you felt confident in your choice.

“Are you forgetting the knife I held at your throat darling? What makes you think I wouldn’t do it again?” He retorted trying to make you waver, it was his survival mechanism at the end of the day. If he was able to slither in just enough doubt, he wouldn't’-

Your words caught his attention again right away, as you started counting on your fingers. 

“The fact that we’ve been traveling together for 3 weeks, that I let you feed off me several times and you have not sucked me dry, the fact that you told me about your past, and that you allowed me to just wipe away blood from your back.” You stopped for a moment, building up tension and to perceive what went through his mind in that moment. “..and the fact that you are literally crying in my lap.” You finished.

“Okay what if i'm just manipulating you? How would you tell?” What was the game he was playing? 

“I don’t think that what i witnessed tonight could be faked, ‘Starion” You finally sighed, relaxing your shoulders. You didn’t even feel your body tense up, that’s how much you were absorbed by this conversation between you two, cause it was so confusing.

He didn’t answer anymore at your last remark, he just allowed you to finish your work diligently as he was lost in thought again. 

You made sure his wounds were clean before leaving the rest of his body up to him, and then you finally took your time to properly clean yourself as well as your clothes. 

Drying your skin was by far the hardest step since you carried only one big towel with you: you opted to pat your bodies dry before slipping in your clean clothes, then you’d give him the towel to cover himself, since his clothes were in heavy need of repair.

The walk back to camp was fairly silent, since Astarion was still affected by the blood loss and you were lost in your thoughts.

You left your wet clothes next to the fire where they could dry while you’d rest, and then you started to walk back to your tent.

When you were just a few steps away from your little nook, you remembered.

Instead of sneaking directly into your tent, you made a beeline towards Astarion’s. He was still outside, sorting a few empty containers he had around, while his frustration was palpable in the air.

“‘Starion” You called quietly, avoiding to wake up everyone else.

“What? Are you here to give me your pity?” He scoffed as he was still fixated on the conversation you just had.

“Actually, I was wondering if you needed to be fed.”Your voice betrayed your worry which was loud and clear. “Earlier I noticed you were struggling, and your eyes are.. dulled” You explained, you wanted to pat his shoulder but you stopped just a moment before you touched him.

“So? Are you going to make fun of me if I am?” His walls were back up, the vulnerable elf you saw earlier rushed away behind this mask he carefully handpicked to push you away.

“No, you can feed off me though” You suggested encouraging. “If you want of course, take 

your time, I’ll be in my tent” The last thing you hear was a muffled ‘thanks’ as you made your way to your tent again.

Astarion finally made up his mind, he strode quickly toward your canopy. “Darling?” He brought your attention to him. Your tent’s entrance was wide open, offering zero privacy to you as you were nose deep in some tome.

“Hey, come in.” You smiled, you were glad he was no longer avoiding you. “Can you please unhook the flap?” You asked while you moved the book away from the two of you. “I don’t wanna make you feel too exposed” You clarified.

“I appreciate it, but are you sure you want me to feed off you? I mean I know it’s not the first time, but it’s-” He hesitated, sure he wanted you to stay away, but at the same time that thought made him flinch away, like he should have felt differently.

“Yeah I’m sure” The apple of your cheeks warmed up at the nervousness, especially when you noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers. “You lost so much blood and the shock.. you definitely need to get your fill” 

“Thanks” He avoided your eyes before sitting next to you.

On the other hand you took your time readjusting your little reading corner, making sure it would comfortably hold both of you. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything” He finally gave you the closest thing to a smile after a whole evening of tears. His arms wrapped around your middle as he helped you to lay with him. His touch was impossibly gentle: he moved away your hair and tilted your head to expose your neck, but he didn’t bite right away.

His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he held you to him, just like earlier you held him to you. He traveled down your neck with his lips, looking closely for your pulse, or so you assumed, then when he found a nice spot, he sunk his teeth in your flesh. Your body tensed for just one moment as you could feel his lips press around the wound, and your blood slowly leaking out.

Then you became putty in his hands, the dizzying sensation rocked you sweetly as you let it take over you.

He was slow, tender. 

He held your head gently and pulled you impossibly close, almost as he wanted to fuse your bodies.. His legs naturally tangled with yours while he sucked and sucked on your skin like his life depended on it.

It took everything of you to repress the whimpers that would build up in your throat, it was different from all the other times he drank from you: in the past you’d just be very tense, but in that moment you felt like air was directly pulled out of your lungs, like your body was being set on fire. 

He wasn’t in any different condition, he was barely  repressing the moans as your warm blood rushed against his tongue, and his breath was hardly regular. 

Even your blood tasted different, sweeter than before taking over all his senses. It was madness, it was like your blood suddenly turned into a drug he couldn’t resist, making his head spin.

He stopped only when he noticed you were starting to slump in his arms, a sign that you were getting too close to a no-going-back point.

He took time to lap away the blood that was still leaking from the pinpricks, sending jolts down your limbs, and stealing a sweet mewl from your lips. He didn’t concentrate on the sound he coaxed off your lips, cause he knew that if he did he’d probably spiral into insanity, so he focused on the wound he had inflicted, leaving a few kisses right where the pricks of his teeth made home, before reaching for your blanket and covering you with it. 

He didn’t let go of you, or move at all for what it mattered, he had to internalize all those feelings that were overwhelming him before he could walk out. He knew that if he didn’t stop there until he was back in himself, he would have felt dizzy as well, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of passing out on the floor.

Was he blood drunk? Whatever feeling was cursing through his body, he wasn’t sure he could identify it, but moving was not an option anymore when he noticed you were still nudged in his embrace. He tried to sneak away, but you were cradled on him, ‘peace’ crossed his mind before it got swept away by something you’d mumble, he had to wait for a bit to catch what you said since you murmured something he couldn’t quite comprehend, until your voice became clearer.

“I wish I could have saved you sooner” You murmured under your breath. “Stay, i’ll protect you.” Your arms around his waist pulled him closer to you, slotting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle. Your warmth, your sweet flowery smell, your surprisingly gentle snore slowly lulled him in, closer and closer until he felt safe, and quietude took over him.

[webslingingslasher]

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/739562902099492864/the-panic-attack-please-im-cackling-jdjdjdj-it

also he would feel so bad😭😭 the fetishise ask thing got me thinking. imagine she lies or pretends she’s not a virgin at first just bc guys are super weird when they find out ab it, so she does that just as a protection thing/to get weird guys off her back. so Peter doesn’t know & imagine they’re making out or whatever but he’s super quick with it and suddenly there’s a dick in front of her and she starts panicking JAHAHAHAAHA

I csnt stop laughing picturing this. he’d be so confused but so worried HABABA

*cleaning out my inbox* an: this is not our trouble/reader. this is an au with our peter!

you got a little too far into it. in your defense, your friends told you instinct would take over and you’d just fall into it and you’d do anything when you’re horny and in the moment.

but right now, in this moment, you’re panicking because someone other than you is taking your shirt off, and someone other than you is touching your breasts.

you got this, you can handle this. you’ve made it this close, what’s a little closer? you could finally get it over with, and with a guy that’s astronomically hot. god was giving you a chance and you weren’t about to fuck it up.

you can handle being tossed to the bed, you can handle warm palms cupping your ass, you can handle a brush of his core into yours. you can handle peter taking off his pants, you can handle peter… peter… he’s-

peter’s got a big dick, and it’s coming right at your virgin body, and you can’t handle this. how are you supposed to lie your way out of this? or was it into this?

it doesn’t matter, he’s going to know the second he tries to put it in. fuck, is he going to put it in? yes, that’s how sex works- okay, fuck, shut up!

peter’s got a gleam in his eye, how fucked were you about to make things? you’re the one that came onto him and now you’re freaking out because there’s a real deal penis and real deal sex situation happening and you have no idea what to do.

‘that’s a penis.’ your hands clasp over your mouth, it was the least sexiest thing you could say and it shows on peter’s face.

‘i’ve…’ you swallow hard and feel everything in you ignite, you’re praying to any god listening he just takes you out of your misery right then and there. isn’t premarital sex a sin? you should be burnt at the stake.

‘i’ve never seen one before.’

‘oh, jesus christ.’ a shuffle, it’s out of your sight and you can’t begin to explain the relief. you stare down at your hands, if you didn’t have to walk by peter, you’d be out of his room in a second.

you peek up at a flash in the corner of your eye, your shirt was outstretched and pushed into your hold. ‘if you can’t see mine, i can’t see yours.’ your chest doesn’t feel as tight, he’s not mad, just a little thrown off.

‘i’m sorry.’ you’re still shy when you meet his eyes, even if you’re fully clothed. ‘but like, i didn’t tell you i wasn’t a virgin.’

peter crosses his arms over his chest. ‘and you didn’t tell me you were until it got too real.’ he’s right, your shoulders slump, isn’t it just embarrassing? not even the lying, just the fact you’re in college and you’re still a virgin.

‘i just thought it could get it out of the way, i don’t know.’

peter scoffs, ‘well, you don’t do it like this.’

does that mean he’s off the table, did you shoot too high? ‘so, you don’t have sex with virgins?’

‘it’s not in my day to day schedule, no.’

‘you’ve never taken a girls virginity?’

‘did i say that?’

‘no.’ it’s unsettled emotion, it’s the only reason you huff and cross your arms at him. yes, make this his fault.

‘i thought you’d be the perfect candidate, but i guess not. i didn’t know frat boys actually cared this much.’ if peter wasn’t going to kick you out before, he would now. you offended him.

‘the fuck? sex is a whole different ball game when you’re a virgin. you don’t know that yet, i do. it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and have a good time, that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t tell me.’

you started something, he wasn’t stopping.

‘i’m not saying there aren’t guys like that out there-that’ll do what you want, but it’s not me. if you want to get it over with like that, fine. but i’m not doing it in one night.’

you naw on your bottom lip, if you got this far what’s one more question? ‘so, would you?’

‘would i what?’ you chew harsher, it was easier to just pretend you weren’t a virgin. you shouldn’t never stopped him. ‘take my virginity.’ you spit the words, before he could try to repeat himself, ‘i mean, at your speed or whatever.’

peter has a series of emotions run through his mind, they all tell him it’s a bad idea. the heightened emotions, the awkwardness, the whole hurt thing, he just never really thought he’d have to go through it again.

‘you don’t know me.’ it should be more than enough, but you counteract him. ‘i know. that’s kind of why i chose you.’

a deep inhale, ‘you baited me? was this your plan?’ you try to clear the idea with your hands. ‘no, no, no! the plan was to not tell you but then i got scared. but since you already know… you know?’

‘no.’

you drop your head into your hands, everything is getting worse. you should’ve went through with it. ‘everything is awful and i want to die. i’m so sorry, peter. we can just forget this ever happened and if you see me around campus, no you don’t.’

you try to paint yourself invisible, instead you get a half earnest sigh from peter. ‘alright, look, you’re fine. it’s fine. you’re actually… strides ahead than i was when i was a virgin, okay?’

of course he says that, he’s already been through it. ‘but im too old to be a virgin!’

‘pft, what? no. have you seen 40 year old virgin?’ you cry out into your hands, ‘im not steve carell!’ you really had to pick a man? was that really the only option you had?

‘be honest with me, the pathetic virgin-‘

‘stop.’

‘- if i do this with another guy will he know?’ you hold on tight for the answer, it’s not long, it’s immediate. ‘yes.’ you’re not sure if he’s just saying that so you don’t throw off another guy.

‘no, seriously. would he-‘

‘yes.’ you exhale a ‘fuck.’ game over, if you really wanted this, you’d actually have to find someone to date you. that sounds like actual hell.

since you’re already in the pits, ‘peter?’ a hum, you finally blink up at him. ‘are you sure you won’t do it?’ you watch him take a solid breath, his next words chosen articulately.

‘when did i say i wouldn’t?’

you explode in a smile, you were right, you chose the right person. ‘you will? like, you’re gonna make me not a virgin?’

peter thinks- no, knows it’s a bad idea, but you’re going to do it regardless and he knows he’s better than a majority of guys on campus. he’d actually make sure you’re safe and comfortable. was he really about to do all the first steps with someone he didn’t know?

yeah. he was.

‘yes. i’ll take your virginity.’

[findmeinforks]

Not Letting You Go Easy - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

IM BACKKKKKKK!!! Wow I just checked my last fic and it's been TWO years. Does anyone even remember me? 🥹 I'm back on my twilight bs, this one is my longest ever! Let me know what you think! - 3.2K Words ❤️

*Second Person POV*

The sun poured on your face as you soaked in all the warmth it allowed. You missed the sun, watching the palm trees sway peacefully as the ocean tide rolls in. The goosebumps that arise on your skin as a strong breeze passes, the warmth blanketing back over them.

You keep your eyes shut as your mouth curls up in a smirk, listening faintly to your mom try and convince your sister to stay in Jacksonville. She could offer up the moon and all the stars...Bella would still choose Edward, every time. It's true that you were weary of the vampire, after she flew like a bat out of hell half way across the world to Italy to save him. But could you blame her?

If it wasn't for your sister stumbling her way into the supernatural world, it's possible you could have never met Paul. A blush crept up your cheeks as you crack a full smile, thinking back to the day you met the hot head.

~

There was absolutely zero hesitation when you followed behind Bella in the truck to go to Jacob's. You had been worried for weeks about your sister, who had been spiraling ever since she was ghosted a second time by someone she trusted. Not only did you care about your her, but Jacob too. He had been around your family for years, and this behavior...especially towards Bella...was concerning. So when she frantically barged in your room asking you to go with, you were out of the house in minutes.

You had taken off in a sprint to try and keep up with your sisters manic running towards the group of shirtless men in Jacob's backyard. You heard rumors of the so called "cult" that had formed in the recent weeks. Jacob's haircut and tattoo had confirmed that part. But seeing the others approach through his window, you knew this was going to be a bad idea. You barely had time to catch your breath before her hand came in contact with one of their faces. You let a gasp slip as you made it in time to yank her back by the elbow.

What had gotten into her!?

Not able to process why she would resort to slapping him in the first place, the man, who looked like a carbon copy of the other ones standing around, began to shake violently. The others were urging you both to get back while attempting to calm him down. Never in your life had you witnessed such immense anger. In seconds his shakes became tremors. It was as if he ripped apart, and in his place stood a massive grey wolf. Mirroring the emotions of the man before, the animal was growling, snarling at your sister with its teeth bared.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You felt as if you were dreaming, blinking rapidly to make sure this was real. Not standing around to question the animal who could very well kill you, Bella grabbed your hand and you both booked it towards the house. The outburst must have woken Jacob, who was running towards the scene. Bellas blood curdling scream was telling him to go back, though he kept charging forward.

You both fell hands first onto the grass as Jacob launched over you both, shreds of clothes flying as yet another wolf emerged.

Now it was you who was shaking. The only thing that prevented you from having a panic attack was realizing that all the other men were calm, as if this happened all the time. You swallowed your fear as you accepted the hand of one of the younger men, who led you two back to the truck by the order of the oldest one.

As you walked into the cozy secluded home, your mind was running a million miles a minute. They were werewolves....as if after learning vampires existed wasnt a shock enough already.

The oldest one, fiancé, Emily, you had learned, helped ease some of the headache. Besides the scar she wore upon her face that made your stomach drop when you first saw her, she was the epitome of kindness. You could see when she was greeted by Sam that their love was far more deep rooted than the mark she wore. Only knowing her for an hour, you felt happy for the girl.

You vaguely registered Jacob returning, finally looking away from the couple when you heard an unfamiliar voice apologize to Bella. As he then turned your way, you both locked eyes. An electric current jolted through your body, through your veins as you held his stare. You felt a fuzzy warm feeling race its way all the way down to your toes. The feeling lasted what felt like forever, until Jacob's "no fucking way...." pulled you back to earth. It's as if you had been some other place. A place of immense happiness and love. You knew you looked as bright as a tomato when you realized all eyes were on the two of you, mortified they caught you staring.

You did a quick scan of the room, noticing they were paying more attention to the man rather than you, who, was still staring.

When you craned your neck to look at Bella behind you, you found relief in that she looked just as confused.

The man was slapped on the back by Embry, which snapped him out of his trance. He quietly introduced himself as Paul. You blushed hard when you quickly said your name back. As if to break the tension in the room, Jacob asked you both to go for a walk.

Before you left, you had sworn you heard Paul growl.

"Not now. She's been through too much today already." Sam lowly said to him. You furrowed your brows as you trailed behind your sister out of the house.

After a walk on the beach and many questions answered, you were able to take a deep breath. The world was getting scary for you, but Jacob seemed to ease your fears, promising he would always protect you both.

Before he dropped you both off at your house, he had mentioned going to a pack bonfire the following night. You couldn't help but get excited at the prospect of seeing Paul again. You both hadn't even spoke other than introductions, but there was some type of spark in your core when you both met.

Attempting to shove it away, you reminded yourself it was nothing but a crush.

~

You sat on a log by the fire, rubbing your hands together in front of it. Everyone was up gathering their food, but you were focused on the warmth as it was more than chilly outside. Nerves bubbled in you as Paul approached, asking to sit next to you. Your cheeks heated as he sat, only inches away.

"I just wanted to apologize about yesterday," he spoke, his voice gruff as he looked into the fire. "You could have gotten hurt and I let my anger get the best of me. I promise I'm not like that all the time, and I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Your heart melted at how softly he spoke. "It's really alright. My sister acts out of impulse, if you couldn't tell." This got him to laugh lightly. You laughed too, until a strong breeze made you break out into a shiver.

Paul immediately noticed, grabbing a blanket from the pile beside him. "Here," he said as he wrapped one around you. His warmth radiated off you as he had gotten closer to do so. Not even realizing what you were saying you spoke, "I bet your girlfriend never gets cold with you around." To your embarrassment but surprise he cracked a big smile. "I bet she would, if I had one." It was your turn to smile. "What about you?" You shook your head no as Paul let out a small breath that almost sounded like relief.

Before either of you could say something more, everyone gathered around the fire. The legends of the tribe had you captivated. So much history that you were never aware of, right under your nose. You could feel Paul glance at you every so often, gauging your reaction to everything that was said.

When the fire died down and Jacob's dad came to a stopping point, everyone quietly mingled until deciding to call it a night. You had talked to Paul the entire time, getting to know the basics. You had a lot more in common than you thought. The more you learned about him, the more you liked him. A lot. He followed you to Bella's truck, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I had a really good time tonight" you spoke softly, now inches away from his face. You were so close you could feel his breath.

"I did too. I hope this won't be the last time I see you?" he questioned.

You glanced past him to see Bella and Jacob making their way up the hill.

"With everything going on, everything that's happening...I have a feeling we won't be going away anytime soon."

