#its impressive to me that he actually got to go to races and met so many f1 top people to make the movie that was impossible to make

[endofbeginings]

this is sooooooooo important to me

[simping-overload]

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴇᴇʀ - ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

a/n: showing my love for my favorite Greek God of all time, Hermes<3 this is a multichapter fanfic.

trigger warnings: animal hunting so animal death. Religious themes and practices

synopsis: You never thought helping out a lost hobo would end up with you in the loving embrace of a god.

『read on ao3』

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disclaimer: hermes is based on his BOZ, EPIC, and canon mythology. I don't really know how ancient greece actually was or how hunting works so take this with a grain of salt! It is just fanfiction :)

You come from a village that has been long-term worshippers of the goddess, Artemis. Each year, the village holds a festival, Laphria¹. With this festival, of course, comes activities, the most important being the hunt. Where 3 main selected participants, who were allowed to bring at the maximum two others along the hunt with them, they were to hunt down a large stag, whoever was to bring back the largest wins.

The reward would entail being given a large sum of money and being allowed to worship the goddess to the fullest extent, which means you'd get to say your prayers before everyone, including the high elders.

This year, you were finally chosen for the hunt, much to the joy of your family and friends. You were their best hunter and tracker, able to find an animal with ease regardless of how little the evidence that has been left behind.

After passing a familial trail—hunting a snow hare in the middle of snowstorm— you were gifted a beautiful pup who you named Winston². The two of you were jointed at the hip. There wasn't a place you'd go without him. This included the hunt.

You decided to bring two of your beloved friends along, Damian and Agnes. You set off at dawn, racing into the trees on the back of your horses, Winston running ahead as the scout.

Agnes and Damian were chattering away behind you as you looked over the map. You wanted to try and plan out all paths you could safely use.

"So...do you think if I win this, it would get Corinna at the very least interested in me?" Damian questions, fiddling with the horses' reins. He had a crush on Corinna ever since they were teens, spending most of his time trying to impress her— which failed considering he always made a fool of himself.

Agnes, bless her, rolling her eyes as she listens to Damian rant, just as the millions times before. She's been friends with him since they were babies. Both of their mothers were the best of friends, so it makes sense they were too.

You didn't come into the picture until you were about 7 or so, moving here to take care of your grandmother after she got sick.

You met Agnes when your mother invited hers over, and then her mother invited Damian's over. You all were just placed in front of each other and expected you all to click automatically. Thankfully, you did, and you've been friends ever since.

"Probably, but you need to remember Nikolaos is in this competition too, I know he's been desperate to get her hand as well." She pauses as her horse jumps over a fallen tree. She looks back at Damian with a blank stare and continues. "And also this could've been avoided if you just grew a pair of balls and confessed."

"I can't just do that— I need to get her attention first. Maybe we'll find that white stag the elders ramble about." Damian giggles as he pictures Corinna leaping into his arms and saying yes to his proposal. He was such a lovesick fool.

"Or maybe she's already interested and is waiting for you to confess. I've heard its custom in her family for the woman to wait for the man to ask, no matter how long it takes." You chime in, not looking up from your map.

"Wait wh—" Damian is cut off when a large gray wolf jumps from out of the trees, holding a white hare in its mouth.

Your horse, startled, bucks you off its back, sending you to the forest floor. You're now eye level with the wolf, noticing how its eyes are an unnatural golden color.

You and the wolf stared each other down for a moment before it huffed and leaps back into the trees. Agnes drops down from her horse and rushes to your side, while Damian goes off to fetch your horse.

You snapped out of your daze when you felt something wet touched your cheek. It was Winston, licking at you and whining in concern.

You pat his head to calm him, and you lean on Agnes for support as you stand. She brushes the dirt and leaves off your back.

"Hey, you okay?" She questions, her freckled face is laced with concern.

You feel fine, a little sore, but nothing you hadn't been through before. There was something about that wolf that just stuck with you, "Yeah, I'm fine. That wolf, though... its eyes were like pure gold."

"Maybe it's one of Lady Artemis' wolves? It wouldn't be the first time she's watched over the hunts." She suggests, steppingaway from you once you've steady yourself. Damian comes back with your now calm horse, handing you the reins.

"I suppose? Though I never heard of a wolf having pure gold eyes before... Anyway, Winston, did you see anything?

Winston barks in reply, his tail wagging before he runs off. You mount your horse and begin to follow him. You motion the other two to do the same.

Winston leads you to what looks to be a temple, one that seems to have been neglected for years. Nature has taken over, vines have trickled up and wrapped themselves around the columns, and grass and flowers grow from the cracks of the floor. The usual pure white of the marble has faded into a off white tan color with a thin layer of moss across the surface.

"Let's make sure the area is safe for us to set up camp here. Agnes, check out the back of the temple, and Damian, you'll start with the outer perimeter. I'll start with the inside. Regroup to the front once you're sure no one else has been here."

Agnes nods, and Damian gives an alright in response before going back into the forest. You dismount your horse, tying it to a loose fence post. You make your way up the cracked stone steps and into the temple.

The rays of sun lit the inside of the temple, illuminating the illustrations that line the walls and ceilings. Going off of the winged shoes on the god that was illustrated, this was a temple of Hermes. You wonder if there was ever a village that was here before yours that were worshippers of him.

Your search around the temple came up empty, with no human activity. Only animals and plants seemed to have been inside. You leave the temple in time to see with Damian and Anges coming back.

"There doesn't look like there's anyone for miles, only animals. I saw the cutest fox kits." Anges says.

"Same here, though I wasn't blessed with seeing any cute aniamls today." Damian pouts, dismounting his horse, kneeling down next to Winston to ruffle his fur, "Expect for this bugger." Winston barks and licks the man's hand.

You chuckle, "Looks like it's safe to set up camp here, we'll need to find something to eat, so I'll try and find something for us. You two just set up camp and remember to use the horn if anything happens."

They give you mock salutes in response before they begin to take the supplies off the horses and into the temple. You mount yours and whistle for Winston to follow as you trot off into the woods.

It doesn't take you long to hunt something down. After finding some boar tracks, Winston leads the rest of the way to the creature. Upon finding it, you ready your bow, steadying yourself on the moving horse as you focus your aim on the boar.