Paul smiled.

This is the part where he'll kiss me, you think. Your heart beats fast in anticipation.

But Paul just stands there. Staring. He stood there so long that you cleared your throat awkwardly.

"I'll see you around Paul." You tried to hide the disappointment on your face as you climbed into the truck and shut the door. He had let you, still standing there for a moment before turning around to walk back to the house.

Tears welled up in your eyes. How foolish were you, to think that a guy like Paul Lahote would just sweep you off your feet? Sure, a kiss might be moving fast for the first night, but he didn't even give you his number. You analyzed everything you had said to each other. Nothing was even romantic, so why on earth would you think he liked you back? Pathetic.

Bella said goodbye to Jacob and got in the truck. One thing you loved most about your sister was that she knew you better than anyone else. And if there was one thing you hated, it was when people asked if you were upset. One look in your direction and she didn't say a word, starting the truck and driving off. She knew when you were ready to talk, you would.

*Paul's POV*

I turned around, watching the truck drive away, getting smaller and smaller in the distance. I was frozen in place.

What is wrong with me?

"Everything go okay?" Sam approached, clearly sensing my distress.

"I'm never like this with women, Sam. I should have kissed her, but I didn't. I stood there, right in front of her with my mouth open like a fucking fish. I-I've never felt this way-" I rambled on.

"Dude it's alright" Sam interrupted, "Did you tell her that she's your imprint?"

I sighed. "I didn't even get that far. I don't, I don't want her to feel forced to like me like that right away. I want to treat it like a normal relationship....but I think I went ahead and screwed it up anyways." I huffed.

Sam placed his hand on my shoulder. "Deep breathes. You didn't screw anything up, you just met her. You can tell her about the imprinting when you're comfortable....as far as the kiss, well, it's never too late." Sam held up keys to his vehicle, putting them in my hand. "Only if you need them." He slapped me on the shoulder, winking, as he walked back to where Emily was.

I watched him sneak up behind her, she giggled as he peppered kisses on the back of her neck. I knew what he was doing. And it was working, as I made my way towards his car.

*Back to Second Person POV*

You sniffled, taking a deep breath. You were done crying over this man. This man you had literally just met. So what if he didn't like you? There is a million other people out there. Why did you care so much?

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Charlie was gone over night on a hunting trip and Bella was fast asleep.

Another knock. It was almost damn near midnight. As you slowly approached the door, bat in hand, you looked through the peep hole.

It was Paul.

You flung open the door, ready to ask him what the hell him problem was, when he lunged forward. Grabbing you by the face, he kissed you feverishly. Your heart pounded in your chest as you melted into the kiss, tongues dancing together in perfect harmony. One hand held you by the hair as the other grabbed you by the waist, pulling you impossibly closer. When you both needed to breathe you pulled away, Paul's hand held tightly so you couldn't go too far. He leaned his forehead against yours, panting.

"I am so sorry I didn't do this when you left. You, you make me nervous. It's a feeling I've never really had before. When you left I- I didn't want to let you go that easy. I'm sorry." He said.

You leaned in to kiss him once, slowly, softly. "I've been waiting for you to do that," you smiled. "There's a lot more where that came from...if you'll have me." he said, his hand sliding down to interlock with yours, bringing back up to place a gentle kiss on the top.

"I couldn't imagine anything better." you grinned.

*Paul's POV*

Y/N guided me to the couch, asking to stay awhile. We held each other until the sun came up, just talking. It was as if everything right there had changed for me. She would be my number one priority, to have and protect. I vowed to myself that I would do anything she asked, that I will love her no matter the cost. Whatever makes her happy.

I had to leave before Charlie got home, but not without a heated make out session at the door. It took everything in me to pull away from her, both of us lingering. Despite her not letting go either, I could see the bags under her eyes forming.

"Get some sleep baby, text me when you wake up okay?" She nodded, and after a good 20 minutes of more kissing, I left.

I understood why Sam was always mopey without Emily around. As I drove away I could feel my heart ache like something was missing. This was a whole new feeling, and for the first time I thanked whatever spirits gave me her.

My imprint.

I bit my lip as I remembered I still had to tell her. I'm worried about how she'll take it, but there was something heavier on my mind.

Victoria.

Part Two Anyone? :)

[aziraphales-library]

Hiiiii, i hope you're all having an amazing day on whichever day this gets seen, i owe you my life for running this incredible blog 💛💛💛

Would you happen to know of any meet cute human au fics in which Crowley is a cat dad? (preferably M or E rated, but im not that picky) There's just something very endearing to me about Crowley owning a cat that i can't explain...

Thank you in advance for your help!! 💛

Hello! Here are some fics in which Crowley has a cat...

with the help of a cat, or two by whicorzoo (G)

In which the cat in the window of the flat right across from Crowley's is unfairly perfect, so on a particularly whimsical night, he decides to put up a sign in his window to tell his neighbor as much. By morning, he's forgotten about it, until he sees it in his window and regrets the decision entirely. He expects to have his cool, intimidating facade never taken seriously again. He does not expect a response.

Pass the Star by mageofthepeople (E)

An Ineffable Wives roller derby AU Azalea Fell meets Antoinette Crowley at her first roller derby bout with a new league. After an incident leads to a trip to A&E, the two are drawn to one another but Crowley is reluctant to potentially ruin a great friendship for something more.

But, soft! by On1OccasionFork (M)

With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out; And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. -Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene ii Crowley's life is going well. He's got his shop, his friends, and a new flat with a balcony perfect for a few plants. That's when things start to get complicated.

love like yours (will surely come my way) by CCs_World (T)

Dr Zira Fell is a new professor of theology at St Beryl's University. His first day there he meets the mysterious and enchanting Dr AJ Crowley, an art history professor and a painter. They almost immediately become friends, and spend most of their time getting lunch together, talking, drinking wine, making art, and falling slowly in love with one another. Featuring cameos of everyone's favorite (and least favorite) characters, gratuitous descriptions of paintings, long text messaging conversations, and one cranky cat.

Or Be Nice by charlottemadison (E)

Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbours. And...it does not go at all well, until it does. A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way. +++ “So what’s your deal?” “My-my-my deal?” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m a bookseller, is my deal.” “Oh,” Crowley replied, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound. “It’s just, I couldn’t help overhearing, and --” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You really are an accomplished musician. But I thought -- for after 11PM -- perhaps we could reach some arrangement?” “Arrangement?” Aziraphale felt his his smile turning forced. “Such as, perhaps, playing the drums *before* eleven? Instead of after?” Crowley stared blankly at him. In fact he stared for so long that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he'd lapsed into ancient Greek again, which he was known to do in bad dreams or during panic attacks.

Whickber Street by Caedmon (E)

Anthony J. Crowley doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy. He’s finally quit his old job and is opening his childhood dream: a comic book shop. All of the neighbors are great, but the bookseller seems to hate him… Aziraphale Eastgate grew up in his great grandfather’s shop. Now he runs it and lives above it. He loves everything about his life on Whickber Street…. but the new proprietor down the street has him terribly, terribly vexed. Sparks fly when these two meet, and Aziraphale vows to hate him forever. Fergus, meanwhile, sets a timer. Looks like Cupid has come to Soho.

- Mod D

[jasmines-library]

Hello sugar <3! (im very sorry if theres any spelling errors, english isnt my first language <3)

I would love to request some angst/comfort with the batfam? Maybe with the reader (tw: sa, rape) struggling with some sexual assault/rape issues, something they haven't told the family yet? The reader acting different for weeks, months even, and the whole family being suspicious and noticing their sudden fear of being cornered, touches and certain smells maybe?

its totally fair if you don't feel like it, I just really really love your way of writing the characters, and your writing over all. I swear, i swallowed your whole page in the matter of a few hours, I loved every second!

Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?

Note: My gosh im so sorry this literally took me over a month to get to, but it's here. I'm so glad you like my page and thank you for requesting! (Title name from song)

Warnings: SA, r*pe (non explicit but this fic deals with the aftermath. Please read with caution.), Panic attack of sorts.

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Please remember, if you are ever struggling you are not alone. It may be difficult at first but there are many places for you to reach out to, many of which are anonymous and do not need the involement of of name, if you are just needing for someone to talk to. There will always be someone out there to help you. As an alternative, my DM’s are always open for a chat! Remember: You are loved and you are so much stronger than you realise.

⛤

You hadn’t meant to drift away. It sort of just…happened. And it wasn’t even something you were conscious of really. The thoughts were just constantly there and you couldn’t shake the feeling of his hands roaming all over his body; the ghostly touch of his fingers lingering flush against your skin, burning an invisible bruise into your flesh. You tried to shy away from it but it was always there, buried into the front of your mind festering away like an old, unforgotten wound oozing with pus and blood that would only create more problems the longer it was left. 

The night it happened was cold and bitter. A shallow fog had cast itself over the city as you staggered back to the manor with makeup running carelessly down your face. You shut yourself away, turning the lock on your door and burying yourself under the covers to try and  shy away from the situation. But it never left. It just kept growing, weeding its way back through the open cracks like a stubborn plant that refused to leave no matter how many times you doused it with poison. You didn’t sleep that night. And you didn’t leave your room the day after. In fact the only time anyone saw you that day was when you slunk downstairs in the middle of the night to try and revive the growling of your stomach without having to see anyone when you bumped into Tim who was finally dragging himself up to bed. The interaction was odd. At first he thought that you had just been busy all day and that was why no one had seen you: It wasn't uncommon for one of you to disappear into your room for a few days to catch up on school work or to finally get more than 4 hours of sleep. But something about you was off. You were quiet and lacking that charisma that usually shone from you. You were jumpy too, recoiling as soon as Tim rounded the corner unexpectedly. 

When you finally managed to bring yourself out of your room, you were still withdrawn. Instead of donning your normal seat next to Jason at the table, you sat at the end alone pushing your food aimlessly around the plate until someone had finished eating and you took that as a cue to leave. You didn’t mean to leave them in the dark. Really, you didn’t but the thoughts crept into your mind every time they got near. Every hand outstretched sent a shiver crawling down the nape of your neck as if someone was running an ice cold digit along your spine. The thoughts were worse. Intruding. Obnoxious. You felt so…dirty. And your mind seemed to like to make sure you remembered that. You couldn’t help but feel like somehow the whole situation was your fault, which of course it wasn’t, but you were stuck with being guilt ridden; trapped within your walls. 

Your skittishness didn’t go unnoticed. The boys tried many times to talk to you or to get you alone, but each time one of them hastily trailed after you as you slunk out of a room you would pick up your pace until they got the hint and stopped dejectedly in the halls. You had just skittered off into another part of the manor when Damian decided he had finally had enough. 

He pushed his way back into the library rather frustratedly, stomping his feet so hard against the floor that they continued to pound through the room even as he moved from the polished wood to the carpet amongst the centre of the room. His brothers were still lounging around the room, their legs slung carelessly over the arms of the chairs or folded beneath them as they engrossed themselves in their phones or an ever growing pile of books. They barely even acknowledged that Damian had even returned from his pursuit of use, besides lifting their gaze as he huffed his way back into the room. 

“Something is wrong with Y/N.” Damian declared, planting his feet into the carpet in the centre of the room and placing his hands on his hips. 

Dick felt as though he could laugh. Damian’s statement was so obvious that you may as well have had a huge, yellow sign above your head that screamed ‘i’m not okay.’ It didn't matter how much effort you put into trying to hide the bags that dropped across your skin, or the way that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with any of them for too long without your skin crawling, they were prominent amongst your saddened features. “Yeah, No shit.”he said, looking up from his phone that he had been mindlessly scrolling on to distract himself from the feeling that gnawed at his gut.

The room fell into a pregnant silence before Damians angry scoff broke the silence. 

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” He spat. “You’re not worried?”

Jason pushed himself up onto his forearms and spoke out defensively. “Of course we’re worried… It’s just…”

“What?”

“She won’t let us help her, Dami.” Tim said. “We’ve tried, but each time she’s run.”

“Well then try harder!” He said. It was unusual for the youngest Wayne to react this way when it came to his siblings. But, then again it was unusual for you to shy away like this and although Damian would never admit it, he had a soft spot for you and seeing you hurting like this killed him a little inside. 

“Damian.” Dick reprimanded sternly. 

He sighed and swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t see them suffering like this anymore.”

There was a general agreement between the four of them. Tim chewed away at his bottom lip as he thought for a moment. “What do you propose we do?”

The whole room seemed to think together as one for a moment. 

“We corner them.” Damian said. It might have seemed cruel, but it was the only thing he could think of that would stop you from slipping away again. “If they keep running there’s no way we’re going to be able to help, so we just have to compromise.”

~

You knew that Jason was behind you. You could hear his careful footsteps, evenly spaced by his long strides as he tried to catch your attention. He was loitering outside of your room, trying to catch you as you left. It surprised you to see him as you peeled open the door. You had flashed him as much of a grin as you could muster up as he greeted you, trying to draw you into a one sided conversation that you were itching to get away from the moment it started. You tried to remind yourself that it was just Jason. That he wasn’t going to hurt you. But your mind still thought it was funny to play cruel tricks on you and soon you were making up a poor excuse and fleeing down the halls. 

You didn’t make it far though before you collided with a tall figure marching down the other end of the corridor, who braced his hands on your shoulders. Yelping at the unexpected contact you spun on your heel to turn back the way you came only for your breath to get stuck in your throat when you were met with the red of Jason’s shirt. When you backed up, you collided with the eldest vigilante again. Spinning around frantically, you searched for a way out. There was none. 

You were trapped. 

The thought consumed you quickly, dragging you down like a ton of bricks tied to your ankles until you were drowning in the thought of being imprisoned again. It was all you could think of. It screamed throughout your mind, pumped in your blood. It was nauseating. You could see the other two approaching and panic set into your already scrambled mind. You weaved, trying desperately to spot an exit but the two vigilantes were much bigger than you and their hefty frames took up most of the corridor. 

“No. No no no.” You rambled as your heart rate skyrocketed and your breathing came in sporadic, panicked gasps. 

Tim furrowed his brow. He didn’t think you would react like this. He reached out to grasp your forearms to ease your shaking body, but you nearly screamed, yanking your arms away from him and backing up against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me!” You stuttered, barely audible between your spiralling state. Fat, hot tears tracked along your face as you sunk to the ground to bury your face within your knees which you clutched to your chest. 

The four boys exchanged an anxious glance. 

“Y/N…”

“Please…” You gasped. “Stay away from me. I-I can’t anymore… no more. Please.”

“Y/N? What's wrong?” Dick queried. “Talk to us, please. We want to help.”

“No…” You whimpered. 

Damian squatted down beside you resting on the balls of his feet before reaching out slowly towards you, ignoring the warning glance that Jason sent his way, and placing it gently on your shoulder. 

Flinching, you squeezed your eyes shut. He could feel the way you trembled like a leaf under his touch but he didn’t let go.

“It’s just me Y/N. It’s Dami.”

You registered his words, but you still felt like you were back in that room. You allowed your body to relax just the smallest amount.

“It’s just us, kid. You’re okay.” Dick cooed. 

You sniffled. The four of them were crouched around you now.

“You can trust us.”

Your body tensed as you were hit with reminders of that night. The way he had led you away to commit his act of betrayal that would cut deeper than a thousand knives. 

“That’s what he said.” You hiccuped. 

“Who?” Tim asked tenderly. “Talk to us Y/N.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t want to bring up the memory stuck in your mind. 

“Kid… we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

“He- he… took me away from the crowds… He said to trust him- and I thought I could. B-but then he-” Your voice split into an unholy sob. 

“Oh..Y/N/N…” Dick said, suddenly understanding. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I can still feel him. Hear him. Just make it stop please!.” You begged, sobbing into your hands.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” He told you, reaching out gently to place a hand on your forearm, you tensed slightly but didn’t pull away. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Ever.”

“We promise.”

You peeled your head away from your arms to reveal your bloodshot, teary eyes. From close up they could see how clearly the ordeal had taken a toll on you. Not just on your body but your mind too.

It took some convincing and a lot of gentle touches of reassurance to get you off of the floor, but the four of them managed to ease you back into your room. They refused to leave you alone after that. Insisting that at least one of them stay by your side at all times until you decided on your own terms that you were ready to take the next step in your recovery and stay the night alone. It was a slow process, but each small milestone made them extremely proud of you. They were there when you awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, crying and shaking, and they were there when you managed to move forwards too.  They were there to remind you that recovery isn’t linear, and that it was okay to move backwards. It’s all part of the process. The four of them showed you a different kind of gentleness that you had never seen before, and they tried their hardest to bring a smile to your face everyday. And it was their kindness that began to wash away those feelings. It was them who made you realise that you were loved, strong and would find your way back from the darkness and into the light.

[planete777]

꒰ RED LINES .:. LN4 ꒱

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n finds her fate hidden within two red lines, and fears the demise of her and lando's relationship. [based on this ask]

pt. 2 .:. 'red hearts'!

WARNINGS. pregnant!reader, both her and lando aren't ready so there are discussions about potential abortions, mental break downs (i.e panic attacks, crying, you know the drill), angst, mentions of throwing up (no one does it i promise), attachment issues (like me fr), a little bit of fluff (because im not that evil >:])

NOTE. first non-high!lando fic!! i've never written a pregnancy fic, so like, forgive me if it's bad haha 🥲 i put so much effort into my banner, like i'm so proud of it lmao. anyways, enjoy reading luvs 💗

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any high!lando thoughts, scenarios and requests, or any other trope too 🤍

edited to add tag in banner

y/n is almost blinded by it.

two bold, red lines.

she finds it completely comical how she didn't know it sooner, for the ink that runs down the result window is so palpable, it might as well have been written with a permanent marker.

the test taunts and mocks her as she stares at it in complete despair and confusion as she so sure that they had been careful. but now, she lets herself cry over spilt milk because having a baby, on top of mountainous piles of stress that came hand-in-hand with uni, was not a checkbox she would've liked to tick off amidst her status quo.

the bathroom pounds with an deafeningly eerie silence, as she stares, and stares, then blinks as tears flow, then stares again. her ears are swallowed by loud static and her vision fuzzes around the edges, making the test in her hand seem further away than it actually is, and she allows herself to completely fade out.

she feel utterly sick. like she wants to throw up, but the upcoming bile, instead, remains dislodged in her throat and presses immense weight into her chest. it shortens her breaths, she's hyperventilating as if she's been strangled, then panic completely overwhelms her. everything before her zooms in and out like a malfunctioning camera and the pregnancy test clatters to the ground as she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

she doesn't remember the last time she had a panic attack this severe, and neither does she know if she'll get over it solus. yearn for a presence beside her devours her brain and she wishes that lando–

lando.

the way her heart seems to squeeze in her chest is almost too animalistic to be normal, and it arrives at the thought of him being unacceptable of the baby. he's barely situated in one place, fuck, he basically travels for a living, and all her mind conjures is how he won't be there when she needs him most. she tries to wish it away, because just thinking about her makes her spiral even more and she knows she cannot survive with a child whose father decides to be absent.

codependency isn't great, that she's thoroughly aware of, but lando's presence brings a wave of comfort braided in the brightness of his smiles and the warmth of his embrace, and it has become her whole lifeline.

yet, the bathroom she's in feels too small and too cold to be anything other than unbearable, and her body feels to weak to remain upright, sliding down to the tiled floor. she sobbing and spluttering so much that lando can hear it from two rooms down, and he rushes into the en suite without a thought in mind.

he crouches down in front of her, hands flush against the skin of her cheeks. he's shaking, fucking terrified out of his wits, and his words are enunciated with a tremble.

"hey, hey, y/n breathe with me," he desperately takes her hands into his, and places it on his own chest, making exaggerated breaths as y/n's start to simmer. it feel like hours stretch by, the air surrounding feels tense with fear and devastation, and by the time she settles, y/n senses nothing but exhaustion.

"what's wrong, love? you're scaring me," lando gently asks, and she struggles to respond, mouth rid of any moisture as if it had been scraped dry. lando takes the initiative to look around in hopes that anything would give him a clue to his girlfriend's break down.

then he freezes.

the white stick lays there, gleaming and glowing like it's fucking sent from heaven, and he feels his heart plummet into the depths of his guts. he knows he can deny it all he wants, but it's undeniable, what he's seeing, yet prays like a grieving mother that what he thinks is not true as his quivering hands reaches for it.

two bold, red lines.

"oh fuck," it punches out of him, every inch of energy disperses like fleeing birds, "you're pregnant?"

it's so small, so timid that he almost doesn't see it, but she nods, and his arms fall like he's been shot and the test leaves his fingers. he swears he's drenched in ice cold water and he remains silent, bound by stunned numbness. his lack of response spurs y/n again, and she begins sobbing, pressing her face into her arms and wiping it furiously. all she thinks is that he doesn't want it, and out of sheer terror, she starts rambling utter shit.

"i can get rid of it, if you want, lando, just please i'm begging you, don't leave me."

he's crying himself now, doesn't know what to feel at the suggestion, but it makes him gag.

"get rid of it if i want to? fucking hell y/n, i'm not a prick like that," he fumbles out, words wet and hardly cohesive, "as long as you want to keep it, i want the baby too."

she looks up at him, eyes so full of hope that he immediately takes her into his arms.

"you sure, lando?" she's still hesitant, burying her head into his chest, and as further reassurance, he kisses her forehead, "as sure as i'll ever be."

[dxckgrxsonx]

soo… can we get more dickpic storyline?? IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙏🙏🙏😩😩

okay. so this took longer than i wanted. on the upside, i've got about seven different scenes half written out because this fought me every step of the way.

Jason gets a little jealous in this one which i will explore in the next part ;)

MASTERLIST // SERIES MASTERLIST

**

“Do you have to go?”

Panic snaps tight like an elastic band around your chest and you whirl a full hundred-and-eighty degrees to face Jason, breath still frozen solid in your throat.

There’s a pout settled on his face, bottom lip pushed out just slightly, eyes downcast. He looks almost…pathetic really for someone who has the potential to be dangerous. A mean looking bruise grabs at his jaw and annoyingly, it almost makes you cave right there and then.

“Will you stop doing that!” You snap, pitching a tube of lipgloss in his direction. “The idea of dying from a heart attack is so embarrassing. I either die in an epic shoot-out, or I simply just do not die.”

Catching the tube with one hand Jason grumbles and flops face-first onto your bed, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” He whines, voice muffled by the duvet. “I bought us facemasks. You’re denying me beautifully moisturised skin. This is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“Aw, poor baby.” You mock, standing up from your dresser and draping yourself across his well muscled back. “Is this worse than the time I blew up your microwave? Or the time you asked me to look after your plants and I accidentally killed them?”

Grabbing a pillow, Jason reaches behind him and wacks you with it, “You’re a horrible person and you’re going directly to hell.”

Sniggering, you balance on your knees as Jason shifts underneath you. Once he’s settled so he’s facing upwards you seat yourself comfortably on his stomach. Jason looks at you with nothing but disappointment when you request his attention by sticking a finger in his mouth, but you ignore him and ask, “Will you be there?”

“Get your fucking finger out of my mouth before I bite it off.” He garbles.

“What was that? I can’t understand you.” Grinning to yourself, Jason rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into your finger. He bites down hard enough for it to fucking hurt and you yell whilst yanking it free. “That was attempted murder. You’re definitely going to hell with me.”

Jason doesn’t reply and you feel the pause in the air. It makes you nervous and you can’t decide if it’s in a good way or not.

“You look really nice.” He suddenly blurts out, and you pause in your anxious examination of your now injured finger. He swallows thickly when you look at him like he’s grown another head, pink splotching clumsily across his cheeks. “But you’re missing something.”

“Yeah.” You agree, trying to control your voice without letting him know that your heart is shaking at the bars of your ribs. “A finger without teeth marks.”

The pink starts dipping to caress his throat and you shift just slightly on his lap, getting worked up about just how far down that colour could reach if you pushed him a little more.

Opening his palm, Jason reveals your lipgloss and he twists it open. You expect him to hand it over to you so you can apply it yourself, but Jason–forever full of surprises–reaches out his steady hand and goes to apply it for you.

His swipes with the wand applicator are precise and you rub your lips together to get them evenly coated, but you end up smudging a small blob of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

Jason’s lips quirk up at the edge and he silently wipes the excess away with the pad of his thumb before you get a chance to even raise your hand.

“There you go.” He says, and his voice is thicker than normal, heavier. “Now you look perfect.”

You find yourself lost for words.

It doesn’t happen often. But sometimes you find yourself grasping at thin air, letters slipping between your fingers like sand.

Well, that's not entirely true.

The right letters are there, but you just don’t know how to hold them yet. And you don’t know what would happen if you stopped hoarding them behind your teeth.

How strange that the fear of something unknown can keep you from being happy; how unbelievably human that is.

Touching the tips of your fingers to the bruise on Jason's jaw you sigh, almost like it’s causing you pain. The colour is dark–recent–not yet starting to heal. Jason exhales and tips his head to the side, baring his throat and letting you explore the edges of the bruising. His eyes slip closed and there's a yearning throb inside you swelling up at just how much trust Jason has in you to be vulnerable.

His hands come to rest on your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. Sweeping your fingers at the very bottom of the discolouration something catches your eye.

A thin white line stretching across his jugular.

It looks like he’s had this throat sliced open.

Pulling your hand back you say Jason’s name in a near horrified whisper and he turns his head to look at you. There’s something there, written in the lines of his face and the way he looks at you–like you’re everything–but neither of you say a word.

A sudden smile lights up your face despite the sharp wedge of something like grief in your chest and you plant a sticky kiss across Jason’s cheek, “Mwah!”

“Fuck you so much.” Jason says, shoving your head away and wiping the lipgloss from his cheek, but he smiles back at you, Lazarus eyes glittering. “For the record–”

“Oh no you don’t. If the next words out of your mouth are something stupid like, ‘for the record I know you ate the leftover pizza in my fridge last night’ then I’m not listening.”

“For. The. Record…” Jason starts again, “If you’re with me in hell. Then it’s not hell.”

“You’re such a fucking sap, Todd.” Shoving your entire palm in his face he makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and swats at your thigh. “Sweet talk isn’t going to make me stay home tonight. I’m going out and it’s going to be fun!”

**

You’ve got seven messages to say your friends are waiting outside and you wrestle open your door with a growl then turn to face Jason who’s sprawled out on your couch.

“If I don’t text you by one–”

“I’ll come look for you.” Jason finishes. He’s got a mug of tea in his hands and he picks up the book he left on your coffee table the last time he was at your apartment. “Have fun! Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Pfft. I’ve never been stupid a day in my life.”

“Hey! Remember that time when you–”

“Nope!” You interject loudly whilst Jason laughs. “I’m leaving now.”

**

Your shoes keep sticking to the floor.

Resting with one elbow on the bar you sip at your drink and throw a glance around the crowded club. Bodies are jammed together on the dancefloor and as the music swells the crowd rises to match. The entire atmosphere is electric, the push and pull of thrumming bass and alcohol making your hips sway easily to the beat.

“Well hello there, pretty thing. Can I buy you a drink?”

Pointedly glancing down at the glass in your hand with a slight quirk of your mouth you look up and make eye contact with the guy standing beside you. The first thing you notice is that he looks completely out of place; like he would be more at home somewhere quiet. He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt and you quickly realise that he’s nervous.

It’s almost endearing if not for the whole ‘pretty thing’ thing.

“God.” He says, laughing to himself and rubbing the back of his neck. “That was absolutely horrible–there’s literally a drink in your hand. I’m so sorry. I must admit, this isn’t usually something I do.”

Across the club you watch as your friends zero in on you, waiting for any sign you need intervention–or an escape. Just the knowledge that they’ve got your back is enough for you to loosen your shoulders slightly.

The air around you twists and swells. Someone else has your back too.

“I agree. That was horrible. I mean, pretty thing? Really?” Someone says from behind you, their voice eerily familiar and sharp. A firm arm snakes around your middle and the memory of having that same thick arm wrapped around you whilst you slept flashes bright behind your eyes. “She’s not interested.”

You've never heard Jason sound like that before. He sounds almost possessive, maybe even jealous and it feels like someone just jammed a taser into your ribs and shot you full of fifty-thousand volts.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You ask, leaning back against his chest, skin warm and buzzing. “But also, thank fuck you’re here. Did you hear that guy? Pretty thing? Seriously? I’ve never felt more objectified.”

Jason laughs and rests his head on your shoulder, “It was boring waiting for you to get back and I didn’t feel like doing facemasks on my own. What are you drinking?”

“Something fruity.” Comes your response and you lift the glass so Jason can take the straw between his teeth. “Are you sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Humming as he takes a sip Jason lets the straw go and turns so he can press his mouth against the shell of your ear, “And if I did miss you?”

Your whole body shudders at the tone of his voice and you just barely manage to stop the whine from coming out of your mouth. His arm tightens around your waist and you can’t deny just how good it feels to have him close like this.

“You could have just called. I would’ve come home, you know?”

“I did call.” Jason rumbles, and you pull out your phone to check. “See. I called you twice and you didn’t answer. You’ve really hurt my feelings.”

“Oh here we go again. You’re always talking about your feelings.” Jamming your elbow backwards and into his ribs, Jason recoils in offence. “I hurt your feelings when I stole all your socks. I hurt them when I burnt that cake in your oven. I even hurt them that one time I laughed when you fell down the stairs.”

“I can’t help that I’m sensitive!” Jason defends, the pitch of his voice touching the roof. He shifts to pinch your waist and you smack the back of his hand.

Patting his arm you spin around to face him, and when you glance up at him you suddenly turn thoughtful–emotional.

“You’ve just got a big heart.” You say softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through the white streak in his hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jason pauses, and you let your hand drop back to your side.

“And yet you laugh at me when I fall down the stairs.”

“Of course.” You deadpan. “Because it’s really fucking funny.”

**

You took your shoes off a few blocks back and they’re hanging from your fingers as Jason gives you a piggy-back ride home. You were fine until you stepped one foot outside the club and then the hit of somewhat fresh air sent your head spinning.

“I really hope my ass isn’t out.” You mumble, head resting on his shoulder. “No one needs to see what underwear I’ve got on.” Jason sighs like every word out of your mouth causes him physical pain. “At least I hope I’ve got underwear on.”

“You are a goddamn disaster.” He says, mostly to himself. Shifting you further up his back when you start to slide down he grumbles, “For fucks sake you’re not making this easy.”

“I live to please.”

“I think I might actually hate you just a little bit.”

“Rude. Now you’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Now, now, pretty thing.” Jason mocks. “Having your feelings hurt is my thing, not yours. So shut up.”

Breaking out into giggles you tuck your face into Jason’s neck and sigh, “The only person I want to call me pretty is you, Jay.”

“Well I’m not going to do it now.”

Without thinking you sink your teeth into his neck and bite down hard enough for it to bruise. Jason stops dead in the middle of the street, his rough hands flex around your thighs and you honest to god hear him moan.

It sounds almost exactly the same as it does on the videos and you shiver.

“Y’make such pretty noises, Jason.” You praise, and run your tongue along the indents of your teeth in his skin. Goosebumps flare up his forearms and you feel him swallow. You wonder for a split second if he’s blushing again. You wonder how far down it goes this time. “My sensitive boy.”

Yawning loudly, you slump your head back against his shoulder, and Jason starts walking forwards again, his pace uneven.

“M’tired.” You slur, half asleep.

“Almost there.” Jason reassures, “My pretty girl.”

**

[debonairprincesposts]

Absolutely loved your Lucifer x Son reader!! Can we get a part 2? Im eager to see how Charlie and the gang may react!

Hello Anon! Here’s my take on what would’ve happened in the aftermath. As requested. Wasn’t really planning on making more content relating to this Au, but here we are! This is the last one, I hope. The gang haven’t met (Name) so they won’t be included in this.

Enjoy (。•̀ᴗ-)✧

Lucifer was basically contemplating every bad decision he's ever made in his life as he stares at the face of his unconscious son.

He barely managed to save (Name)’s wing by reattaching it, but it'll take a while before it's usable again.

Coat and hat off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it in his moment of stress.

Eyes rimmed red from crying, cheeks stained with tears as he rubbed his eyes to get rid of the heavy feeling you usually get from crying so much.

He practically started having a mental breakdown the moment he knew that (Name)’s life wasn’t in any immediate danger. It wasn’t until a few minutes ago that he finally calmed down.

Sitting on a chair next to his son's bed, Lucifer sighs as he puts his face in his hands. He hasn't told Charlie yet. He doesn't really know how he should go about explaining what happened at the palace without freaking her out.

Wounds inflicted by angelic steel take longer to heal. He doesn’t know how long it would take for (Name) to wake up. It’s been about 3 hours since the attack, and he’s been restless ever since.

Still no sign of movement from (Name) as he lays motionless on his bed. The only way Lucifer could tell that he’s even still alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Running his fingers through his hair as he stood up from his chair, reaching for his phone in his pocket, he hesitated to call Charlie. He didn’t know how to disclose the situation to her. There’s no easy way of doing this. I mean- how do you go about telling your child that her brother could possibly end up in a coma after being attacked by bloodthirsty psycho angels! That’s ridiculous! Everything about this is ridiculous! He’s ridiculous! He’s literally the King of Hell! He should’ve done more to ensure the protection of his son! If he just had the time to construct a barrier around his home then maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. If he hadn’t been in a hurry to go save Charlie, he would’ve given it more thought. The fact that (Name) would be left defenseless all by himself with no one to help him. It’s basically a miracle that he even managed to survive all by himself. What with his inexperience in life or death fights. What kind of father would he be if he can’t even protect his children from harm! An incompetent one, he thinks.

His hands shake as he grips his phone. Taking a deep breath, he presses on Charlie’s contact and hopes that everything goes well.

“Dad! Thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been trying to call you ever since you left in a hurry earlier- Is everything alright?” Just hearing Charlie’s voice over the phone makes him want to cry again.

He swallows the lump in his throat, “I-I’m okay, sweetie! It’s just- uhh,” just say it dammit! That’s her brother! She needs to know! “It’s (Name). He- he’s not doing good at the moment.” He cringes at his attempt.

“What?! Is he okay?! What happened?”

“He-,” his throat felt dry as he swallowed, “the palace was attacked.”

“WHAT?! Is (Name) okay?!” Her panicked voice could be heard over the phone. He tried to breathe properly to not breakout into another panic attack. “Dad?! Why aren’t you saying anything?!! You’re scaring me!”

“He’s-,” he winces at the break in his voice before clearing his throat, “He’s okay now! I managed to get here on time before he-,” his voice cracked again as tears wells up in his eyes.

The other side of the line goes silent for a bit. Charlie most definitely heard his pathetic attempt at trying to compose himself.

He clears his throat again, “His wounds are healing. But I don’t know when he’ll wake up.” He settled with. His voice raspy from crying.

On the other side of the line, Vaggie was standing next to Charlie, comforting her as she processes the information she just received. It was just them two in the lobby. Everybody else was either out or resting in their new rooms.

“Do you need me to come over, Dad?” Charlie asks.

“No need for that, apple pie- I’ll stay here until he recovers. You need to stay at your hotel. I can handle it. Promise.”

“Okay,” she swallows, forcing back her tears, “Call me if you need to. Okay, Dad?”

“Of course. Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Bye-,” he hangs up.

“Everything okay, babe?” Asks Vaggie, “You seem pretty worried.”

“Worried? Me? Pshh- no! Not at all! I mean- it’s not like the angels attacked my Dad’s castle and put my brother in a coma!-,” Charlie rambles.

“What?!” Vaggie yells in shock, “Is he okay?”

“Dad said that he’s okay. (Name)’s just resting-,” Charlie starts pulling at her hair. “Why would they attack him! He didn’t have anything to do with any of this!”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything. She just takes Charlie by the hand and takes her to their room as Charlie continues to worry about her brother. Which is valid cuz like- (Name)’s her brother-

When they reach their room, Vaggie takes Charlie by the hand and leads to bed.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay. He’s got your father’s blood flowing through his veins, no? He’ll wake up before you know it- Trust me.”

Charlie sniffles, “You really think so?”

Vaggie nods, “I know so. Now- why don’t we rest and cuddle. We’ve had a long day. I think we deserve some rest, don’t you think?”

Vaggie then helps Charlie change into pajamas as they both lay in each other’s arms in bed.

“Feeling better?” Vaggie asks.

Charlie nods, “I just hope he wakes up soon.” As they both continue cuddling in bed.

Imma be honest y’all. This isn’t my best work. Didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped. Kinda lost motivation half way through. Not sure if you can tell. But anyway! Here’s how I thought it would go. Hope y’all like it! Stay healthy and keep hydrated! ∠(ᐛ 」∠)

Bye babes!

-DebonairPrince

Help support your favorite author by buying them a ko-fi!

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ pregnancy test ୧ matt

summary: y/n finds out she’s pregnant for the second time.

notes: english is not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! 1.2k words.

warnings: fluff, cussing, sad, panic attack.

୨୧

Me and Matt have been dating for the past 5 years, we live together and we also have a 2 years old little kid, called Evie. Well, being honest, Evie wasn’t really expected, but she was never a problem. We do love having Evie at home, even It being a little bit exhausting.