You suck in a breath, drawing back your arrow and whispering a short prayer to Artemis as you relase. The arrow pierces through the side of the boar, straight to the heart, quick and painless.

Suddenly, you hear a loud scream, and off in the distance, you can see someone running towards you with what looks like a... deer? Chasing after them. Winston stands alert, ears perked, and focused on the person getting closer to you. You hold your reins tight while Winston moves in front of the horse.

The person turned out to be Nikolaos. You spot his signature ginger hair showing from under his hood before he trips over a log and face plants in front of you. He doesn't try to exchange pleasantries as he scrambles up to keep running.

The deer came soon after, gracefully hopping over the log. It glanced at you for a meer moment, giving you enough time to see its golden eyes. The same color from the wolf.

You hop down off your horse, making your way to the boar.

You are for sure this time that it wasn't Artemis. Maybe some other god?

You wrap the boars legs tight with string as you bring it back to your horse, settling it on the rear. Positioned so it won't slip off, you mount your horse once more before going back the direction you came.

As you make your way back. Your mind wanders back to Hermes. It could be him. After all, he's one of the more playful gods known for his pranks and tricks. You'll have to make an offering to him for letting you sleep in the temple, regardless if it's abandoned or not, and so he doesn't prey on your friends like he did Nikolaos.

By the time you made it to camp, it was dusk. Agnes greets you outside, taking the horse reins from you. You take the boar off of the horse, taking off to the side as you make quick work of the animal, cutting off the hide and chopping the pieces of meat you need. You leave whatever is left for Winston and the other forest creatures to feast.

Damian is quick to start cooking. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to pack spices so your group wouldn't have to suffer tasteless food.

Until the sky went dark, you spent the rest of your time eating and talking. Damian nearly choked on his food when he heard you recant the experience in the woods earlier. He says he wishes he could've seen the look on that bastards face when he was running away. Agnes jokes that Nikolaos probably looked like a scared chicken. Which admittedly, he did, come to think of it, his screams sounded like the human equivalent of one.

As the night went on, it got quiet, Damian was the first to sleep, and Agnes was next. Winston is sprawled out in between them, snoring away. Before you rest, you bring a plate of food and burning incense to the altar.

You whisper, "Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises. Take this food as a thank you for allowing us to sleep here for the night." You pause. "Also... please refrain from chasing us as a deer or anything else for that matter. While it was funny what you did to Nikolaos, I would rather not soil my pants." You chuckle, placing the food onto the alter and the incense in a dusty holder.

You go back to your original resting place, leaning against the pillar. You feel a soft and comfortable breeze flow through the temple. The sounds of the trees rustling soothe you into a nice slumber.

Still in deer form, Hermes walks through the woods, no set destination just allowing the fates to choose where he will end up. Faintly, he can hear someone whisper a prayer.

"Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises..."

It was not often that he received prayers, especially not in his sisters park of Greece. He lets the prayer pull him towards the location.

Switching to his human form, he approaches the temple. It was one of his firsts. A gift to him by his father. While unkept, it still stood strong.

He sniffs the air, a familiar smell, boar. Not only did he get a prayer, but he got an offering, too? Just what he needed after chasing the mortals.

He giggles as he makes his way inside, involuntary waking up Winston, who was silenced a quick shush and a pat to the head.

Hermes looks around at the mortals who sleep before him. Wondering who said the prayer, his eyes land on you. Still leaned against the pillar, head thrown back against it. Your hand is tightly wrapped around a dagger. Ready to strike if need be.

He studied your face for a moment, his hand twitched with the desire to trace over your features. You were very attractive for a mortal, and judging from the faint golden aura he could see emitting from you, you're the one who prayed.

He steps away with a grin, making his way to the alter. He picks the plate up, nearly drooling on the food. As much as he'd love to take his time eating, he's a glutton. In seconds, the plate is empty. He holds back a burp as he makes his way back out of the temple, glancing at you as he makes his way out.

Well, he's going to have some fun on this vacation.

[writingshushf1]

Does your mother know?

Summary: "Now you're so cute, I like your style And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile"

When a new Ferrari driver crosses paths with the one and only Sebastian Vettel.

Rating: +18

Warnings: shameless smut, age gap, grief/mourning, slight mdom vibes, y/n being a brat, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Word count: 4.8k

Note: more filthy fiction w/ seb! they have a 8/10 year age gap, if that bothers you- don’t read! 

masterlist

There's that look in your eyes I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild Ah, but girl, you're only a child

You were the new Ferrari driver. That was amazing, you weren't the first AFAB racing, yet the only one to get in a position as high as that, in a top team. Charles Leclerc was your teammate and you knew him before, you were good friends, you often went out with him and his younger brother, who was closer to your age. The pre-season tests in Bahrain happened, but you didn't talk to the other drivers, more out of insecurity and fear of someone judging you, you preferred to stay in your corner, studying about the car and its possibilities.

Thursday and the day went very well, just press conference day. You saw some drivers, said hello and introduced yourself, but nothing too big, because the focus was different.

Friday was the day. Free practice to test how ready the car was for your style of racing. You arrived early and had lunch alone at the Ferrari hospitality, waiting for the weather to get milder so you could do the paddock walk. When you decided to go, you found Sebastian Vettel doing the same, alone; as soon as he saw you, he started to slow down to keep the same pace. Initially, you preferred to stay silent, you didn't want to bother him anyway - and as you consider yourself an annoying person in general, it would be better to keep your mouth shut anyway. He probably noticed your insecurity-and in a way, fear-of starting a conversation, so he decided to start it.

"Welcome to Formula 1." He smiled and you couldn't deny it, he had his charm. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I hope it was only the good stuff."

"Of course, the newest Scuderia Ferrari driver, who has had an impressive year in Formula 2 and clearly a great contender to take the lead away from the Red Bulls. As well as being the youngest female driver to win that position."

"I'm not that young."

"But you're younger than me, that's for sure." He chuckled low, patting her on the shoulder twice.

"Like you're that old."

"Death is already knocking on my door." You couldn't hold back your laugh and he discreetly paid attention to your reaction, smiling. "Anyway, how are your expectations for the weekend?"

"Great. I hope... Actually, I will get on the podium on Sunday."

"Ambitious, that's what I find amazing about you younger drivers."