Lately my stomach has not been the best. I've been feeling nauseous all the time. I throw up almost every night, and on top of it, my period is late.

Am I pregnant?

I didn’t told any of this to Matt, and honestly, I really don’t know how he would react. I mean, we never talked about a second child, he never talked about another child, he probably doesn’t even want another child. Fuck really I gotta stop overthinking.

Now, In bed, Matt just fell asleep. And I’m struggling to. I just can’t fall asleep thinking that I can possibly be pregnant.

I get up quietly, trying not to wake up Matt. I go over to the bathroom and I close the door behind me. I look at myself in the mirror. I look tired. I take a deep breath. With shaky hands, I reach out for the pregnancy test that I bought yesterday. I do the test. I wait and wait. I bit my nails stressful. I start getting anxious.

As soon as I check the test, positive. Holy fuck. There’s no way this is actually happening.

My vision blurs, the whole room feels like It’s spinning. I sit on the floor, trying to stay calm. Each breath comes in short, ragged gasps as I fight against the suffocating weight of my anxiety. Tears stream down my cheeks uncontrollably as my heart races. I need Matt. I need to be in his arms. But what will he say?

Im sobbing completely, I can’t see a shit, my panic attack is just getting worst.

I start hearing steps in the hallway. I know it’s Matt, I hide the test behind me. He opens the door. “Babe why are you not in bed-“ Matt's sleepy and concerned voice trails off as he notices me crying on the floor, he automatically sits down next to me and pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me with a comforting strength that I desperately need in that moment.

I bury my face against his chest, my tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as he holds me close. I cling to him desperately, my body shaking with sobs as he holds me tight.

"Shh.. It's okay.. I'm right here for you.. Focus on me babe..” I keep sobbing and crying aggressively, non stop.

Matt cups my cheeks with his hands, lifting my head from his chest. “I need you to take a deep breath in..” He demonstrates how to do It. “Now, let it out..”

After a few moments of breathing, he asks. “Can you please tell me what’s going on love?”

With tears still streaming down my cheeks, I swallow hard, and I finally start talking. “I.. Took a pregnancy test..” With trembling hands, I reach for the pregnancy test hidden behind me, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold it out for him to see.

Matt's eyes widen. Then, without a word, Matt gently takes the test from my trembling hands, his gaze fixed on the plastic stick.

I start feeling desperate, loosing my breath again. “I think I’m pregnant, I’m sorry..”

Matt's expression softens as he looks at me. "Don’t cry.. it’s okay.. It’s not a bad thing.." He murmurs, pulling me into his embrace once more.

"It is a bad thing, Matt" I finally manage to choke out. "I know you don't want this kid."

Matt's arms tighten around me, his embrace a comforting me. "Hey.. hey.." He murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing circles on my back. "I never said that..” He pauses “I know.. Hmm.. I know It wasn’t the plan, but I do want this kid, okay?” He says looking into my eyes.

"It's not that simple, Matt.." I whisper, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. "I can't just pretend that everything is okay when it's clearly not.” I sob, loudly.

He looks at me sadly, not knowing exactly what to answer. “Why don’t we go back to our room and talk better there? Huh?” He says in a comforting tone.

I nod, sniffing. He helps me getting back up and we make our way to the bed. We lay down, I cuddle with Matt, my head on his chest, like a pillow. I cry. He strokes my hair, trying to comfort me. “Are you mad at me?” I lift my head, facing him.

His hand strokes my hair softly as he looks into my eyes. "Hey, listen to me" he murmurs, his voice gentle. "I could never be mad at you, okay?” He pulls me closer. “I could never be mad at you for something like this, don’t overthink It..” He kisses my forehead.

I let out a shaky breath. "I’m scared.." I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "What about Evie, Matt?”

He spreads kisses on my face, and wipes my tears away with his thumb. “Evie will love to have a sister, I promise you.”

“I’m not ready Matt.. What if she feels left out, or if we can't give her enough attention with another baby?” I sniff, sadly. “I’m not even a good mom.." Words catching in my throat.

He pulls away slightly, his brows furrowing with a mix of confusion and frustration. "What do you mean you are not a good mom?" He asks, like I’m lying to his face. "Where is this coming from?"

I stay silent, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. Matt's tone is firm, his frustration evident as he waits for my response.

“Look at me. I don’t wanna hear those words coming out of your mouth ever again.”

"You're an amazing mom. Evie adores you, and so do I. You do the best you can, and that's all that matters. I don’t wanna hear that stupid shit again, do you understand that?”

I struggle to accept his words, the weight of my insecurities. "I'm sorry Matt.." I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks once again. "I'm trying, I really am, I swear... But sometimes, it just feels like I'm not enough.." I completely break down again, crying even more than before.

As I break down in tears once more, Matt pulls me even closer, his arms a comforting shield around me. “Shh..“

“I love you so much, I don’t want you to leave me..” I say sobbing, hugging him the tighter and tighter.

“I love you too.. I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere.” I cling into his body, leaving stains of my tears on his shirt.

"I'm just so scared" I admit, my voice trembling with vulnerability.

“You are safe with me, I’m not leaving you ever.” He keeps looking into my eyes while I avoid eye contact.

I shake my head as a no, getting more overwhelmed about all of this. “I don’t know If I can do this.”

“Everything will be just fine, I promise you.”

After some good twenty minutes, still with his arms around me, I start relaxing again. Tears continue to fall, but they're softer now. He continues to shower me with affection, leaving my face with gentle kisses and soft caresses, his fingers on my hair, I feel the tension slowly melting away, until we both fall asleep.

୨୧

i was so confused about what to do at the end, i hate this sm but i don’t have anything to post 😭😭

[theonottsbxtch]

CHICAGO PT.3 | OP81

an: I LIED IT'LL BE FOUR PARTS IM HOOKED ON WRITING THIS STORY RAHHHH. POSTING THIS BEFORE BED TIME AND IM SO AHHHHHHHHHH!

wc: 6k

warnings: panic attack

part one | part two |

Oscar sat in the half-lit quiet of his apartment, a glass of whiskey in hand, its amber warmth forgotten in his grip. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, displaying emails he hadn’t touched in hours, their urgency faded into the background noise of his thoughts. It had been weeks since the conversation with Lando in the driver’s room, but the memory of it lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

He’d done everything he could to bury the unsettling thoughts since then. Her voice, her soft reassurances, had done their job—at least temporarily. She had always known how to pull him back, how to soothe the churning inside him with just a few words. But now, in the stillness of his apartment, with no race day adrenaline to distract him, the questions began to rise again, clawing at the back of his mind.

A sharp knock on the door broke his spiral of thoughts. Oscar blinked, dragging himself back into the present. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and for a brief moment, a flicker of irritation sparked. He wasn’t in the mood for company. But then he heard Logan’s familiar voice from the other side, jovial and carefree.

“Oscar, buddy, open up!”

With a reluctant sigh, Oscar stood up, downing the rest of his whiskey in one swallow before heading to the door. He opened it to find Logan grinning, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand.

“Thought I’d drop by, see what you’ve been up to,” Logan said as he strolled inside without waiting for an invitation, clearly comfortable in the space. “Figured you’d be brooding alone in here.”

“Is that what people think of me now?” Oscar asked with a wry smile, trying to keep the mood light. He closed the door behind Logan, though his earlier unease hadn’t fully left him.

Logan plopped down on the couch, dropping the beer on the table and cracking one open for himself. “Well, you’ve been a bit... distant since Chicago, haven’t you?” He took a long swig of his beer, then set it down. “But that’s why I’m here. Thought I’d snap you out of it.”

Oscar forced a laugh and sat down next to him, trying to ignore the twist in his gut. “Yeah, just a lot on my plate lately.”

Logan nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. The season’s brutal this year. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Feels like it,” Oscar muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

There was a brief silence, broken only by the quiet hum of the city outside, and for a moment, it felt almost comfortable—almost. Oscar reached for another drink, but Logan spoke up before he could get lost in his thoughts again.

“Oh, right. Meant to tell you,” Logan started, his tone casual but carrying that hint of intrigue that meant he was about to drop something interesting. “I overheard something at the paddock the other day. Lando and Max were having a chat.”

The mention of Lando’s name made Oscar tense, though he hid it behind a quick sip of his drink. He hadn’t seen much of Lando since that conversation about his girlfriend. He’d avoided him, telling himself it was just the busyness of the season, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

“What about?” Oscar asked, trying to sound casual, though his pulse had quickened.

“They were talking about their girlfriends,” Logan said, leaning back on the couch with a grin, clearly amused by the gossip. “Apparently, Lando’s thinking of bringing his girlfriend to the track on Thursday. You know, letting her kid meet Max’s girlfriend’s kid.”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat. Her kid. He hadn’t realised Lando had gotten serious enough with his girlfriend to talk about bringing her child to the paddock. The idea of it—a girlfriend and her child, meeting other drivers’ families—felt like something out of a life he couldn’t quite touch.

“Her kid?” Oscar repeated, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Yeah,” Logan continued, seemingly oblivious to the shift in Oscar’s mood. “Lando’s girlfriend has a son. Seven years old, I think he said. Leo.”

The name hit Oscar like a punch to the gut, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air thicker. Leo. Too close. Too close to Lea. The same age, too. His mind reeled as he tried to process the information.

Leo and Lea. Two names that were now spiralling around his mind, refusing to leave him alone.

“Leo?” Oscar echoed, his throat tight, his hands suddenly clammy.

“Yeah, that’s what Lando said,” Logan confirmed, oblivious to Oscar’s growing panic. “Funny coincidence, huh? I thought of your girl when I heard it. Her daughter’s name is Lea, right?”

Oscar’s stomach churned, the whiskey doing nothing to steady his nerves now. The resemblance between the names—between their situations—was too striking to ignore. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was racing.

“Yeah... Lea,” he muttered, barely able to get the word out.

Logan leaned forward, reaching for another beer, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside Oscar. “Weird how those names are so close, isn’t it? Leo and Lea. Both seven. But hey, probably just one of those things, right? What are the chances?”

What are the chances? Oscar’s mind latched onto that phrase, replaying it over and over as the conversation with Lando echoed in his head. The pieces were there, and now they were beginning to slot into place, no matter how much he wanted to resist it.

Lando had mentioned meeting her a year ago—in America. She had told him about her life in Chicago, about her daughter Lea, seven years old, and raising her alone. But Lando had spoken about Leo, not Lea. A son, not a daughter. That had been the difference that had made Oscar dismiss the thought when Lando first talked about it. But now, with that name echoing in his mind, Oscar could no longer ignore the similarities.

His grip tightened around his glass, fingers digging into the smooth surface as he fought to keep his composure. Could it be her? Could she be Lando’s girlfriend?

The idea seemed absurd, but the doubt was already there, a seed that had been planted and was now sprouting, twisting its roots deep into his mind.

He replayed every moment he’d spent with her, every conversation, every look, every touch. She’d been so convincing, so sincere—or at least, that’s what he had wanted to believe. But now, with this new information, everything felt tainted. Every memory of her seemed to carry an undertone of manipulation, of deception.

He could feel the ground beneath him shifting, the stability he’d clung to for weeks slipping away. His thoughts spiralled, racing between disbelief and bitter realisation.

Logan seemed to sense something off now, watching Oscar with a puzzled expression. “You alright, mate? You’ve gone quiet.”

Oscar forced a tight smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

Logan shrugged, unfazed, as he stood up and stretched. “Well, don’t think too hard. Could be nothing, just me connecting dots that aren’t there. I mean, you and Lando have different types. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Yeah... probably,” Oscar said, his voice strained.

Logan gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Alright, I’ll head out. You should come out with us tomorrow night, clear your head. Don’t let all this racing stuff get to you.”

Oscar nodded absently, barely hearing him. “Yeah, maybe.”

Logan grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, giving Oscar one last wave before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, Oscar was left alone with his thoughts, the silence of the apartment now feeling oppressive. He sank back down onto the couch, his head swimming with a confusion he couldn’t shake.

Could it really be her? Could she have been playing him all this time?

He glanced down at his phone, which lay on the coffee table next to the empty whiskey glass. His fingers itched to pick it up, to call her, to ask her outright if she was lying to him. But what would he even say? He couldn’t just accuse her out of the blue, not without sounding paranoid. And yet, the thought gnawed at him, relentless.

Oscar grabbed his phone, staring at her name in his contacts, his thumb hovering over the screen. Leo. Lea. His head spun with the possibilities, the connections that seemed too close to ignore.

But even as the doubt filled his mind, there was still a part of him that resisted it, clinging to the version of her he knew. The woman he had fallen for. The woman who had whispered sweet promises into his ear, made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t in years. Could that all have been a lie?

His thumb hovered over her name, the phone feeling heavier in his hand than ever before.

For the first time since meeting her, Oscar didn’t press call.

The hours had come and gone and Oscar couldn’t remember getting into bed, but he could remember ever minute he’d spent staring up at his ceiling. It was well past midnight, but sleep had evaded him completely. He hadn't been able to shake the conversation with Logan earlier that evening—the way the name Leo had echoed in his mind, digging into his subconscious, unsettling everything he thought he knew about her.

Leo. Too close to Lea. Too close to her.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand, his fingers moving almost without thought. The list of contacts blurred slightly as his thumb hovered over Lando’s name. He hadn’t spoken to him since their conversation weeks ago unless he had to for work, and despite every instinct telling him not to, Oscar needed answers. He couldn’t let this nagging doubt fester any longer. He needed to know if his suspicions—wild as they seemed—held any weight.

Hey mate, need to talk before the race. You free tomorrow?

He stared at the message, hesitating for a moment before pressing send. The little blue bubble appeared, sitting in the chat like an uncomfortable reminder that he was waiting for something—anything—to help ease his mind. But the longer he waited, the more the silence gnawed at him. Minutes passed, the absence of a response amplifying his anxiety.

Oscar sighed, his thumb tapping on the screen again, this time scrolling down to her name. He stared at her name for a long moment, remembering the way her voice had soothed him so many times before. She'll tell me I'm being ridiculous. She’d laugh softly, maybe tease him for worrying over nothing. She always knew how to calm him down, how to make him forget everything else. He could almost hear her voice in his head.

He typed quickly.

I miss your voice. Can we talk?

He pressed send, staring at the screen as if willing the message to deliver. Seconds ticked by, then a minute, and his heart began to pound when he realised the message hadn’t gone through. Message not delivered. He frowned, watching the error sign blink back at him.

That’s strange.

Oscar tried again, but the message still didn’t deliver. His mind raced through possible explanations. Maybe her phone was off, or she was somewhere without service. She did mention a work trip soon, he thought, trying to rationalise it. It wasn’t the first time her phone had been out of reach for a few hours. He could almost hear her brushing it off when she eventually called him back, laughing about poor reception or how busy she had been.

Still, something about it didn’t sit right with him. He stared at his phone, a sinking feeling growing in his chest. Lando wasn’t responding either. The creeping doubt Logan had stirred earlier began to crawl its way back, more persistent now, digging deeper into his thoughts.

What if...

Oscar quickly shut that thought down. He wasn’t going to drive himself insane with these suspicions. He’d seen this before—the paranoia that came with the pressure of the sport, the constant overthinking. This was just another bout of that, amplified by stress. He was exhausted, running on fumes, and his mind was playing tricks on him. He just needed rest.

I’m overthinking it, he told himself, forcing the words into the forefront of his mind like a mantra. I’m just tired, and everything looks worse when you’re this exhausted.

He set his phone down, determined to let it go. He’d see Lando tomorrow anyway, and she would probably call him back when she was free. There was no point in losing sleep over this, not when he had a full day of media obligations ahead of him. He’d wake up, do what needed to be done, and this would all seem ridiculous in the light of day.

With a heavy sigh, Oscar pulled the duvet over himself and closed his eyes. The cool fabric of the pillow pressed against his cheek as he tried to settle into the bed, but his mind wouldn’t stop buzzing with a million thoughts.

It’s nothing. Stop overthinking it.

But as he lay there, the city’s hum outside his window, the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, and the nagging unease in his gut refused to go away. Every now and then, his eyes would flicker open, glancing at the phone on the nightstand. Every time, it stayed still. Silent. No messages from her. No response from Lando.

Oscar swallowed hard, turning over again, trying to focus on anything else. Tomorrow will clear everything up. He just had to make it to tomorrow.

Eventually, sleep found him, though it was a restless, uneasy kind of sleep, filled with fractured dreams and half-formed thoughts he couldn’t quite remember when he woke up. But the feeling lingered, hanging over him like a storm cloud.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it brought no comfort. He reached for his phone the moment he opened his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping to find some kind of response waiting for him.

But there was nothing.

No reply from Lando. No message from her.

Oscar exhaled sharply, pushing himself out of bed. It’s just one of those things. He had a long day ahead of him, and there was no use in letting his thoughts run wild. He had to focus, get his head back in the game. Just keep going.

He threw on his clothes and readied himself for the day ahead, steeling his nerves for what he hoped would be just another ordinary day. I’ll see them both soon, he thought as he left his apartment, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that followed him like a shadow.

By the time Oscar got to the paddock it was already buzzing with activity as Oscar arrived, the hum of engines, conversations, and the occasional clatter of tools filling the air. He should’ve felt at home here—among the smell of burning rubber, the organised chaos of race day preparations. But today, it all felt distant. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in an unsettling fog of thoughts he’d been trying to shake since the night before.

He adjusted the collar of his team jacket, trying to focus, but the weight of the unease from the night before lingered. No message from her. No word from Lando. He hadn’t been able to ignore the growing knot of doubt, but he had convinced himself this morning that it was nothing. Just a coincidence. It had to be.

As he walked down the main paddock lane, making his way toward the media zone, his phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt for a moment—maybe it was her—but when he glanced down, it was just another email, something about the team briefing later. He sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket, forcing himself to focus on the day ahead.

But then, something caught his eye.

At first, it was nothing more than a flash of red—the colour of a jacket, a familiar silhouette standing just on the edge of the paddock near the Mclaren Hospitality Tent. His eyes narrowed, and his breath caught in his throat as his gaze sharpened. Even from this distance, he could recognize the way she stood, her posture, the easy grace with which she moved. It was her.

She was here.

For a moment, a wave of relief washed over him, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His heart quickened—not with the anxiety of the past few days but with the warmth he always felt when he thought of her. She’s here. Maybe she had come to surprise him. Maybe everything would finally make sense.

His pace quickened as he moved toward her, anticipation swelling in his chest. But as he got closer, something shifted. His smile faltered when he saw someone else approaching her—a man.

Lando.