"Like you were not the same in your Red Bull days."

"So I've got a fan?" The suggestive tone in Sebastian's voice at that moment didn't arouse anything in you, in your opinion, he was just joining in the fun.

"How could I not? I always saw you as a role model. Especially with your more recent community work.... In fact, if you need someone one day, I'm a person who has a pretty free schedule."

"I'd love to. Mick usually joins me too. Have you met him? You two would become good friends."

"He was from the Ferrari academy, obviously! It's years since I've seen him properly."

You may have understood a pretext that he wanted to set you up with the younger Schumacher, but preferred to ignore - well, that wasn’t actually the case for the moment, he just treated the younger boy as one of his kids. You said your goodbyes, as soon began what you had been waiting for all day.

Practice had been great, the car was living up to your expectations, so the podium you were counting on would come out on Sunday and you could prove to everyone who doubted your ability that yes, you deserved to be among the best. You were radiant, the team director even asked if there was something wrong, since most of the time you remained serious, without smiles and ready to kill someone if necessary; it was as if you could be who you always wanted to be, it was a hard way and the criticism would never stop, but nothing could take away what you were feeling. Going back to your motorhome - since you preferred to spend the weekend there and not in a decent hotel - you saw Vettel walking with his head down, taking his bike and leaving; you thought about saying hello, but he didn't seem to be in a good mood and maybe he wanted to be without anyone in his ears babbling about random things

Meanwhile, on the way back to the hotel, the German's mind could only think of one thing: Ferrari's new driver. Sebastian was conflicted by the conversation with you during the walk, it was strange for him, seeing such a beautiful person and feeling that buzz in his stomach, something he hadn't felt for months. Since Hanna died , he had completely shut down; just thinking about her brought tears to his eyes, because it was hard to live alone after spending since your teenage years by the side of someone you loved, a person who built a family - that now, he juggled between leaving the kids with her family and yours, trying to see them whenever you had a break from racing and that action made you feel guilty, of them not having their father there when they needed him the most. The grief had consumed his body, the first months the only thing that got him out of bed were the race weekends, but with each defeat, his mind weighed more and more; months later, he finally decided to start therapy, he needed to be getting better mentally, he couldn't stay in this situation forever, for the kids, for the team and for everyone that counted on him; and it helped a little, the depression was easier to deal with, the days were lighter, even though the feeling was there. Even though the beaming smile was back around the Paddock and his volunteering to help the environment was back in full swing, it still wasn't enough to make him optimistic about living, even though two years had passed since the whole tragedy and sometimes Hanna's voice came in his head, telling him to move on. For that reason, seeing you walking beside him, smiling and being interested left him with this strange feeling, of a piece of the puzzle finally being found again. He quickly cleared that thought away, it wasn't what he was thinking at all, it was just a happiness to see a person like you on the track - and even if it was a little flare of romance, you were too young for him.

This grief stage wasn’t over, of course, even though he was in the last step: acceptance, although it still hurt deep in his heart and because of it, for a while he hadn’t made the best decisions for his life, however, that stayed only with him. Vettel didn’t open up about it with anyone for a while, friends would come and talk to him, but they only received nods and “I’m fine” type of responses, until the first anniversary of her death, during a Saturday post qualy, where he broke down during an interview and Mick took him back to his driver’s room, on that afternoon he blurted all his feelings out, all the shit he had done during this period, only for two people, Mick and Lewis. Nowadays, he still wasn’t 100% back on his feet again, however, he was trying his best and maybe, the new rookie had something to do with this new motivation.

…..................................................

Your first race was a success, as hard as it was, p3 came with a taste of victory. That night you chose not to go out and celebrate, you were too tired, because something they didn't tell you before was how the car would suck your energy - it was different to what you were used to in Formula 2.

The weeks and your next races were going well, lots of podiums and scoring zones, but still no wins. The situation of not having any wins yet was driving you crazy, no matter how flawless your performance was, the media was starting to get on your nerves with harsh criticism and you hated to admit it, but it annoyed you having to listen to this negativity while other drivers with cars with equal or better machinery than yours who are still winless were getting nothing but praise. The highlight of the week was on Saturday, after an accident during qualifying, you were in Q3 and ready to take your first pole position, but due to Norris braking hard during an 'S' corner in front of you, there was no time to slow down, your car hit the back of the number 4 McLaren, bringing both of them off track and subsequently causing your current times to be deleted and a red flag. You were angry with him and were ready to cuss him out, however after a rather lengthy conversation while your cars returned to the pits, he acknowledged his mistake and you worked it out; even though he admitted it in the post qualifying interviews, there were still allegations and questions about the possible crash being your fault, which made you so angry that he ended the interviews earlier than the others.

On Sunday, even if you started P9, you would do your best to win at Imola, it was a question of honour. You changed strategies with your team, talked to everyone and tried to be as assertive as possible, you knew that they had the ability to make this win happen. Nervousness was running inside you, it seemed that the world would end as soon as the lights turned off. The race was fine, already at the start you had already got p5, the tyre changes were in the time that you had stipulated with the team of what would be better and could hold the others until the end. In the last two laps you were less than a second behind first place, which at the moment was Max, and you wouldn't hesitate to pass him no matter what. Seconds before you crossed the win line, you accelerated the car harder than before, hearing the engine squelching, however it wasn't the moment to stop, not until you passed him; that's what happened, seeing the chequered flag in front of everyone else.

"P1, you are p1." Your response was just to shout back, he was very happy and didn't know what to say.

"P1 piccolina ! You did it." You heard your engineer say on the radio.

"And Charles?" Your voice was still euphoric, you wanted to know where your teammate was standing too.

“P3.”

The interviewers this time were kinder, with several people stopping you and congratulating you on the flawless race you had run. This time you deserved quite a party.

In these weeks you got closer to Vettel, he became a great friend and mentor. You admired him a lot, because he was always a great example and to be able to call him a friend was a privilege, so you didn't hesitate to go and bother him after the race, knocking on the door of his motor home - you knew that he hadn't gone back to the hotel yet, as he always warned you and offered you company on the way back.

"What's up?" his tone of voice was not the most welcoming, maybe he wanted to be alone, however the moment he opened the door and saw it was you, his expression lightened. "Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Do you need anything?"

"Um... So, I won the race..."

"I know... I gave you a hug right after." He cracked a smile, a little confused by the situation.

"Me and a few other drivers... Almost all of them actually, we're going out tonight, it's a nightclub.... I know it's not your style, but it's a celebration and I'd love for you to go." Your face was turning red, it was such a simple request, but you wanted to hide because of sudden shyness. "We reserved some tables near the smaller dance floor, because not everyone is a fan of dancing."

"Do I really need to?" He whined, grimacing and leaning against the stopper.

"Please... Make that sacrifice for me." You gave him the puppy dog look.

He looked at you for a few seconds, wondering whether or not it was really worth it to hang out with several young pilots in a nightclub. "Okay. For you, I'll go." He snapped, sighing loudly, and you gave the German a hug, squealing loudly.

"I'll give you the address! Wear something cool and that doesn't make you look like a middle-aged school teacher."

"Hey! That's an insult against my style."

It was almost 10 o'clock at night, you had just put on your high heels, finally ready; Charles was texting you five times a second, telling you to hurry or he would go alone and you would miss your ride.

When you arrived at the nightclub, you went quickly to the group where the other pilots were, greeting them and drinking your first shot of tequila to open the night properly. Half an hour later, from far away you saw curly blond hair entering the place and at the same moment you knew who it was: Sebastian; he arrived shyly, saying hello to everyone, getting close to you, who gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. You noticed that he took your advice about the outfit, this time wearing light brown jeans, a white tank top with a larger dark green short-sleeved button-up shirt and some black sneakers, but what took your breath away was his hair up in a loose bun with a few strands falling off. Maybe you checked him vigorously, but you could blame the alcohol.

"You're not sober." He commented, discreetly checking your look.

"And you won't be either," And then you handed him a bottle of beer - because you knew he liked it.

Sebastian felt guilty that he was checking your body every five minutes, a conscious voice in his head screamed that you were too young for him, too innocent - I mean, not so innocent, but that made him even more curious. His thoughts were dissipated when he saw you turning a shot of some coloured liquid, paying more attention on what you were going to do or react, his protective instinct was above the desire of wanting you; he didn't comment anything, just watched, disassociating a little bit of reality, having again that little voice that he didn't fit with the others there, that he was too old for this generation.

A few more shots and drinks in, your body already felt lighter. You were chatting with Gasly and Ricciardo, until they came up with the idea of everyone hitting the dance floor - even if most of them weren't the best dancers or didn’t like to, however, when all of them are at least tipsy, they don’t even think before abandoning the tables to go. Vettel hesitated to go with them, so you patted Daniel on the back and said you would be dancing in a few minutes.

“Hey… Don’t you wanna go with us?” You put your hand on his shoulder, looking at him.

“I don’t feel like dancing.” He didn’t look back at you, something was wrong.

“Is something bothering you? You can go if you’re not feeling good here.” Maybe it was the drunk you, but you placed your hand in his neck, making him look at you. “I’m not gonna be upset if you leave. We talked, drinked and it’s okay if you want to go.”

He was hesitating, he didn't know whether to leave or stay there, moments like that were hard; Sebastian was never someone so social, of course in his Red Bull years he partied a lot, but it was never his favourite thing to do. The German looked around and then deposited his eyes on you, still conflicted with all his thoughts running through his head. His biggest dilemma at the moment was about the Ferrari driver, whether he would stay for her, dance along and have fun, finally let go and be able to live a little, move on, on the other hand, this feeling of leaving the past behind was overwhelming. He stood for a few more seconds thinking, while you waited; "what could possibly go wrong?", "what am I being so afraid of?", "why couldn't I make out a little?" , then he sighed low, grabbed another bottle of beer and cracked a smile.

"Let's go to the dance floor." He held her hand. "I can't keep living like this."

"Like what?" Tu asked, not sure what exactly he was talking about.

"Grieving." You didn't know how to answer, for a moment you had forgotten he was a widower, so you just guided him into the huddle of people, squeezing his hand.

You started to dance, letting your body free, it was nice to be able to move to the beat without someone being able to judge you. Daniel came over with two shots of vodka for you, you drank them both quickly and giggled quietly, watching him do the same. This time, the drink hit a little harder, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more and more. As a result, your movements were dirtier, rolling your hips on your own while your friends were glued to unknown girls or dancing shamefully while drinking. Meanwhile Vettel was trying to dance with the younger drivers, but he felt out of place, he wasn't as young as them anymore, so after a while he started to walk past people to walk back to the table, but he caught your eye first.

"Stay dancing here with me." You held his arm, pulling him closer.

"Are you sure? Because… I can see what you want, but you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun… So maybe I'm not the one to be dancing, call Mick or Charles.

“Stop with this no sense!” You blurted the words, laughing. “Just follow the rhythm, look."

Chloe's song 'Have mercy' started playing and you cracked a smile, starting to move your body slowly, maybe you weren't noticing, but it was in a sexy way that turned Sebastian red, looking sideways until you put your arms around his neck, catching his attention.

"Keep moving with me." He placed his hands on your waist, slowly getting more into the rhythm.

You both forgot about the world around you, dancing just for each other, with your bodies glued together and embarrassed smiles as you tried to keep in rhythm until the song ended. He pulled away a little, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. “Montero” by Lil Nas X started playing and you cracked a big smile, turning your back to him and letting the older pilot's hands on your waist, rolling your hips against him. It took a few instants before he understood and got into the rhythm, loosening up and starting to have fun with you.

“Does your mother know you dance to older men like that?” He whispered, travelling his hands around your body.

What had happened after, was that you had spent it together, drinking even more and dancing more overtly, which the others noticed-especially Daniel and Charles, who were closer to you, but they would let the matter die. The point of leaving was when the blonde was really wanting to kiss you, but the last shred of notion he had showed.

"Let's go to the hotel." He muttered, with his accent stronger than usual.

You didn't even say goodbye to anyone, you just hailed a taxi and went to his hotel, arriving there and making sure no one saw you together. When you entered the room, he quickly locked the door and came close to you, passing his hands around your waist.

"I hope I didn't get the wrong signals." He then brought your face closer against his, initiating a sloppy kiss that you reciprocated at the same moment, slipping your arms around his shoulders and your hands stopping at his neck, caressing the spot. His tongue was already going against yours in a desperate rhythm, like he waited all night to be with you; when you broke it off to breathe, you looked at him, worried.