Oscar  stopped dead in his tracks, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He watched as Lando strode up to her with that same casual confidence he always had, his face lighting up when he saw her. And then, as if the universe was mocking him, Lando leaned down and kissed her.

Oscar  felt the world tilt beneath him.

It wasn’t just a casual kiss, not the kind you give in passing. It was intimate, familiar. The kind of kiss shared by lovers, by people who had spent more than fleeting moments together. Oscar 's breath hitched in his throat as the truth hit him all at once—hard and unforgiving.

Lando's girlfriend. Lando's Leo.

She wasn’t just some distant thought anymore, someone he could call and pretend everything was fine with. She was standing right here, in front of him, in this world that had always belonged to him—and Lando.

Oscar ’s mouth went dry, his pulse hammering in his ears, but it wasn’t over. As if the universe wasn’t done ripping apart the fragile web he had tried to spin for himself, he saw a small boy run toward Lando, his laugh carrying on the wind.

The boy was maybe seven, with light brown hair, bright eyes, and a familiar lilt to his voice. Leo. The name thundered in Oscar ’s mind, each syllable more brutal than the last.

Oscar ’s world stopped.

He watched, frozen, as the boy ran to Lando, and Lando crouched down to scoop him up in an embrace, grinning widely. Lando ruffled the boy’s hair, saying something Oscar  couldn’t hear from where he stood, but it didn’t matter. He could see everything he needed to know. Lando wasn’t just playing the role of a stand-in or a casual boyfriend—he was in this, fully, deeply. This was a life. Their life.

Oscar ’s breath came in shallow, ragged bursts as the full weight of it all crashed down on him. She wasn’t just with Lando. She had a whole other life with him. A life that included a child—a child he had heard so much about from her, though she had called him by another name. Lea had become Leo, and everything Oscar  had thought he knew was a lie.

His mind reeled as he tried to piece together how long this had been going on. How long she had been playing them both. Weeks? Months? The entire time he had known her? How many nights had she soothed him with her voice, made him believe he was special to her, while she was building this life with someone else?

His hands trembled as he stood there, watching them interact like a family. She had her arm wrapped around Lando’s waist now, smiling up at him in a way that made Oscar ’s stomach churn. She looked at Lando with that same softness, that same vulnerability that had made Oscar fall for her in the first place.

How could I have been so blind? The thought ripped through him, bitter and sharp. Every moment with her replayed in his mind now, but with a new, ugly clarity. The subtle evasions, the too-perfect explanations, the way she’d disappear for days at a time, only to come back with a sweet excuse. He had ignored it all, let himself believe she was everything he wanted her to be because he had been desperate to feel something again.

The paddock noise swirled around him, the laughter, the chatter of mechanics, the distant rumble of engines. But all of it faded into the background as his eyes locked on her and Lando.

For the first time, Oscar  didn’t feel the familiar rush of race day energy. There was no excitement, no focus on the task at hand. All he felt was a gnawing sense of betrayal, an emptiness that spread through his chest like ice. He had been so utterly hooked on her, had built this fantasy around her in his mind, and now, that fantasy was crumbling before his very eyes.

Without realising it, he had taken a step backward, then another, retreating from the sight in front of him. His mind screamed at him to confront her, to demand answers, but his body refused to move. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the betrayal itself or the realisation that he hadn’t seen it coming.

As he turned and walked away, the weight of it all pressing down on him, he felt as if he were walking through molasses, his legs heavy, his breath shallow. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but he knew now that there was nothing left to ask. Everything was laid bare before him.

He had fallen for her, believed her, let her into the deepest parts of himself. And all the while, she had been building something else, something real, with someone else.

He thought back to that night he had first met her in Chicago, that intoxicating smile, the softness in her eyes when she talked about her daughter. And now, standing here in the aftermath, he saw it for what it had been all along—a performance.

Oscar had been nothing more than a passing act in her show, and now the curtain had fallen.

Oscar didn’t know how far he had walked. His legs moved mechanically, one foot in front of the other, carrying him away from the scene that had shattered him. The sound of laughter, engines, and the bustling paddock faded into the background as a growing numbness took over. His hands were shaking, and his chest tightened with each breath, the weight of it all sinking in.

He stumbled around a corner, finding himself in a quiet service alley behind the team garages, where crates and equipment were stacked in neat rows. The world felt distant, blurred at the edges, and the air felt too thin. He leaned against the cold metal of a container, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

I can’t breathe.

His mind raced, the images of her and Lando flashing like daggers in his thoughts. Her smile, her lies, the little boy running to Lando—it all collided in his head, creating a vortex of disbelief and betrayal. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, erratic beat that refused to slow. His vision started to blur, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

Get a grip. But the command felt impossible. His lungs wouldn’t fill with air, his thoughts were spinning out of control, and the walls of the alley seemed to close in around him.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, but they sounded distant, like they were coming through a fog. Before he could react, a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Oscar?" It was Logan.

Oscar tried to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t even lift his head to meet Logan’s gaze. His body trembled, his hands clutching at the front of his jacket as if trying to hold himself together.

“Mate, what the hell—are you okay?” Logan’s voice was sharp with concern as he rushed to his side, grabbing Oscar by the shoulders. He crouched down, his face close, searching Oscar's eyes for any sign of response. But Oscar could only shake his head, his breaths coming faster and more ragged.

“I—I can’t—” Oscar gasped, his voice barely a whisper. The pressure in his chest was unbearable, like he was suffocating under the weight of everything that had just happened. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the panic, but it overwhelmed him.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me. Focus on me. Slow down,” Logan urged, his voice calm but firm. He placed a hand on Oscar’s chest, matching the rise and fall of his shallow breaths. “In. Out. Come on, slow it down.”

Oscar tried to follow Logan’s instructions, his chest rising in shallow, broken attempts. Each inhale felt like a battle, but Logan’s steady voice anchored him, pulling him out of the spiralling panic. Slowly, painfully, his breathing began to slow, and the fog in his mind lifted just enough for him to focus on the present moment.

“Good. Keep going. You’re okay,” Logan murmured, keeping his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, steadying him.

It felt like hours passed before Oscar could breathe properly again, the tightness in his chest easing ever so slightly. His hands were still trembling, but his mind had slowed enough to process what had just happened. The panic still lingered, like a storm waiting on the horizon, but at least for now, he could breathe.

Logan stayed crouched beside him, his brow furrowed with concern. “What the hell happened? You looked fine earlier. What’s going on?”

Oscar swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn’t know where to begin. How could he even explain this? How could he put into words the chaos that had just upended everything he thought he knew?

“Logan…” His voice was hoarse, raw from the struggle to breathe. “It’s… it’s her.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern to confusion. “The girl from Chicago? What about her?”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. His voice cracked as he spoke, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. “She… she’s with Lando. I just—God, I just saw them. They were together, and there’s a kid—Leo. She told me she had a daughter, but… but that’s her son, Logan. That’s her son.”

Logan’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face as he took in Oscar’s words. “Wait, what? Lando? And—Jesus. What?”

Oscar nodded, his stomach turning as he relived the moment he had seen them together. “I didn’t know, Logan. I had no idea. She never told me. She’s been playing me this whole time. And Lando, he… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Logan was silent for a moment, his jaw tight as he processed what Oscar was saying. “And you’re sure it’s the same girl?”

“Positive. I saw them together,” Oscar said, his voice thick with disbelief. “She was with Lando, and the kid… I just—I can’t believe it. She’s been lying to both of us. I don’t even know how long it’s been going on.”

Logan let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, mate. That’s… that’s messed up. How the hell did she pull this off? You’ve been with her for—what, months?”

“Since Chicago,” Oscar muttered, his hands clenched into fists. The anger was rising now, replacing the panic with a burning sense of betrayal. “She’s been playing me for months, Logan. And the worst part is, Lando doesn’t know. He’s out there thinking he’s got a family with her, and she’s just… she’s been lying to him too.”

Logan rubbed his face, clearly at a loss for words. “Mate, this is… this is bad. You need to talk to Lando. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

Oscar shook his head, his throat tightening again. “I don’t even know how to start that conversation. How am I supposed to tell him that the woman he’s in love with has been stringing me along for months?”

“I know it’s hard, but he deserves the truth,” Logan said gently. “He’s your teammate. You owe it to him to tell him what you know.”

Oscar let out a long, shaky breath. Deep down, he knew Logan was right. Lando deserved the truth. But the idea of confronting him, of shattering the life Lando thought he had with her—it felt impossible. How could he do that to someone he cared about?

“How do I even begin?” Oscar whispered, more to himself than to Logan.

“You just do. Lando deserves to hear it from you, not from anyone else,” Logan said firmly. “Trust me, the longer you wait, the worse it’s going to get. You need to talk to him before this whole thing blows up even worse.”

Oscar nodded, though the thought made his chest tighten again. He knew Logan was right. He had to face this. He had to talk to Lando. Even if it meant tearing down the life Lando thought he had built.

“Okay,” Oscar said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. Before the race.”

Logan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing, mate. You’ve got this.”

But as Oscar stood there, still trembling from the panic and the weight of the truth pressing down on him, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to face what was coming next.

Before the race Oscar stood outside Lando’s driver room, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest. His palms were clammy, his breath shaky, and his mind was racing with every possible way this conversation could go wrong. He had rehearsed it a hundred times since Logan found him—how he would explain everything, how he’d try to soften the blow. But now, standing here, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

His hand hovered over the door for a moment, hesitation gripping him. What if Lando didn’t believe him? What if he got angry? Oscar wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the storm that was about to hit.

He deserves the truth. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Oscar knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, and there stood Lando, already dressed in his race suit, looking every bit the calm, collected driver he always was before a race. But today, Oscar could see the excitement in his eyes, the eagerness. It made his stomach turn.

“Oscar, mate! What’s up?” Lando asked, grinning. He stepped back, motioning for Oscar to come inside. “You ready for the big day?”

Oscar forced a smile, though it felt weak and awkward. He stepped inside, the air thick with tension he wasn’t sure Lando could feel yet. The motorhome was quiet, the sound of the paddock fading into the background as the door shut behind him.

“Yeah, uh… about that…” Oscar started, his voice already cracking under the weight of what he was about to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his heart thudding against his ribs. “I need to talk to you. About something serious.”

Lando’s smile faltered just a little, his brow furrowing. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling the nerves coil tight in his chest. This was it. No turning back.

“It’s about your girlfriend,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. The name hit the air like a bomb, and Lando’s face immediately darkened.

“My girlfriend?” Lando repeated, his expression shifting to confusion. “What about her?”

Oscar hesitated, feeling the weight of every word that was about to come out of his mouth. His throat was dry, and he suddenly wished he had some water, something to buy more time. But there was no time. It had to be now.

“I… I didn’t know she was with you,” Oscar said, the words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. Lando, I’ve been—God, I’ve been seeing her. She never told me about you.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Lando’s eyes narrowed as the meaning of Oscar’s words sank in, his confusion giving way to something darker—anger.

“You’ve been what?” Lando’s voice was low, dangerous, a tone Oscar had never heard from him before. “You’ve been seeing her?”

Oscar held up his hands, trying to keep his own panic in check. “I swear, I didn’t know, mate. I didn’t know she was with you. She told me she was single, raising her kid on her own. I had no idea you were with her. Not until I saw you together today.”

Lando took a step back, his face twisted in disbelief and fury. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in the small space, his movements sharp, agitated. “Are you telling me you’ve been with her this whole time? The whole time we’ve been together?”

Oscar nodded, feeling like the ground beneath him was about to give way. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, his voice shaky. “I met her in Chicago months ago. She told me she had a daughter, that she was a single mum. I thought… I thought I was helping her.”

Lando let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Helping her? You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s been with me for a year! She’s been my girlfriend, Oscar. What the hell were you thinking?”

Oscar winced, the guilt tightening around his chest. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was just… I was hooked on her. She had me completely fooled.”

Lando’s face was a mask of rage now, his fists clenched at his sides as if he were holding himself back from hitting something—or someone. “You’re telling me this now, before the race? What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Oscar?”

“I’m sorry,” Oscar said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you deserve to know. I had no idea she was with you. I only put it together when Logan mentioned Leo—her son.”

Lando stopped pacing, his face going pale at the mention of Leo. “Leo?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, Oscar saw something other than anger in his friend’s eyes—something like fear. “Who told you his name was Leo?”

Oscar nodded, swallowing hard not knowing how to navigate this topic any further. “She told me she had a daughter named Lea.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, like the eye of a storm. Then, slowly, Lando sat down on the edge of the small bed, his head in his hands. Oscar stood frozen, unsure of what to do, unsure if he should say more or just leave.

“She played us both, didn’t she?” Lando muttered, his voice hoarse, filled with disbelief. “She’s been playing me this whole time.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, nodding, though he still couldn’t fully believe it himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think she has.”

Lando shook his head, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. “I should’ve known something was off. She always had these excuses, always disappearing for days at a time. I thought she was just… I don’t know, giving me space. Or with her kid. But now? Now it all makes sense.”

Oscar sat down across from him, the weight of the truth settling heavily between them. “I should’ve seen it too. But I was too caught up in her. I wanted to believe her so badly that I didn’t question anything.”

They sat in silence for a long time, both of them grappling with the betrayal, with the web of lies she had spun so carefully around them. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was no longer directed at each other. They had both been played, both drawn into her orbit without realising they weren’t the only ones.

“What are we going to do?” Lando finally asked, his voice flat, almost numb.

Oscar shook his head, still unsure. “I don’t know. But we can’t let her keep doing this.”

Lando clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening as he stared at the floor. “You’re right. She’s not getting away with this. Not anymore.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, but his heart was still heavy. The woman he had fallen for, the woman he had trusted, had betrayed him in the worst way possible. But it wasn’t just about him anymore. Lando was hurting too, and that made it all the more unbearable.

As the weight of their conversation settled into the room, Oscar felt a slow, creeping nausea rise in his chest. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the realisation that this wasn’t some accident—this wasn’t some chance encounter where they’d both been caught off guard by the same woman. No. She had known exactly what she was doing.

He stared at the floor, the memories flooding back in sharp, painful clarity. The first night in Chicago, the way she had appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to him with that effortless grace, that smile that had seemed too good to be true. The way she’d known exactly how to draw him in, offering just the right amount of vulnerability to make him want to protect her. All those months, he’d thought it had been fate, a serendipitous meeting. But now, with Lando sitting across from him, every detail took on a darker shade.

“Lando…” Oscar’s voice cracked, barely able to say the words. “She knew about me, didn’t she? From the beginning.”

Lando looked up, his eyes still clouded with shock but now narrowing as if trying to piece together the puzzle himself. “What do you mean?”

Oscar took a shaky breath. “You’ve mentioned me to her, haven’t you? Before I even met her in Chicago, you must have talked about me. About the team. She… she knew who I was before she ever sat down next to me at that bar.”

Lando’s face paled. His gaze shifted to the floor, his mind working through the same awful revelation that had struck Oscar. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I mentioned you all the time. You’re one of my best mates. Of course, I talked about you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Oscar’s stomach turned as he recalled every little interaction with her—the way she’d seemed to know exactly what to say, how to flatter him without being too obvious, how to make him feel like he was the one discovering her, unravelling her layers. But it was all calculated. She’d had him pegged from the moment she walked in, likely before that.

“She didn’t just randomly pick the seat next to me at the bar,” Oscar said, his voice low, thick with bitterness. “She knew exactly who I was, Lando. She played us both from the start.”

Lando sat there, silent, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at his hands. His fingers twitched like he wanted to punch something, anything, but he stayed still, the tension simmering just below the surface. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“She’s been manipulating both of us,” he muttered, his voice a growl of disbelief. “I told her about my life. My friends. My job. And all that time… she was using it against me. Against you.”

The full scope of her deception crashed down on Oscar. He felt sick to his core. She’d never cared. Every sweet word, every glance, every night they’d spent together—it had all been part of her plan. She had known exactly who he was and had targeted him, exploited his loneliness, his vulnerability.

The first time they had kissed, that electric moment in her apartment, had seemed so real. He could still feel the warmth of her hands on his skin, the way her lips moved against his as if they had been made for each other. But now it felt cheap. Hollow. A lie that had wrapped itself around him until he could barely breathe.

"She must have known everything about me before she even introduced herself," Oscar continued, his voice darkening with anger. “That night at the bar, the way she played coy, like she didn’t know me from Mclaren. It was all an act. A setup.”

Lando was silent for a moment, still staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he looked up at Oscar, his expression hard. “She probably knew exactly how to make you fall for her. She listened to me talk about you enough. Your hobbies, your career, your life. She had every piece of ammunition she needed.”

Oscar could feel his pulse quickening again, a sick mix of rage and humiliation rising in his throat. She hadn’t just lied—she had orchestrated everything with precision, knowing full well how to ensnare him. And the worst part? He had let her. He had fallen for every carefully laid trap.

"She played the long game," Oscar whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I thought… I thought it was real. I thought she was real.”

“I did too,” Lando muttered bitterly. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the disgust that was settling over him. “God, how could we have been so blind?”

Oscar swallowed hard, the bitterness turning into something darker, more dangerous. He could picture her face so clearly—those dark, hypnotic eyes that had drawn him in from the very beginning, the way she tilted her head just enough to make him think she was letting her guard down for him. And all along, she had been playing him like a violin, hitting every note perfectly.

“She knew what she was doing,” Oscar said, his voice thick with fury. “She knew exactly what she was doing, Lando. She was never confused. Never torn. She set us both up like pieces on a chessboard.”

Lando’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he nodded in agreement. “She knew how to make us feel like we were the ones in control, like we were helping her. But she was pulling the strings the whole time.”

They both sat in silence, the weight of their shared betrayal settling into the room like a storm cloud. Neither of them spoke for what felt like minutes, both of them lost in the horrible realisation of just how thoroughly they’d been manipulated.

“I can’t believe it,” Lando finally said, his voice hollow. “I can’t believe she was capable of this.”

Oscar shook his head slowly, the ache in his chest deepening. “I guess people like her… they don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want.”

And that was the bitter truth. She had never cared about either of them. She had only cared about what she could take, what she could gain. And they had both been too blind, too caught up in her web to see it.

“What do we do now?” Lando asked, his voice a mixture of anger and defeat.

Oscar didn’t have an answer. His whole world felt like it had been ripped apart, every certainty he had stripped away. He didn’t know what came next. But one thing was clear— She wasn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.

“We tell her it’s over,” Oscar said firmly, though his heart ached even as he said it. “She doesn’t get to play us anymore.”

Lando nodded, his jaw set. “She’s not getting away with this.”

But even as they made their decision, Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that the damage had already been done. He had given a part of himself to her that he couldn’t get back, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was all a lie, the hurt lingered like an open wound.