“Is it okay? To be kissing… I know you…” You started, but he put his finger on your lips.

“It’s okay… Let’s focus on us.”

So you kissed him again, this time with more urgency than before, allowing yourself to run your hands down his back, gripping the fabric of his button-down shirt. He broke the kiss this time, looking into your face for a few seconds, admiring you, before he started trailing kisses from the back of your ear to the collar of your dress, sucking and licking a few specific spots, which made you whimper with pleasure.

"Can I continue?" He asked as he touched the zip of your dress.

"You don't have to be so gentle, Seb."

"But you deserve it."

"And I say... You can be rough with me, I know you like it." You cracked a smile, disentangling yourself from him and sitting on the bed.

He looked at her for a few seconds, biting his lower lip before he started to move closer, standing between your legs.

“Oh… Since you like to be dominated…” His face got closer to yours where you could smell his breath, but didn’t kiss you. “Strip for me. Now.” He backed off, crossing his arms.

So this was a game and you would follow his rules, with a little bit of a twist. Slowly, you started taking away your high heels, then your panties that you put in his trouser pocket, with only a part of the red lace sticking out and finally you took your red lace bra off, putting it on the ground. Now, you were only wearing your tight black dress with your legs a little bit open while you waited for his response.

“The dress.”

“I want to keep it on.”

“I don’t remember you being in charge.” He whispered, holding your face with one hand. However, when he saw you like that, his body liked it for sure. “You can keep it on, but don’t disobey me again, okay baby?” You nodded.

He started to kiss your neck again, being rougher than before, biting and leaving marks you would regret in the next morning. Meanwhile, his hands were travelling around your body until they stayed at your breasts, pulling down the fabric just for them to pop out; Vettel looked a few seconds at your boobs, before starting to suck one and pinching the other nipple harshly. You moaned his name repeatedly, feeling your core dripping wet from the attention he gave to both of your breasts. Suddenly he stopped, earning a whine from you.

“Wait up, baby…” He backed off, getting on his knees on the floor - you never thought a man could look this hot on their knees.

He opened your legs, starting to kiss every single inch of your thighs in a provocative way and you just whined in the process, because you wanted him tasting you. “What?” He stopped, looking at you, the vision of a messy haired Vettel between your legs made you moan and throw your head back. “I need you to use your words.” As much as you wanted to say, nothing would come out, it was overwhelmingly good to just have that moment. “Lieb, use your words, I’m not going to say again.”

“I want you to taste me.” He looked at you, cracking up a smile.

Then he lowered his head again, leaving a few more kisses, especially on top of your core. The German’s tongue started to move around your clit, moving it in a tortuous pacing so you could feel every move of his; at the beginning you were already chanting his name, putting a hand on top of his head, holding his golden curls around your fingers. Unexpectedly he put two fingers inside you, moving in a quicker rhythm and curling the tips just a little bit, hitting that sweet spot of yours. What made you orgasm for the first time was that besides his fingers working it up inside you, he started to suck gently your clit - you were moaning incoherent words when you hit your climax. Looking at him when he lifted his face towards you with a smile, licking his lips made you let out a wimp, quickly pulling him up and you getting on your knees.

You kept looking at him while you undid his belt and pulled his trousers to the floor, however, his hard-looking dick with leaking pre-cum inside his boxers called more your attention. Slowly, you reached the bar of his underwear, pulling it down and seeing it; you looked up at him before he nodded so you could do what you wanted for a while. You let your tongue pass through his tip, focusing a bit on there, hearing him hold back moan. In one go, you had put his dick in your mouth, feeling it hit your throat, starting it to quickly bob up and down, finally hearing him groaning in pleasure. His hand reached your hair, guiding your head to go slower than you were. “I won’t last long… You’re too good for me.”

You pulled back, looking at him. “Then I want you to finish inside me.”

He smiled at your cockiness, taking the rest of his outfit and laying you on the bed, while he grabbed the condom and the lube.

“Do we have to use it?” You whined.

“Maybe next time we don’t.” He whispered, covering two fingers in lube and pushing them inside you. Him inside you like that made you whimper, looking at him.

“Please, just fuck me.”

“Patience, honey… I don’t want you to feel pain.”

He quickly slid on the condom and spread your legs to his sides, now getting even closer and placing his hands on your sides.

“Ready?”

You nodded, then he adjusted his dick in your entrance, moving in slowly until all of him was inside of you. Sebastian left little kisses up your neck when he saw you closing your eyes, trying to get used to the feeling, only starting to move when you gave him the signal to.

Your walls were clenching around him as he started to pick up his pace, going faster every thrust - this was near pornographic, you were both moaning each others name, fixing your gaze on each other. You could feel every single inch of him inside you going and your climax getting closer, letting your moans even louder - if that was possible. Then Vettel lowered one of his hands, starting to do circles around your clit with two fingers, which made you come for the second time of the night. The blonde wasn’t that far from reaching his either, his thrusts were more erratic and soon he groaned your name close to your ear, laying on top of you.

“That was… Wow.” You whispered, running your fingers along his back.

“Yeah, wow.” He kissed your cheek, slowly disconnecting both of your bodies, which made both of you groan with the sensation. He took off the condom, throwing away  “Let’s take a shower before we go to sleep.”

“How clever, staying the night.” You got up, wrapping your arms around him.

After you took a warm shower together - that could have been shorter if you didn’t kept kissing and caressing each other, you two laid on his bed. You were wearing one of his old Ferrari t-shirts and he was only in his boxers, drinking wine - that he already had, from the bottle.

“I always had a crush on you…” You whispered, trailing his abdomen with your fingers. “Teenage me would be very happy, especially that she used to shamefully read smut about you on the internet.”

“Oh, wow… So I have always been your target?” He joked, running his hand up and down your thigh.

“Don’t say it like that! It’s just… You’re too hot to not check out.”

“So I’m winning from younger drivers, with more energy to keep you up all night?” He was still being playful, grabbing your ass and squeezing it.

“Well… You just fucked me and looks like would go for a second round.” You lowered your hand to his boxers. “Besides, I like more mature men, who know how to make me feel good.”

He was at a loss of words, your words had left him red in the face and his classic smile. He placed the wine on the bedside table and pulled your body up, starting to kiss you again.

That night, you still did it two more times, enjoying every second together.

Maybe it was wrong and you would regret in the morning everything you had done together, especially for your reputations within the sport, but that moment was about enjoying what life had to offer you.

[nightcolorz]

What would the book characters think if they meet their show counterparts?

I think book Lestat wouldn't like show Lestat at all but he'll have the hots for everyone on the show immediately

Book Daniel would be in shock that his show version is old in human years, that's like, his worst nightmare, he'd have a mental breakdown over it, meanwhile book Armand would love to know show Armand held on so long before giving Daniel the dark gift and his beloved got to live a full life before becoming a vampire

Book Armand would also obsess about show Armand's adult body

Book and show Louis would NOT get on, show Louis would just not stop going "A WHITE MAN???" He would also call the book version boring (and dull, and beige pillow like...)

I loooooveeee this question I actually think about this all the time 😭😭. So so hilarious to me I want to put the book characters and the show characters in a cage match.

I think Show Louis would hate book Louis bcus book Louis is like the embodiment of his flaws in a way 💀💀 he’s like everything bad about show Louis in 4K. Show Louis reacts to book Louis the way he’d react to the Christmas carol ghosts showing him all his fuck ups. What’s funny to me about the race change is that show Louis’s ancestors were slave owners, and if he was born in the 1700s he’d likely have been a slave owner, so meeting wet cat book Louis who is him if he was just a little bit older and way whiter and realizing how terrible he is would be a mind fuck. It’d be like meeting his shitty great great great grandfather who also has his same taste in poetry. On the other hand I think book Louis would be equally as aghast by show Louis being a pimp as show Louis is about book Louis being a slave owner 😭. Book Louis’s moral problems r largely religion based and I think he’d be confused and startled by how little catholic purity standards matter to show Louis 💀. But book Louis is also very polite and southernly passive aggressively pleasant and soft spoken to strangers so I think any kind of altercation that could occur would be very one sided 💀. Show louis is like wtf wtf is this what is wrong with u and book Louis is reading his book silently and frowning.

if book Daniel met show Daniel he’d instantly go into cardiac arrest and die from agony before show Daniel could give him the older self “don’t do drugs u wild youth” inspirational talk. Exactly what u said 💀 its so funny that they made show Daniel old bcus of how afraid book Daniel is of growing old

And YES on all the Armand thoughts loolll. I feel like book Armand and show Armand r the only book vs show characters that would get along. I think book Armand would be veryyy envious of show Armand 😭 bcus show Armand is Book Armand if he was morally stronger, made decisions more soundly and kindly, was an adult, and had giant pecks. He’d would definitely be star struck over how show Armand didn’t turn Daniel until he was an old man and he’d probably go into a insecure self hating spiral from seeing his (perceived) stronger and better and sexier au self. I think also, show Armand would be very kind to book Armand. I get the impression that as a teenager show Armand did look and act more like book Armand does, and he’d react sort of like “this is me if things went more wrong and I was still the teenager that haunts me, look at him hes trying his best” I think show Armand would admire book Armand’s endurance and his self sufficiency (that show Armand doesn’t have) and be kind of like, well if tiny cherub me can live like this maybe I can to. But I think the key to the Armand’s getting along better then the other characters would would be how both Armand’s r so mentally ill and so existential and religious that talking to some alternate version of themselves would not phase them and probably would be like common occurrence of the week 💀

Show lestat and book lestat would hate fuck 💀l think book Lestat would go into a “you hurt my Louis 😰 JAIL jail for 100000 years” spiral, but then eventually get himself together and be like “yknow what I also am evil and have problems who am I to judge” and he’d remember that he is super attracted to men who look like him but are older and smarter and start stripping immediately. I think both lestats would be mad about seeing their flaws reflected in each other and express that by crazy self cest fucking and then lie on the floor together doing each others eyeliner and crying

thank u for the ask this is my favorite thing lol

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hellooo! I just had to request this I know its corny and technically it makes no sense but in a way it does. Like a story with the song Helpless from hamilton lmao. Like reader eliza luke is hamilton and maybe like clarrise is angelica not in the like romantic way just in shes the readers sister!

ℋℯ𝓁𝓅𝓁ℯ𝓈𝓈

How’d you know I love Hamilton, anon? LUKE AND HAMILTON? I love it.

Warnings: not too sure on Clarisse’s age but i think she was around a year older than Percy?? In tlt she would have been 13/14, but my timeline is most definitely off so…

i. “Boy, you got me helpless. Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit.”

The second his eyes met yours, you felt your heart race against your chest. You swallowed the lump in your throat as he sent a small smirk to you, before going back to talking to his friends.

You looked down at the floor now, you’d only been admiring him and for some reason, felt attracted to him more than you had anyone.

ii. “I'm helpless. Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em.”

When you first started dating, you always told him how much you loved his eyes. They were beautiful.

You got lost in them often, when sparring and even when you both taught some campers together. The younger campers teased and gossiped about you both while you rolled your eyes at them, telling them to shut it.

No one has ever seen an Ares kid be as soft as you are with Luke. Even Dionysus is confused at it.

iii. I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight. We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night.Laughin' at my sister as she's dazzling the room. Then you walked in, and my heart went "boom"

Clarisse was talking and you turned your attention back to her, laughing at something she said.

As you leaned against the wall, a boy had caught your eye. He had brown curly hair, he looked to be the same age. He was holding a cup of something and looked at the others partying. He had a scar that ran down his cheek.

He was undeniably attractive.

You met Luke at a party. His first party he’s gone to, your sister stood next to you. She was younger than you, 11, She was brave, not afraid of anything really. And despite only knowing her for a year, you loved her.

Granted, you were 15 at the time, but you couldn’t leave her in the cabin alone, especially after she begged to come. You stared at the boy from afar, the more you looked the more interesting he got. He was talking with some friends.

She began to talk about something before realizing you weren’t listening. Her eyes went over to where you were looking, and they landed on the Hermes boy.

She quirked an eyebrow at you, a small smirk on her face. “Do you like h-“

You quickly snapped out of it, putting a hand over her mouth.

“Shhhh. Clarisse!”

“What?”

“Do you know him?” You asked her.