As they prepared to face her, Oscar couldn’t help but wonder how much of him had been taken in by her. How much of him was still trapped in that web she had spun so perfectly around him.

And whether he would ever truly be free of her.

part four

tag list: @iimplicitt @hearts4acemyluv @a-beaverhausen

[brighttears]

Safe

Joel Miller x reader

no physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: After a startle at breakfast in Jackson, Joel calms you down from a panic attack.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: graphic depictions of panic attack, negative self talk, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, darling)

A/n: just a lil somethin :3 also the panic attack is based off of personal experience just in case anyone is sus im not makin this shit up lol

—

Culture shock is the perfect term to use in relation to what it's like coming into Jackson after months on the road. It’s bright, vividly colored, large, loud, and always so fucking busy. You haven’t been around this many people since Boston, but so much has changed since then. It's been a few weeks now, but you still haven’t even figured out how to let your guard down. 

The dining hall is the worst part of the day. You will yourself to come and eat because you believe it is good for you, you need to get used to it, and you don’t want to other yourself by taking your plate outside. You feel separated enough already, like a wild animal being introduced into a zoo enclosure. But god, the scrapping utensils on plates, chewing, so much conversation, boisterous laughing, people getting up and down from their seats; so much open space with so much activity, you can barely keep your eyes down enough to be able to look at the food you’re trying to get into your mouth. But Joel is always right there with you, with a comforting hand on your thigh, grounding both you and him, eyes flicking around just as much as yours, and a matching sigh of relief once you make it back outside, with a ‘We did it’ or ‘Good job sweetheart’ to pick your spirits up. 

You don’t know what it is about today; nothing you can put your finger on, just some uneasy feeling that you woke up with. Some days are just like this, though, like a scratch you can’t itch somewhere in your brain, irritating your nervous system until whatever it is decides to let you out of its clutches. 

“Come on honey, time to go,” Joel says from the door as he pulls his jacket on. You let out a deep breath, staring out of the kitchen window with your arms crossed over your chest, an absentminded hand smoothing over your throat. Squeezing your arm with your other hand, you will yourself to move, leave the house, go down to the dining hall. Its just breakfast, just breakfast, just fucking breakfast. Come on. You can do this. You’ve been through much, much worse than this. Come on. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice sounds suddenly from right behind you and you jump, sucking in a breath with a defensive hand jutting out towards him. 

“Fuck.” You breath back out, leaning down and pulling your hand back to you electrified chest, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, guilty and embarrassed for reacting like that to Joel, who you know wouldn’t even dream of hurting you. 

“It’s alright darlin’, it’s alright. You’re ok.” He coos. 

Blinking hard, you nod, “Yeah, sorry, you just startled me. I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryna sneak up on ya,”

“No, I know, it’s just… I don’t know, I just feel… off today.” You say as you straighten up.  

Joel meets you slowly, placing his hands on your arms. “You wanna just stay in this mornin’? I can go grab the food or have Tommy or Maria—”

“No, no, I can do it.” You interrupt him and swallow hard. 

“You sure? There’s no shame in—”

“No,” you shake your head, “I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ve been through worse.” You smirk, trying to lighten the mood. 

Joel returns a light smile. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans in for a quick kiss before turning back to the door. His touch relaxes your shoulders and you take one more deep breath before following him outside. As you start down the road, his arm slides around your waist. Even just a small gesture like this from your man makes you feel safer. When you feel his breaths, deliberately deep and even, you follow suit, and the two of you prepare for the upcoming onslaught of breakfast. Despite your efforts, though, you can feel your heartbeat quicken as you near the doors.

As you enter, Joel’s arm slips from around you but you grasp each other's hands as you walk to the table that Tommy and Maria are already sat waiting at, both giving you a smile as you come to your seats. 

“A bit late this morning.” Maria says. 

“Slept in?” Tommy winks.

“No, uh, just, late morning, I guess.” Joel replies, not meeting their eyes, instead instinctively sweeping them over the room. You keep your own eyes locked on the table. 

“You ok?” Maria asks. When you look up, there’s concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, fine.” You throw a smile and look back down at the table, still linked to Joel by your hands.

“Well food’s out and ready, we were just about to grab our own plates.” You hear Tommy. 

“Alright,” Joel says, letting go of your hand and moving to get up from his seat. Just as you finally let your gaze up from the table, a crash and a scream sounds from nearby, and without even thinking, you’re suddenly on your feet, stanced ready, a hand on your empty hip and an arm swung back towards Joel. A yelp escapes from your throat and your entire body is rigid and burning with panic, chest twisted so tight it won’t let you breathe, teeth clamped so hard it hurts.

Then, silence. All there is is your breath, jumping like snapped rubber bands, and the blood rushing in your ears. Eyes still pinned open, you force your neck to move and look around you. Hundreds of eyes look back at you. Everyone is staring. However, your head is empty of embarrassment, still full of threat, threat, threat, threat, threat. 

“It’s alright, honey,” sounds from behind you, then a hand on your arm, and you switch your stance to face the touch, grabbing the hand while your other fumbles for the weapon that is not on your hip. 

“It’s me, it’s jus’ me, baby, it’s alright, it’s me.” 

Your eyes blink rapidly as Joel’s face comes into focus, the blurry haze of panic slowly starting to clear. 

When you try to speak, your breaths stab out from your lungs. “What happened?” You finally get out. 

“Nothin’, sweetheart, someone just dropped somethin’. It’s ok. You’re safe. It’s alright.” He tells you, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “It’s alright.” He whispers, focusing your eyes on his. “It’s alright.”

“Are you ok?” You hear yourself say.

His thumbs stroke your cheeks as he replies, “I’m fine. Nothin’ happened. We’re safe, baby. We’re safe.”

Though your brain is beginning to process and trust his words, you can’t move, only tremble. 

“Alright, let’s get you outta here.” Joel’s eyes come away from yours to flick around you, and that’s when you remember where you are. Muscles moving in snapping spurts, your neck jerks left and right, and still, hundreds of eyes look back at you. Now with room enough for it, embarrassment burns your entire face and neck. 

“It’s alright, honey,” you hear Joel, thumbs stroking your cheeks, bringing your attention back to him in front of you, “let’s jus’ get you outta here.” He nods, then shifts to beside you, one arm around your waist with his other hand rubbing your shoulder. You keep your head bowed, steps jagged with full body tremors. 

As soon as the outside air hits you, you begin to gasp, barely realizing that you’re sobbing. Joel catches you before you collapse. There's the panic, still shooting through you’ve been eletrocuted, but the humiliation is a whole other kind of overwhelming. “Fuck.” You cry into Joel. You bury your face deep into his shirt and jacket to muffle the screams that you can’t hold in. He squeezes his arms around you, rubbing your back, his chin resting on top of your head, whispering, “It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.”

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” You let out into him in between bawls. “I fucking hate this. I hate this.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. Come on, let’s get you back up to the house.”

Your trembling legs continue to betray you and you can’t get yourself to move. 

“I can’t–I can’t move.” You admit. 

“Alright, t’s alright, come on, baby,” He reassures, then hoists you up into his arms. Like a child, you wrap your legs around him, keeping your face buried in his collar, squeezing your eyes shut and attempting—with little success—to calm your breaths. The sobs fall out of you unrelenting as a waterfall. 

By the time you get to the house, your breathing has calmed some, but the shaking won’t stop. When Joel sets you on the ground you hobble up the short steps to the porch and through the door, and he keeps a comforting arm around you as he guides you to sit on the couch. He kneels down before you, stroking your cheek with his hand, trailing his eyes over your panicked frame before focusing them on yours.

“Deep breaths, baby, t’s alright. Deep breaths.” He starts them and you follow, breathing deeply in through your nose, holding, and blowing out through your mouth. 

“Where are we?” He asks. 

“At the–the house.”

“Where’s the house, baby?”

“Jackson. In Jackson.” 

“Thas’ right,” Joel cups your face, “we’re at the compound. We’re safe here, sweetheart. I promise. We’re safe. Nothin’s gonna hurt you.” He nods, you swallow hard and then let out another shaky breath and nod with him. 

Your trembling shoe taps the floor. When you still it, your shoulders start to shake. “Fuck.” You close your eyes, cursing yourself. “I’m so fucking stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’re not stupid. How many times you been here with me like this? This stuff happens. You’re not stupid. T’s alright. Look at me baby,” you do, and he repeats, “T’s arlight. You’re not stupid.” Joel shakes his head, eyes still keeping yours. One hand shifts down to your fist, which you hadn’t even noticed bring clenched closed. “Let me get you some water.”

When he moves to get up, your hand shoots out to grip the lapel of his jacket. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not leavin’, sweetheart. I’m jus’ goin’ to the kitchen. I’ll be right over there. Won’t take two seconds.” Joel gently takes your hand off of his coat, raising his eyebrows with a reassuring look, then gets to his feet. You turn on the couch, watching him go to the sink to fill up a glass for you. “I’m right here, see?” He says on his way back to you. You nod, eyes staying trained on him as he kneels back down in front of you. When the cup shakes in your hand, he keeps his on it, delicately helping it to your lips. The water cools your throat, helping you to ground yourself. You empty it into your throat and then take a couple more deep breaths. “That feel better?” You nod. “Alright.” Joel sighs, setting the glass down on the floor next to him to take your face in his hands again, then bringing his face up to kiss your forehead. “Alright, baby.” He says again. “This stuff happens. I get the same way, I bet plenty a people in there have done the same thing. T’s a lot in there. You’re not used to all that. Neither am I. Todays just a bad day, huh?” You sniffle and nod. “Now, you’re not stupid. Ok?”

“Ok.” you finally speak. 

“Alright. You wanna go lay down?” You nod, voicebox still not too confident. “Come on, darlin’.” Joel lets go of your face, reaching one hand around your back and the other to your legs for you to shift into his arms bridal style. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his collar, inhaling his scent of love and safety as the stairs creak under Joel’s feet taking you upstairs. 

When you look up at him as he lets you down on the bed, his brow is furrowed with concern and there's sadness in his deep eyes. 

Ashamed, you instantly look away. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you worry.”

“Baby I’m gonna worry no matter what you do.” He sits down on the bed next to you and strokes his hand over your cheek again, “You did nothin’ wrong. Don’t go hatin’ yourself for it. It’s not like you did this on purpose. Right?”

You shake your head and lean into his touch. Joel’s eyes land on your lips and remain there until he leans in to kiss you, slipping your bottom lip between his, and you reach your hands up to hang onto him. Knitting your hands into his locks with his stubbly cheek under your hand, you indulge in him. 

Pulling away, he says, “Lay down with me, darlin’,” already with his hand on your back to slowly guide your back down on the bed. He keeps his head above you to meet your lips again, gentle yet firm, honeyed and warm. Closing your eyes, the pressure of his body next to yours, hand on your waist, and his lips on yours begins to relieve the pressure in your bones. Slowly, you feel yourself relaxing, though your foot still twitches in your boot, the residual aftermath of a panic attack. 

Joel’s hand smooths over your cheek as he deepens the kiss, the sigh from his nose breathed over your face. When he pulls away, he shifts his arms to rest his hands on your face and stroke his thumbs over your cheeks. His eyes wander over you with lazy lids, his brow still lightly furrowed and bottom lip slightly pouted and wet from your mouth. He sighs again, then whispers “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” You whisper back, looking over his face. 

Joel leans down to rub his nose back and forth over yours, then sprinkles light kisses over your cheeks, forehead, by your ear, the corner of your mouth, and over your jaw. Then he shifts his body to lie down, tilting your hips towards him with a soft “C’mere,” and you lay your head on his chest, bending your knee to rest your leg over his. Closing your eyes and inhaling again, you let your body weigh into his and grip his lapel. Tears ball up in the corner of your eyes. 

You used to lay like this frequently on the road, keeping each other close, hanging on to the only sanity you knew. The lack thereof surrounding you protected you enough from falling asleep despite the relaxation it granted you, and you’d do it to watch the sun rise or set whenever you could catch it. When you did sleep though, you’d stay united, someone’s head on each other’s chest or leg. 

On the same train of thought as you, Joel speaks, the bass in your ear on his chest, “Maybe sometime we could actually fall asleep like this.”

“Not now, I can’t sleep now.” You mumble. 

“I know, darlin’. Too worked up for it now.” His hand brushes up and down your back, “T’s alright. Jus’ layin’.” Joel smacks a kiss on the top of your head, then sighs again, your head rising and falling with it, and wraps both arms around you. “We got time. N’ we’ll get used to it here. Get used to bein’ safe.”

[bravo4iscool]

Could you maybe make a comfort one with Simon or Soap please? Like the reader has trauma and gets triggered by something and has a panic attack? If not that's okay! You don't have to! <33

but what if i did both👀? hehehehehehehe

this is an amazing idea! since you didn‘t mention if reader is civilian or military i‘ll go with military… but technically this could also be civilian lol

all i know about ptsd i know because one of the main characters of my favourite series (ray perry from seal team) struggled with ptsd after he was taken hostage. i’m in no way a expert about this whole topic or anything else…

reader‘s call sign is „venom“. and for the love of god idk how to imitate a scottish accent, so please don’t hate me cuz i didn‘t do it🧍🏼

btw IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG! i’m in my final 10 weeks of school and it’s so stressful😭😭

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

john „soap“ mactavish

soap didn‘t know that something was off. he suspected something—maybe—but he wasn‘t 100% sure. so, when you start to disassociate, your pupils dilating he at first wasn‘t sure how to act.

„ey, ey!“ he nudges your shoulder, a visible frown on his face. „venom? venom, hey!“ you don’t answer, your gaze darting around the room.

he waits another second, wondering if you’ll answer but then it clicks and he knows what’s going on. you’re having a ptsd period.

he carefully stepped away from you and looks around. he needs to find out what exactly triggered you. “i’m gonna step away for a second, okay?” he tells you, taking one step after the other.

your head twitches but you don’t answer, only stumble back a little bit. soap wasn‘t unfamiliar with ptsd, ghost suffered from it too, but he didn‘t know you had to fight it. you‘ve always acted to strong and put together, so what was your trigger?

„soap?“ your weak, rasp voice calls out for him and immediately he’s beside you again, his hand reaching out for you. „soap, don‘t go,“ you plead, your hands shaking when you grasp him, your knuckles white and your grip bruising. you choke out a, „don‘t leave me.“ and he promises he won‘t.

„i‘m here,“ he assures you, carefully and gently removing your hands from his arms and placing them around his waist so he can properly hug you. „i won‘t leave; ever.“

you sink into the hug, your hands crunching up his shirt with your grip. you were save, no? you were safe…

you weren’t…there. you were here; with soap. he was holding you, keeping you sane. you didn’t need to worry about anything.

he’d keep you safe.

simon “ghost” riley

the moment simon realizes you’re having another ptsd episode he’s beside you, his hand hovering over your cheek.

“stay w’me, venom,” he murmurs, his gaze searching for yours. “c’mon… stay w’me.”

when you make no sign to move he slowly exogenous his hand so it fully cups your cheek and he pulls you close.

your hands slightly tremble and you look at him with blown eyes. your breath is staggered and you feel this familiar yet unwanted rustling in your ears. you want it to stop.

“take deep breaths love,” simon instructs you as he cradles you hand in his to hold it against his chest. “j’st like i do.”

tears start to gather in your eyes while you try to focus on simon but your thoughts were screaming at you, dragging you down that hole you didn’t want to drown in.

“y’doin’ amazing,” he whispers in a gentle voice, his other hand pulling your heard against his chest with careful hands. “j’st like that. perfect.”

you let out a couple of chocked hiccups as you try to relax against simon’s body, doing all the tasks therapy taught you.

“‘m sorry,” you swallow in a voice rough from crying.

“no, none of that,” simon frowns. “y’doin’ exactly what y’were taught.” his one hand tightens over your that’s laying on his chest, his other he buries in your hair. with a careful movement he places his chin on top of your head.

“d’nt ever apologize f’havin’ problems,” he tells you in a quiet voice, his hold on you tightening.

he’d never let you go.

[unholyhelbig]

im in love with werewolf!kate

Title: Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot [5/?]

Summary: After reader is attacked by a strange animal in the woods, her world is flipped upside down. Now she must navigate a new life filled with strangers and myths.

Trigger warnings: Talk about werewolf transformations, crying, group interventions [?], and definate spelling/grammar mistakes

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five]

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts

The compound seemed impersonal upon your second visit. It was nothing compared to the shitty apartment you had left earlier in the day. There were leaky ceilings and college students that would blast their music until dawn- but it had been home. It had been home, and this was anything but. This was an overwhelming smattering of scents that aggravated your already tepid nerves.

Without Kate close by panic began to bubble up in your stomach. Then anger. That anger that she had mentioned outside of your building was there too and though you didn’t want to admit it, you had to. Kate Bishop had ruined your life and the fact that you sought her out so heavily filled you with white hot rage. So why did you need her so badly?

In an attempt to ease your nerves, they had separated the two of you two seconds after you’d walked back through the doors. Word seemed to travel fast around here, and you took a mental note to keep your mouth shut in all situations. It had been over an hour since Kate was dragged away by Clint and that ache in your chest grew malicious.

“There’s an electrically charged fence around the bulk of the property but it’s 165 acres of pure natural land. There’s a lot of space to run, but there’s not much way to escape.” Wanda Maximoff explained things to you like a recipe.

She had taken you on the grand tour, though the house was mostly cleared out. It was clear that they were trying not to scare you. There was an array of smells, and each was distinct, though it was behind closed doors. There was an in-house gym and a myriad of offices and bedrooms on the second floor. There was a library too, one that had more books than the location on campus.

Wanda seemed like the best choice to give you the grand tour. Though, you had yet to meet more than Clint and Natasha, and a few others distantly. There had to be a reason that she was the one easing you into this. She smelled of cinnamon and that sharp metal scent that seemed to accompany them all.

You now.

You had stopped walking in the middle of the lush green yard. In turn, so had she. Her gaze was on you and sympathetic. There was a buzz to the fence, one that you could hear from the spot that you were rooted in. Leaves rustled and small critters made noises that you were not supposed to hear, but you could.

“Not much?” You let out a burning breath that you had been holding in. “Pardon me for being rude, but if it’s so secure how did Kate… get out?”

Wanda swallowed hard and closed the distance between you. She had a pitying look in her stare that somehow didn’t enrage you. Instead, it reminded you of your mother. Of course, she’d been the right choice. You could see that a mile away.

“Kate is an extremely powerful and reckless individual. She has an incredible amount of heart but sometimes that gets her in trouble. When you change, and you will change, you’ll understand the yearning a bit more. Usually, your wolf will be satiated with just feeling free- hence all the land. But sometimes there is an emotion so strong that there is no option other than to obey.”