“It’s Luke, he’s a counselor. Annoying as sh-“

“Language.”

“He’s annoying as shit. Good swordsman but annoying.”

“How have I never realized him?” You muttered to yourself.

“Probably because there’s a million Hermes kids. Kinda hard to keep track. Plus, since you train with the…” she paused to do her best impression, which was just a high pitched squeal. “Aphrodite kids, you don’t see them much.”

“Huh.” You murmured.

“Are you gonna stand there gawking all day or are you gonna actually go up to him?” she asked you. You sighed, looking over to him again. You thought for a moment before shaking your head.

iiii. Tryin' to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom. Everybody's dancin' and the band's top volume. Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine

“Oh, seriously, you’re not gonna live a little?” One of your friends asked, coming up to you.

“I’m good.” You shook your head.

“You’re coming.” She told you, and before you could even protest, she dragged your hand and dragged you to the dance floor. You sighed, shaking your head as you slowly began to move to the music, your friends wildly and loudly cheering you on.

A smile on your face, you glanced back at the boy in the corner, your smile faltered.

V. My sister made her way across the room to you. And I got nervous, thinking, "What's she gonna do" She grabs you by the arm, I'm thinking "I'm through.”

It was then that you noticed Clarisse go over to him, tired of your gawking and ogling, even on the dance floor.

Vi. Then you look back at me, and suddenly I'm helpless. Oh, look at those eyes, oh, look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit. I'm helpless, I know down for the count and I'm drowning in 'em.

Your eyes widened, and you pushed yourself out of the crowd, watching her grab his arm and point over to you. His eyes snapped from her small form to you, a soft smile making its way onto his face.

Your eyes looked into his from across the room, both of you seemingly lost in them as Clarisse slipped away from Luke and made her way back to you. But you didn’t even notice.

You knew at that moment, that you loved that boy with all your heart. You didn’t believe in true love at first sight until you felt it.

[papaya-twinks]

also i have an oscar req, maybe he meets reader in china (implied asian? idk its self indulgence) and then he gets lost and she helps him and then they explore and she shows him chinese culture since osc is 1/16 chinese and yeah

Warnings: Fluff!

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!asian!reader

A/N - for my DAUGHTER 😍😍😍 also I didn’t have time to write about like the entire thingy about them exploring Chinese culture coz I have like other requests and there’s so many 😍😍😍

You were sitting outside a restaurant, eating your favourite make of avocado toast - well, you didn’t mean to lock eyes with the cutest stranger you had ever laid your eyes on. Neither did you mean to spill herbs all down your jumper. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry,” he rushed forwards, helping you brush down the crumbs as you flushed red. What an impression, am I right?

“Not your fault,” you said, laughing it off as he smiled. Yup, definitely the cutest guy EVER. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Shanghai international circuit is?” he asked, making you look up. “You’re going to the Grand Prix? You’re a fan too?” you replied, eyes wide. Little did you know. “You could say that. Im Oscar by the way,” he held out his hand to shake it. You took it with a smile, “Y/N,”.

“Pretty name,” he said, helping you stand up so you could guide him. “I’m going too, actually,” you said, “we could go together,”. He seemed to like the idea, following you gingerly through the crowd. “How long have you watched F1?” he asked, half amused at you not knowing who he was. “Briefly watched it, found out there was a GP happening near me, thought why not,” you shrugged.

“Know any drivers?” he asked, scooting beside you. “I know…Lewis Hamilton’s the best…Max is winning now, and that’s about it,” you shrugged. “Got a favourite team?” he questioned. “McLaren probably. I like their vibe,” you said, pulling a laugh from him. “Mr Piastri,” a guard greeted him as he turned to the man beside you. You turned to him, how the hell did the guard know his name? “So about me ‘attending’ the GP,” he fingers made air quotations.

“Oscar Piastri?” you blinked, confused. “Mhm,” he hummed, cheeks slightly pink. “I didn’t want you to treat me differently or anything,” he muttered as you laughed. “Guess I’ll go find my seat then,” you turned to walk away. “No, wait, you helped me get here,” he said, grabbing your arm as you frowned with confusion, “you could always join me in the garage?” he asked, definitely blushing.

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyes lighting up. “Absolutely. You could go out and show me some of the things around after the practise,” he grinned. And it was settled. You watched the race and then you met up with Oscar. “Hmmmm,” a voice said behind you, making you turn around. “What, Lando?” the Aussie in front of you groaned at the other driver. “Hm?” he said, acting oblivious. “Lando,” he blinked, rolling his eyes. “Hmmmm,” the Brit repeated, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Girl,” he gestured vaguely to you. “No shit,” Oscar rolled his eyes, tugging on your sleeve. “Wear protection, kids!” Lando yelled after you as you flushed and covered your face. Oscar certainly had interesting company.

[captain-mj]

Can we get a Selkie!Soap x Human!Ghost fluff (or smut, whichever one you want) where Ghost has to find Soap in seal form first? Like a game?

Lmk if this doesn't make sense and I'll try my best to reword it!

You worded it perfectly! Thank you so much for this ask it's so cute!

Ghost fixed his hoodie and ski mask before heading out. The beach was rather large, sandy white sands with rolling blue waves. Rocks jutted from the sands and he could see other seals moving around.

His lover had already turned and disappeared off somewhere. He smiled a little and started to search for him, trying to pick him out by his pattern alone but it was a bit hard when the seals were all laying on top of each other.

Ghost hummed. "Johnny? You still here?" He listed off the things about Johnny that made him stand out. Singed whiskers and ears. They were like a furred seals ears, but none of the regular seals around here would have them. He tried to pick him out using that but he couldn't see him.

Soap liked this game and Ghost liked making him happy. Plus, it helped him. He was getting faster at this.

"Hey, have you seen my husband?" Ghost asked one of the seals and they rolled on their back in a way he thinks was supposed to be friendly. They wiggled and he accepted that as a no.

He put his hands on his hips and stood on a rock, turning in circles.

This morning had been nice. Waking up to Soap and him in bed. Feeling his breath against his neck. A warm body in his arms.

Now if only he could track him down and then they could go get dinner.

He hopped down for the rock, thinking he saw two ears peeking out from the fur of one of the seals. They met eyes and it started to run away as quickly as possible.