“There’s an emotion strong enough to make her break through an electric fence and attack me?”

She snorted out a laugh, glancing up at the fading blue of the sky. There was a stronger chill to the air as the sun dipped behind the horizon. A fishbone moon was hanging in the air. It was never something that you paid much attention to before. But you were quite thankful that it wasn’t full. That wasn’t something you could handle anytime soon.

“Y/n, did Natasha mention that the two of us are together?”

“No, she didn’t.” You frowned, testing the waters “You’re so… and she’s so…”

“Oh, she’s an absolute hard ass. I’m well aware. She’d dumped her coffee all over the front of my shirt when we first met and apologized by paying for a new one. Natasha wrote her number on the side and wee dated for nearly a year before she told me her secret.”

The two of you started walking again, this time along a carved path that rested at the mouth of the backyard. Soon the grass devolved into underbrush and large stretching oak trees. Gravel crunched under the soles of your shoes. The rage shifted it’s way back into the small of your mind.

“I was taken aback, understandably. The woman I had fallen in love with sat me down and when I thought she was going to break up with me she told me she was a mythical creature instead. And I was mad. I thought she was lying and making excuses instead of being honest.”

Wanda let out a shaky sigh, one that was wracked with memories of what seemed to be a simpler time. There was a fondness in her stare that you craved in a selfish way. Because you wanted to feel that fondness for Kate, but it hadn’t quite bubbled to the surface yet.

“For almost a month, I didn’t speak to her. But on the night of the full moon, my curiosity got the better of me and I showed up at her house unprompted. It took some convincing. Natasha isn’t one for vulnerability, especially when that vulnerability is something that could cause me physical harm but I’m persistent.”

“You uh, I don’t know the terminology” there was a pause “you watched her become…”

“I did. And I’m not going to sugar coat this for you because it is not a pretty sight, and it is far from painless. But I believed her. Finally, I believed her and though I wanted to run there was a moment between the bones breaking and the screaming, where that honesty seeped out of Natasha like blood. I was her one. I was her person.”

Wanda laughed and shook her head. You’d made it a good way through the path and the sun had fully set behind the horizon, but it didn’t impair your vision one bit. You could see just the same, everything having a gray fuzzy tinge to it.

“Subconsciously, there is a pull in what we are. Natasha told me she knew I was her destiny when she spilled a caramel macchiato on me. And I love her, but I didn’t know just how strong that feeling was until I made the decision to change. To let her change me.”

“You willingly chose this?”

The question had slipped past your lips before you could stop it and you immediately felt guilty about the phrasing. Wanda reached and squeezed your palm with the coolness of her fingers. Comfort shot up your elbow and your shoulder until you felt all the warmth in the world.

“I did. It took a lot of conversation, a lot of planning but I was sure that Natasha was the only one and she was equally sure about me. So yes, I chose. And I am truly sorry that that liberty was stripped from you.” She gave your hand another squeeze. “The wolf that’s inside of you, that primal side is what took Kate over. It’s no excuse, her young naivety isn’t an excuse. But I know you feel it, and what you’re feeling right now is only a fraction of what she felt that night.”

That burning sensation in the pit of your stomach was utterly unbearable. It hadn’t gone away since Kate had bitten you. Not when you shoved cold lasagna into your mouth or swallowed three glasses of water. Nothing dulled the pain except your proximity to Kate.

“You’re saying that we’re destined to be together?” You scoffed, breath forming in a cloud.

“That’s for the two of you to decide.”

Wanda stopped in the middle of the path. She grasped your other hand and her solemn energy crept through her touch almost as if she transferred it directly to you. That burning ache in your stomach threatened to calm.

“This is a lot to take in, leaving everything behind and being thrown into the deep end of a world you don’t understand. But I am here for you and Clint is here for you, and so is Bruce and Peter. All four of us… all four of us were ushered into this life instead of born into it. Some by choice and some by chance. And regardless of how we got here, we know the struggle that it carries. We’re here, y/n.”

The room that was given to you was set up in the same beige colors as the rest of the house. Wanda had the same kindness that she seemed to always exude as she explained that you could paint and decorate however you wanted. It was yours, and despite this being a fancy prison, you could always make it feel a little less like a prison.

It was when you were left with your thoughts, did you become wracked with discomfort. The house was mostly silent. Wanda had explained to you the purposeful thickness of the walls. They were meant to dull sounds and form privacy. That- you were thankful for.

There were minimal scents in here and if you tried hard enough, you knew that you could relax. As long as you didn’t think about the fact that you had given up your scholarship, and your life with your friends and your family and your heart was pounding unforgivably in your chest until you were forced to sit up on the wrinkled comforter.  

It took a few moments before you realized that someone was knocking on the door. You stood, opening it despite your better judgement. Maybe it would be Wanda with her soothing nature again, or even Natasha to slap some sense into you.

Instead, it was Kate Bishop. She looked like a kicked puppy, her stormy gray stare boring into yours with enough apologies to last a lifetime. But you didn’t want to hear it. Not at the moment and probably not for the foreseeable future.

Though, you had to admit, everything seemed to simmer down with her familiar clove scent. Her hands were in the pockets of her pajama pants, and she held up a brown bag filled with fast food. The grease had soaked through the paper in dark splotches.

You hadn’t eaten since yesterday and embarrassingly, your stomach growled in response. It gave you away. Whatever was in that bag smelled absolutely divine. Kate tried to stifle the smirk on her lips in a comical expression. She had won.

The door opened wider as you stepped aside. “I know we talked about Italian on the bus ride over here, but the only place within sixty miles is a burger joint and I’m helpless in the kitchen.”

“This is perfect. Thank you, Kate.”

The two of you sat on the floor close to the double windows that led to a small balcony. At first, you were tempted to pull the curtains in front of them. It was easier to ignore the eyes that stared back in the reflection. Your own eyes but something different and carnal about them that you weren’t ready to confront.

Kate had supplied you with one of the messiest cheeseburgers that you had ever eaten and a basket of equally as damp fries. It was the best thing you had ever tasted. You were admittedly starving and had been since the moment you woke up.

“God, this is,” you used your thumb to wipe a bit of ketchup “This is good. Not enough to forgive you yet good, but fucking delicious.”

She cleared her throat “I didn’t expect one burger to get me in your good graces. But I figured you were hungry. It’s been a big couple of days.”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘I’m sorry’, don’t you dare ruin the bliss this burger brings me.”

She laughed, a beautiful sound. Kate moved from her spot on the floor to one that was next to you. She still gave you distance, a good couple of inches. Her back was against the side of the bed and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

Your reflections were distorted. Between you rested the moon. The real moon that you had noticed outside with Wanda. It was brighter than it had been, or maybe you were just closer. It’s pale light vibrated against your skin and filled you with a tingling sensation.

It wasn’t fondness exactly. It was like pulling a cozy blanket around you and basking in it’s effects. Like the room around you is cold, frost creeping up the windows, and the only solace is that small piece of fabric. The moon warmed you. You wanted to swim in it.

“How long do I have?” You whispered; Kate scrunched up her face into a half-frown. She looked at you. “Wanda told me about the first time she saw Natasha change. She wouldn’t go into details, and I don’t blame her. But it sounded… painful.”

Kate crossed her legs and picked at the fuzz on her socks. She successfully plucked two balls of lint off the pattern before she spoke. “My family is rich. It’s uh, it’s generational. They’ve always had the best in everything. The biggest homes, the fanciest clothes, the best cars. The strongest cellars.”

You weren’t quite sure where she was going with this. Part of you stifled your anger. You had worked your ass off through high school to just get the vague chance of a college education. All of that was shattered because of the girl next to you. All of that was something that you were starting to understand. That dull ache was thrumming in the pit of your stomach, ever eased by Kate’s presence.

“I’m sticking my foot in my mouth. None of that matters. Growing up with generations of lycanthropy and having it treated like a prize. It’s disjointing. My father believed that that pain made you stronger, and that embracing that rage instead of commuting it was the way to go. And I thought the same until I met Clint.”

Kate let out a wavering breath. She played with the rings on her fingers, twirling them around until there was a little red mark on her skin. It seemed to dissipate just as soon as it had appeared.

“I was thirteen the first time that I turned. And I begged, pleaded with everyone around me to do something, anything, that would ease the agony of that first transformation. I was met with the silent treatment. And… I was a child. I was a scared child that wanted comfort.”

You reached forward and placed a hand on her knee. There was an electricity that flowed through the both of you, a specific energy that buzzed in the same way it had with Wanda, but different somehow. Stronger and all-consuming. She placed her hand on top of yours.

“The night of the full moon, my father locked me in one of those strong cellars. There was no light, no comfort. Nothing but a musty prison that had a small window out of reach. It was just big enough to let in the moonlight. The walls, they were torn up and bloody. It was all I could smell and think about.”

Kate paused to pull in another breath. “For years, I was convinced that was the only way to do things. Embrace the pain and let it harden you. But things are done differently here, y/n. It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not going to be alone. You won’t be locked in a cellar to feel that pain. And I have no quarrels if you don’t want me there-“

“Kate,” you interrupted her, “I want you there. Because despite everything, your presence is reassuring and I think that’s what I’m going to need.”

She gave you a sad smile, yet somehow it was still endearing. There was an exhaustion that settled over you in the same moment. Your stomach was full, and your eyes were feeling heavy. Tentatively, you rested your head against her shoulder, embracing her scent and her comfort.

For a half a second, she tensed but melted just as you had. The silence was far from uncomfortable and you drifted into her protection, dropping into sleep with the sound of her heartbeat in tandem with your own.

The living room, despite it’s size, was filled to the brink with people that all turned their eyes to you upon arrival. You knew that this was coming, the introduction phase. It reminded you of college orientation without the stifling June heat that made it impossible to pull in a proper breath.

You still couldn’t draw in one correctly, not with this many eyes and this many smells. It was like ripping a band aid off and you were incredibly thankful that they had let you get a full nights sleep before springing this on you.

At some point, you had crashed on Kate’s shoulder on the plush carpet of your room. She’d moved you to the bed and you woke up there alone but well rested. It took you a few moments to gather yourself and shove the sadness of leaving your life to the back of your mind. There were things to do, people to meet.

Kate was next to you. She leaned on the edge of the closest sofa and let you take in everything- everyone- that lingered. One man stood at the forefront of it all. He was massive, well built in a way that his strength commanded the attention of the room. There was a kindness in his stare too, one that you admittedly admired right off the bat.

“Hello,” he said it so simply, reaching his massive hand out “I’m Steve.”

“Y/n” You took his hand and shook it timidly.

Steve glanced at the waiting faces around the room. Each one watched with bated breath for him to speak. You even found yourself entrapped by his mere stance. “Everyone, y/n is going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future. This is a situation that we have yet to encounter, and I expect each and every one of you to treat it with the respect and care it deserves.”

There were a few faces that you didn’t recognize, but they seemed to accept the decree. Kate’s hand found its way to the small of your back out of view of the others. It steadied you, though you didn’t know you were unsteady in the first place.

It was explained to you that you were quite the exception to the house. Wanda was clear about how this group had formed and nowhere was it stated that someone who had never turned before was here. Each and every person had a solid grip on who they were- what they were.

“Should we play an ice breaker?” A man that was spread across most of the middle seat on the section asked. He had darkened eyes, black hair that was spiked with an obscene amount of gel. “Two truths and a lie?”

Natasha smirked wolfishly “I like this game; Tony Stark is a humungous ass, Tony Stark is so full of himself he has six mirrors in his room, and Tony Stark wears sunglasses inside like a douche.”

“Second one is the lie; I have eight mirrors in my room and each and every one of them is necessary.”

You pursed your lips to stop the smile from spreading across your face. Natasha tossed a throw pillow and nailed him in the face. He shifted it into his lap, settling there with an eyeroll. Your view was blocked by a man that towered over you.

Steve was big. Tony was big. Clint was big. But this man was an absolute giant. He radiated a warmth that was unmatched and crunched you into a hug. Your cheek was pressed against his chest, and you gave it a pat.

“Don’t suffocate her,” Kate urged gently.

“My apologies Katie” He pulled back, keeping his massive hands on both of your shoulders “I’m Thor, you know, like the God of Thunder.”

“It fits,” You said with a smile.

There was a level of trust about him. Maybe it was his sheer size, or maybe it was his beaming smile that was nothing but genuine. He eased you more than most in the room. When he stepped aside, you were met with the last stranger in the room.

A man that seemed to draw within himself but still shook your hand with a practiced confidence. His button-down was wrinkled, his hair messy. He wore these thick rimmed glasses that enhanced his stare. There was a gentleness about him, a timidness.

“Bruce Banner, it’s great to meet you, y/n.”

They fit together like a family. All of these strangers that each had their individual quirks but were more than comfortable longing around, just existing in the same area. They’d all come from different backgrounds and chose to linger in this large house. They chose to be a group. A unit. A pack.

For a long time, America was the only one that was in your life, the only constant. Your parents were in the background; one worked too much and the other drank too much and neither cared all that much. Watching the way these strangers interacted, the community they created for themselves, made you feel like maybe it would be okay. Maybe all of this would be okay.

Steve cleared his throat and the room stilled, all eyes leading back to him. He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the attention for only a millisecond before he smoothed back into himself. “The full moon is in two weeks’ time. We know the drill, but y/n doesn’t. It’s going to be difficult and different, and we’re going to have to prepare.”

“I have drugs,” Yelena said. There was a silence that shrouded the room as everyone blinked dumbly at the woman. “What? Not anything heavy. But enough to sedate her!”

“We are not sedating her, we’ve been through this” Clint responded.

They’d spoken about this? Truthfully, from the accounts you had gotten from Kate and Wanda, you would be more than happy to take something to knock you out. Though it seemed important to feel the pain too. Almost like a right of passage.

“That is y/n’s decision to make.” Bruce said. He addressed you, making you feel less like an observer to your own fate. “One that you don’t have to make right now, might I add.”

Steve held his hand up, quieting everyone once more. “There are natural ways of doing things too. And trust us, y/n, we will break down every single option you have until you find a comfortable solution to the predicament. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.”

Your tongue was tied at the prospect, and soon the meeting was dismissed. They were weekly, you learned, and part of you didn’t mind. A house this size with that many people could get messy quickly without some sort of pecking order.

The library on the second floor was home to bound leather books that recounted the history of lycanthropy. It was warm up there, large windows letting in enough sunlight to show the particles of dust as they float in the air.

Not many people use this place. It was kept tidy but the scent that hung in the air was mainly aged paper and wood polish. You’d pulled one of the leather books from the shelf and curled up in the window seat. The pages were yellowed and brittle but filled with invaluable information.

This was the first moment in the last few days where your mind felt quiet. Your world was quiet.

Hours passed as you worked your way through literature, through Norse mythology of a curse, and pelts that would let men roam the countryside as wolves until they gained their lucidity again. There were diary entries from families that were descended from lunacy; the Bishops and Rodgers and Odinson’s and many more that you could not recognize.

You’d made it through two and half books before the light bouncing off the pages shifted to a vibrant orange of the sunset. You’d been left to your own devices for the day, and you rubbed your eyes, tired from the constant strain.

There was a quiet knock at the door and the scent of turkey filled your lungs. You blinked a few times. Steve leaned against the doorframe, holding a plate filled with a pile of potato chips and a sandwich. You’d again, forgotten to eat.

“I come in peace,” He said, entering the room and setting the plate of food on the table in the center of the room. He gestured to the other end of the window seat. “May I?”

You nodded, pulling your feet back and tucking them under yourself. “This is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that I’ve been bribed with food.”

 “It’s a love language around here. Learn anything interesting?”

“That a lot of werewolves are French and it’s much easier to be a one in the twenty first century.”

He chuckled and the sound was nice. It made sense that he was in charge. Being around him made things feel like they were solvable. The many answers floating around in your mind, the fears, could center into one concrete thing.

“The French gave us a bad name, I’m afraid. But you’re right about the second part. I wasn’t lying when I said that there are multiple ways to go about this.”

“Like drugs?”

“That’s one option, yes. Clint told me that one of the first things you were concerned about was keeping everyone around you safe.”

You nodded, pulling your legs up to your chest and resting your chin against them. The only reason you had gone along with all of this was to keep the people you love safe. That combined with the deep seeded feeling that all of this was real had lured you here, had kept you here.

“I’m trying not to be angry.” You admitted in a small, weak voice. “There is this deep rage that I could blame on whatever emotional distress these books outline. But nothing will change the fact that one minute I had a chemistry quiz due at midnight and the next I was waking up in a filth of rotted leaves and my own blood. And the only thing I can think about is that I have every right to hate her but I… I can’t.”

Steve was patient, silent in his ministrations. He turned a gold band on his ring finger around and around, much like Kate had. It was a nervous habit, something that soothed him, you supposed.

“I have always been able to handle anything that’s thrown at me. Always. Life has a mass of problems and those problems can be solved but this doesn’t feel real. It won’t feel real until I’m there but I’m- I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

You tried to smother the bloom of emotions in your chest, but it wasn’t working. There was an immense shame in cracking in front of Steve that you couldn’t quite explain but he seemed to have no quarrels about your tears or wiping them away with a calloused hand.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” He said with a shaky breath “And you have every right to be angry. I would be angry. No one expects you to forgive and we certainly don’t expect you to forget. What’s happened is unfair. But we can ease that fear.”

You swallowed hard, throat dry “how?”

“Well, drugs” He gave you a weak smile, and you snorted out a laugh. “But if we want to do things old school, that’s possible. It’s recommended, really. This place is built for people like us, and even though right now it feels like a curse, like a burden, maybe fate intervened.”

Your head thud softly against the bookcase behind you, “Fate carries the last name Bishop.”

[shreddeddescent]

hhhhh yeah ok just for funsies.....

here's a snippet (its way longer than a snippet its 4000 words) of the worst case scenario story i wrote.

idk how much of the specifics will be canon. but i do think this is such a good blow up that it would be mean to keep it to myself.

maybe im posting it just to be like YEAH OK HERES THE TONE. IF YOURE NOT COMFORTABLE THEN YOU CANT BE HERE...

Warnings for mentions of: CSA rape forced incest uhhhh more probably. nothing shown but much mentioned. possibly warnings for more im not even thinking of. Im sorry just be careful.

Don’t be fucking weird about it to me ok we are in the raw place

so context. shredder kidnapped the boys for days to get what he wanted out of them. implications are clear enough through context i think. lot of drugging. they escaped and killed him (like for real this time) shit is weird and they're handling it as best they can. everyone is aware of this. they've had one therapy session w a weirdly inhuman therapist april found (from her connections in cryptid world) and nobody wants to look their mom in the eye. least of all raph. cuz god does it ever feel bad to know she knows.

the boys seem ok to the naked eye though. hence. this.

--

When they woke up the next morning Mikey had decided to make everyone pancakes. A true feast of flavours after their days of slop.

Donnie and Leo had set the table and let Raph rest at the head of it, he was still wearing Donnie’s old ratty black hoodie, it fit him perfectly. He’d also found some sweatpants, but those only rode up to his mid thigh. It still helped though.

Mikey was making two batches of pancakes, half with chocolate chips and half without, the pickier eaters with the cool mask colours refusing to try something sweet.

The air smelled strongly of bacon, and it was making Raph’s tummy growl loudly.

“Mikey you better hurry up, Raph’s gonna eat his plate!” Leo joked as he pat Raph on the back.

“You can’t hurry perfection!” Mikey whined as he plated some bacon.

“Uuuughhhh Mikey…! I can see the light!” Raph gasped out and reached his arm out above his head, miming his own death.

Mikey huffed and chucked a piece of bacon on his plate.

“To tide you over you big baby.”

Raph gasped and picked it up between his fingers gobbling it down with a loud moan.

“So fucking good Mikey…”

“Oh you’re all up!”

Raph froze, swallowing hard.

His mom was behind him and he was wearing Donnie’s hoodie. He had just moaned Mikey’s name. And his mom was behind him.

He felt Leo hovering over him but he didn’t move.

“Hi mom.” Leo said gently.

“Decided to make a big breakfast?” She wandered over to look at what Mikey was doing at the stove.

Leo put a hand on Raph’s shoulder when she turned and leaned down to enter his eyeline.

Raph stared at him with a panicked expression. Leo looked sympathetic.

“Yeah, we’re all pretty hungry.” Mikey responded.

“You want some help?”

“I got it, it’s almost done anyway.”

Raph was trying like hell not to have a panic attack. Leo put both arms around his shoulders in a loose hug, leaning down to speak in his ear.

“Deep breaths, Raph, it’s just mom. You’re okay.”

He tried to breathe, placing a hand on Leo’s arm. He saw his mom turn and quickly threw Leo’s arms off him.

She stared at him sadly, but tried to smile anyway.

“How are you feeling today Raphael?”

“Hungry.” He answered quickly. “Just really hungry.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she tried to keep it up anyway.

“Well, good thing your brother is such a good cook.” She turned to the fridge to grab some juice.

Raph clasped his chest, he didn’t know why it hurt.

Donnie was staring at him with some concern, he looked like he was about to ask him something so Raph just glared at him and held his finger to his lips.

Donnie rolled his eyes and rest his folded arms on the table.

Raph just stared at his empty plate, trying to calm his nerves.

Leo pat him on the back and shook him gently.

“Raphael do you want me to put on some coffee? Or would you like to take a nap later?”

He stared at his empty plate. Caffeine would make his chest worse than it already was.

“No, I'm very awake right now, super okay.” He super fucking wasn’t okay and he didn’t know why.

She turned around to pour a glass of orange juice for herself.

“Enough food for me to join you boys?”

Mikey turned his head to look back at Raph in question.

Raph stared back at him with an anxious look in his eye. He then looked back at his mom.

“Of course you can eat breakfast with us we’re not avoiding you or anything that would be mean!” He tried to make his words sound as playful as he could but he was pretty sure he sounded crazy.

She gave him a puzzled look but smiled anyway, and sat at the other end of the table.

Donnie gave him the most dumbfounded look, shaking his head slightly.

Leo nonchalantly scooted his chair closer to Raph and leaned over the counter.

“So. What did our doctor tell you?”

Raph kicked him under the table but he didn’t react.

She frowned and clasped her hands around her cup, looking down at it.

“She… said a few things. She told me to give you space, but not be too far in case you needed to talk. I’m trying not to worry, but I’m a little surprised that none of you have seeked me out for anything.”

Raph frowned and rubbed his arm, looking away.

“I.. I’m sorry, feels too raw right now..”

“I think anything we need to talk about can be said to the therapist.” Donnie said.

Raph looked up to glare at Donnie for his rudeness, but he’d stood up to help Mikey bring plates of food to the table.

“Which I understand, but I feel out of the loop. You’ve spoken to April. And this doctor. But no one even looked to me for a hug…”

Raph chewed his lip and closed his eyes. He felt horrible.

“Mom, I’m so sorry I just—“

“Because trying to be physically close with anyone right now is hard, mom.” Leo interrupted. Raph thought his tone was too harsh. “We’ve been through hell and we’re just trying to be normal. It’s awkward and it sucks. But it’s hard to add other people to it.”

Raph groaned and shoved him lightly with his shoulder.

“We’re fine, mom. We’re coping.”

She eyed the two of them carefully with her hands clasped in front of her face as Donnie and Mikey placed the plates of pancakes and meats in front of everyone.

She was looking at Raph’s hoodie, she was looking at how close Leo was to him.

He looked away from her so he could pile as many chocolate chip pancakes onto his plate as he could. Leo leaned over him to add some bacon and hash browns to it, knowing he would forget to diversify his plate.

It was not helping.

Raph grumbled and took a big bite of pancakes. He couldn’t help but moan again. “These are so fucking good, Mikey…”

Mikey grinned from his seat near splinter at the corner. He and Donnie had very different plates, his full of all the variety, Donnie sticking to his plain pancakes with nothing on them.

“Thank you! Worth the wait right?” He asked with his mouth full.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Raph whined dramatically and stuffed his face more. Eating real delicious food after all that gross paste felt so good. He’d never felt so hungry, he was going to overindulge.

“How are you coping?” Splinter asked suddenly between her bites of food.

Raph tensed and looked up at her, gulping back hard.

“Sorry?”

“You said you were fine and coping. So how are you coping?” She looked up at him with a weird look and he needed to look back down. It was making him queasy.

“I.. I don’t know, we’re just hanging out I guess.” He mumbled and picked at his food.

“Is that a new hoodie?”

He tensed and tried to make himself small.

“No, it’s Donnie’s…”

“Hm.” She washed back her food with a chug of juice.

His brothers weren’t as tense as he was, but they did look uneasy by her presence. It wasn’t unusual, he was usually the only one trying to hold conversation, and he had been the one to inadvertently invite her to join them. They all kind of wanted to be alone.

“Mikey? You should have let me help, you seemed to have forgotten the eggs.”

‘She knows she knows she knows she knows!’

Raph slammed his head down on the counter to shut the voice in his head up.

There was a pause. Leo pressed a hand to his back.

“You good..?”

He picked his head up sharply and grunted.

“Never better.” He started scarfing down the pancakes in as big of bites as he could. Maybe he could finish fast and get out of here.

“I… didn’t make eggs cuz our stomachs are a little too empty for eggs…” Mikey mumbled between bites.

‘She knows he’s lying she knows he’s trying to protect you she knows!’

He clenched his fist around his fork and swallowed hard, staring intensely at his plate. He put his free hand under the table to dig his nails into his thigh instead of hurting his head where she could see it.

Unfortunately Leo noticed and grabbed his hand under the counter to stop him. Which she also noticed.

He slapped his hand away and glared at him.

“Leo what are you doing to your brother?!”

Leo snapped his head up to look at her and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing!”

Raph wished he had hair so he could pull it all out.

“Oh for fucks sake, SPLINTER, we are NOT. FUCKING each other!” Donnie shouted as he suddenly stood up and leaned over the counter.

Raph looked at him in absolute horror.

Splinters eyes went wide and she looked at him angrily.

“What?!”

Donnie growled.

“I can see what you’re doing! You keep eyeing Raph up for being too close to us! You’re assuming the worst!” Donnie gestures to him with one hand without turning his gaze away from splinter. “You’re going to give him ANOTHER panic attack!”

Raph clutched his head in his hands, staring wildly at nothing as he curled his upper body over the counter, facing down at the table.

“Donnie!” He heard Mikey yell as another stool scooted back.

“I-I am not assuming anything!” His mother sounded offended and angry.

“Guys.” Leo said sternly.

“You literally asked him about my hoodie! As if it was the weirdest thing in the world for my traumatized rape victim of a brother to request items of clothing!”

“He’s just never worn anything like that before!”

“Gee Splinter I wonder why!”

“Donnie this isn’t your fight!” Mikey yelled and Raph heard a small smack.

“Someone has to fucking fight for that idiot! Everyone’s fucking dancing around it as if we don’t all know what’s wrong!”

Raph was staring at his plate so hard the colours were burning into his brain.

“No one wants to tell me what’s wrong! Everyone comes home from hell and avoids their mother like the plague! And I am just supposed to not fear the worst?! You have no idea all the things I can smell on you boys!”

“Where was that nose THE FIRST TIME?!” Donnie shouted as it sounded like he slammed both fists on the counter.

“What?!”

He was growling.

“You didn’t smell DAD all over Raph?!”

Raph stood suddenly, hands still clasped over his ears and he didn’t look at anyone, just kept his head facing the ground as he ran out of the room.

He bolted into the bathroom and proceeded to throw up all of the delicious pancakes he’d enjoyed so much. He couldn’t even have one nice thing.

He heard a gentle knock at the open door and didn’t turn away from the bowl.

“I have some water…” Leo said quietly. He made no effort to step inside.

Raph reached his arm back to take the cup without looking.

Leo passed it to him and stayed in the doorway.

Raph kept staring at the bowl, waiting to see if he has anything left before he chugged water and rinsed his mouth out a few times.

“Thanks…” he mumbled as he grabbed toilet paper to wipe his face with.

“Do you want me to sit with you..?”

Raph kept staring at the bowl.

“Yeah…”

Leo walked inside and sat beside him propping up an elbow on his knee.

“Can I rub your back?”

“Why are you asking permission?” Raph looked up at him frustratedly. He was just giving him a sympathetic frown.

“Cuz I think no one is asking how you feel before they decide they know what’s best for you.”

Raph turned back to the bowl, taking in what he meant.

“I… thank you…” he sighed, straightening his back out to look at the back of the toilet. He was pretty sure there was nothing left in him, but he just kind of wanted to sit in this quiet moment away from everyone else. Puke or not.

Leo took it upon himself to flush the toilet for him.

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure Mikey’s gonna chew Donnie’s ear off for that.”

“What does it matter, he’s not wrong.” Raph sighed.

“It was not his place to shout your bullshit at mom.”

Raph turned to look up at him frustrated.

“He’s right though. That’s what hurts.”

Leo frowned and nodded.

“He is, but it’s still not his place to talk over you about you. It’s not moms place to make you feel like shit about yourself when you’re barely holding on. And it’s not Donnie’s place to decide how you tell mom about your own shit.”

Raph looked away, feeling tears coming.

“I was never gonna tell mom. I was… I was literally never ever gonna tell her that…”

Leo scooted closer and leaned his head down to be at eye level with him.

“I get that. We all kinda knew that. I’m sorry Donnie did that to you.”

Raph closed his eyes.

“You can hug me if you want to…”

He felt Leo pull him in to a loose hug from his side, letting him lean his body against his.

“I… I know what Donnie did is fucked but… but I also mean that I was never going to be ABLE to tell mom that…”

Leo hummed and rubbed his shoulder.

“You’re half grateful. Half angry.”

He laughed a little. “Yeah… I know it’s.. it’s my fault for saying it was ok for her to join us but… but god Leo I feel so bad all the time, she seems lonely and sad and I just.. I can’t look at her and think about what she thinks of me…”

“I mean—“

“And don’t just tell me not to worry about what she thinks.”

There was a pause.

“That’s all you were gonna say.” Raph grumbled and pat Leo’s arm. “I hate that nobody ever gets along, and I hate that I’m stuck in the middle of it…”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is! I’m tired and I just want people to fucking… I don’t know.. I’m trying to be okay…”

Leo tugged him closer. “You don’t have to be okay, no one expects you to be okay.”

He sighed and pat Leo’s arm. “I wanna go back in there…”

Leo gently let go of him and stood up, holding his hand out to help him up. He then pointed at the sink.

“Maybe one last rinse and spit.”

Raph sighed and leaned over to gargle tap water for a moment before turning and staring up at Leo who gave him a thumbs up.

Leo let him lead the way out of the room.

He was still hearing arguing as he walked towards the kitchen.

“—have any idea how hard this was?!”

“Yes! Because you never shut up about it!”

“Oh that’s kind of you to say!”

“Does it EVER cross your mind how hard WE had it as BABIES?!”

He hovered in the doorway for a moment.

He saw his mother standing on a stool to shout at eye level, Donnie just glaring daggers still in the same spot.

Mikey had his arms folded, the expression on his face looked far older and exhausted than it should have on his sweet face.

“Of course I do! That’s why I needed to get you out of there!”

Raph walked in the kitchen and they all stared at him.

Mikey’s expression softened instantly, he looked worried.

Raph parsed the last thing his mother had said and he turned to look at her, feeling angry for some reason.

“But… you didn’t get us out… I got us out.” He said quietly.

He sensed Leo standing behind him leaning against the door frame.

His mother made a face.

“That’s not fair.” She said as she climbed down of the stool to sit normally. “I found us all a way out, I got us a home.”

“Six years later.” He almost whispered. He wasn’t sure where this was coming from.

Mikey and Donnie were staring at him in awe. Splinter looked offended.

“You know where I—“

“I know where you were. I know why you were gone.” He clenched his fists and took a breath, standing up straight. “I don’t blame you for leaving. Or being gone. I’m sorry. But…” he looked at Mikey, his sweet eyes growing larger. He eyed Donnie, whose guilty look was turning warmer. He looked back at his mother. “But when you were gone bad things happened to us, and no one came to save us.”

Her eyes were watering. It made his water too, so he turned his head to look away.

He sensed Leo step in beside him and felt him grab his hand gently.

Raph looked up at him, he was giving him a gentle smile and nodded at him to continue.

Leo had him.

He looked back at his mom’s tearful eyes.

“I-I know that! And I feel terrible about it every day!”

He gave her a dark glare.

“Did you know dad raped me?”

Her eyes went wide and she didn’t say anything.

He frowned.

“You either didn’t think about how bad we had it, or you knew and didn’t do anything about it. I don’t know which makes me more miserable to think about.”

“Raphael—“

“Stop!” He shouted. She tensed up and he felt guilty instantly, none of them liked a booming voice.

He rubbed his temple with his free hand.

“Stop. We know the therapist was April’s idea. And we know you didn’t let her get one for us before. I understand….” He sighed, “I understand that we were in hiding. That you were scared for us, scared we’d get caught, shipped back there and have the worst thing happen, but… but we could have gotten help years ago! I could have gotten help! I-I shut down mom! I forgot all about it! And you might think that’s good! That makes it all okay cuz I shut it all out but it came back to haunt me!

Tears were falling down his cheeks, he felt so angry and so miserable and so so justified.

“You said… you told me. When you found me you told me you had been watching us! Trying to watch over us right? What… what did you see dad do that finally pushed you over the edge and made you admit you were there?”

She looked so pained, so guilty. He didn’t want to break his stare no matter how much it hurt. He didn’t want to give her a way out.

“Your… the things he wanted to do to you… to your brothers because of you…”

“BECAUSE of me?!” He snatched his hand away from Leo’s to clench both of his fists.

Her tears were free roaming, she balled her fists on the counter.

“Because of how you were born! H-he got opportunity as soon as he found that out! He was going to use them on you! Because of how you were born!”

Raph shook his head dumbfounded, staring at the ground.

“Because of how I was born…” he repeated. “So it’s.. so it’s my fault guys! Because I was born like this!”

“Raphael that’s not what I meant!”

He snapped his head up to glare at her. “Isn’t it?! You just said what caused you to finally warn me was learning about that! How did you even learn that!”

She stared at him for a long while. Crying silently as she tried to find her words.

His muscles were trembling from how tightly wound he felt.

“I… saw you get examined in the lab… I was in the vent, y-you were on the table with your little legs…” she sobbed. “I-I saw what he did… i s-saw you lie there l-like you were asleep…”

Raph felt an icy chill run through his body.

He stood back, staring at her in shock and shaking his head a little.

“You… you saw him do it…”

It wasn’t a question.

Her face answered it anyway. Anguished, guilty, miserable. Sobbing away at the table.

He couldn’t move and she didn’t say anything.

“Mom…” Leo softly whispered beside him.

Donnie kicked his stool over with violent force and marched out of the room.

Mikey was staring at Raph with big wet eyes.

Raph was frozen.

“How… how could you..?” Leo asked her.

She hid her face in her hands, sobbing loudly.

“Y-you couldn’t go back! H-help would have brought attention! You couldn’t go back!” She wailed. “A-and you blocked it all out! What was I supposed to do!!!”

“SOMETHING!!!” Mikey screamed suddenly.

They all turned to look at him. He looked more furious than anyone had ever seen him, pure rage in his eyes, sitting up on the counter with his body hunched over.

He shook his head in utter disbelief and got down off the stool, marching over to Raph and taking his hand.

“We should leave.” He said seriously and tugged on it.

Raph didn’t want to move.

“H-he tried to do the deed himself Raphael! H-he tried to use himself as the donor first! H-how could I tell you that!” She slammed her fists down.

Leo’s hands were on Raph’s shoulders now.

“You… saw dad rape me…”

She kept sobbing.

“I-I couldn’t d-do anything to s-stop him!!”

He shook his head slowly and turned his body to face Leo behind him.

“I… I don’t want to talk to you…” he said softly.

Leo stepped around him to hold him from behind and Mikey tugged him once more.

This time he followed.

And just left her crying alone.

They both walked him into the bedroom and sat him down on their pile of beds, Donnie was already here curled up in the corner crying by himself.

Raph just sat very still, his feet still on the ground. He stared into space as someone put a blanket over him, someone else shut the door.

He couldn’t even cry, he felt emotionally comatose and just stared blankly into the wall.

He felt his brothers grab his hands and squeeze them.

“Raph…?” He thinks it was Leo, he couldn’t see.

A soft chirp came from his other side.

He blinked but didn’t look over.

“I… Don’t wake me up…” he mumbled. “I don’t want to feel this…”

They both went quiet, he sensed movement behind him, and then felt all three brothers hugging him on all sides.

He just kept staring at the wall.

“She watched him rape me…” he said quietly again.

The grips got tighter. Someone was sobbing. It could have been all of them. They just held on to him, and it was the only thing he was going to let himself feel.

“If mom watched him rape me, then that means she let him rape me…”

He kept staring. The grooves between the bricks started to glow from how little he’d moved his eyes.

“And if she let him do that, and then… then all these years she should have known what was wrong with me, right..?”

“Raphie…”

He closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath.

And then he just screamed as loud and long as he could. Until his lungs were fully empty and then some.

Then he finally let himself break down.