Ghost started to chase after them, suddenly very glad Seals are very slow on land. This particular seal seemed a bit faster than the average seal but Ghost was faster. They raced through the sand and Ghost had to focus so he didn't exactly stumble in the sand.

Ghost caught the seal by its tail and it swung around as if to snap at him. He jumped back in case it attacked him. Despite his training, if he was wrong, the seal was still a wild animal and he didn't really want to fist fight a seal on a beach.

The seal looked up at him and he saw the telltale stripe and the ears poke up. Even like this, Ghost would know him anywhere.

"There you are, sweetheart." Ghost smiled at him and leaned over closer to him. He scratched the top of his head.

Soap reached up and bumped their noses together.

"You smell like fish."

Soap "roared". That may be the scientific name, but Ghost thought it looked more like when someone is about to sneeze and hasn't gotten it out yet. The sound wasn't much more impressive.

"You do. Did you eat already? I thought we were going to have dinner together."

Soap immediately ducked his head, looking up with giant baleful eyes.

"I forgive you, don't worry. Shift back for me?" He pet down Soap's soft fur, crouching down so they were close to each other. Soap slid his coat from his body, holding it around himself so he wouldn't be naked.

"Hey, love." Soap mumbled, voice a bit reedy and hoarse. Ghost kissed his cheek through the fabric on his skin.

"Let's go back. You can take a shower while I eat."

"Do I actually smell like fish??"

"Yes." Ghost laughed. "And ocean water. Though I don't hate that one as much."

Soap got up and stretched before grabbing on to his shirt, humming. "You should chase me more."

Ghost picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. "I personally prefer catching you."

Soap laughed and hugged his arms around him as he was carried.

[elisysd]

Green Light - Lorde

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

But honey I'll be seein' you down every road I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it

The three Grand Prix that followed for Charles were rather uneven in terms of results. A P4 in China, a P5 in Miami but a fine victory at Emilia-Romagna which gave him confidence for Monaco. He was looking forward to racing in his hometown, on the streets he knew by heart, and especially in front of Lyanna. It really was a special Grand Prix for him, but this year even more so.

As for Lyanna, she had just finished filming Ferrari just in time to start promoting Flowers and Crown. The movie was due to have its premiere on Friday evening, the week of the Grand Prix, and she was also expected in Cannes the day before for the festival with the entire Ferrari film team, who were among the guests of honour. Charles would be joining her, and she knew that Kika and Pierre would be there too. The opportunity for a double date for the couple of friends before the wild weekend in Monaco got underway.

Lyanna was dreading the moment she would meet David again. She hoped he wouldn't make things more complicated than they had to be. She wanted to get the promotion of the film over with as quickly as possible, especially as she suspected she was going to be asked questions which would have more to do with a certain Ferrari driver than with the film. But she couldn't really blame the journalists, as most of the promotional activities were taking place in the middle of the Monaco Grand Prix.

Charles had returned from Italy the day before, but Lyanna had the impression that they had barely crossed paths. He was very busy with press duties and she was going back and forth between Nice and Monaco to sort out the final details before starting the events to which the film crew had been invited and the interviews. Her mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and she barely had time to sleep or rest. So when she arrived at the hotel in the heart of Monte Carlo, where she was going to spend the day answering the same questions and pretending to have a complicity with David that didn't exist, she was delighted to see the team of make-up artists who were going to take care of her. Once she was ready, she went to the lounge where the PR officer, David and a young blonde woman whom Lyanna didn't know were present.

“Lyanna, thank God you’re here. I was just briefing David about what you can expect from today.”

She began to explain everything to Lyanna, who pretended to listen to her as she nibbled on a croissant. She watched with curious interest as David and the pretty blonde talked and laughed together. They looked close. David's attitude was also more relaxed than she remembered. He didn't seem like the complete asshole she'd met almost a year ago.

“And I think that’s all I had to say for today, did you understand everything Lyanna?”

“Yeah, sure. All is good.” She absent-mindedly said.

Soon David, the girl and her were the only person left. Feeling her gaze on him, David turned and approached her.

“Lyanna, hey… long time no see.” He greeted her.

“Yeah…”

“Well… Here’s Hanna. My girlfriend.” He presented the so-called Hanna who waved shyly to Lyanna who gave a little smile.

“Girlfriend? Well, that was definitely something that I was not expected.” She repeated surprised.

“Me neither, to be honest. But you know what they say, we find love in the most unexpected places.”

He took his girlfriend's hand and gave her a long, loving look.

“Where did you guys meet?”

“An art gallery in New-York. I was looking for something for my apartment and she was working there. We bonded over Banksy and Van Gogh and the rest is history.”

“I didn’t know that you liked art?”

“Actually, I studied art history in uni. Before acting. How could you have known? We’ve never really talked.”

“Yeah, that’s because you were an ass to me and everyone.”

“About that… I want to apologise. I got time to self-reflect and most specifically since I’ve met Hanna and I know I’ve been awful to you. And for that I want to apologize.”

Lyanna nodded. Hearing him saying sorry was the last thing she expected while coming today. But it felt nice. Maybe promo wouldn’t be that bad.

“I appreciate, thanks. It doesn’t erase everything that you did and say but it feels nice.”

David nodded to her before the PR rep came to fetch them for the interviews. As Lyanna suspected, some of the questions directed at her had more to do with her personal life and Charles than with the film. She tried to answer them courteously at first, but when the fifth journalist asked her another question about Charles and herself, she couldn't contain her annoyance.  To her surprise, it was David who came to her rescue, skilfully diverting the subject. Then, the whole thing went on very quickly, and she barely had time to eat a few biscuits before going on to a photo shoot that didn't end until very late in the evening.

It was therefore completely exhausted that she returned to Charles' flat at ten o'clock in the evening, wanting to take a long shower and curl up in Charles' arms. Thinking about tomorrow was already giving her a huge headache, as she had to go to Cannes to get ready to walk on the red carpet. This time she was going without Charles, only with the Ferrari film crew, and with Charles, Pierre and Kika the day after. Glancing at her calendar, she wondered when she would even have a minute to herself.

When she entered the room, Charles was fast asleep. Without a sound or sudden movement, she crawled into bed. Charles feeling the mattress sag, moved slightly and unconsciously put his arm around Lyanna's waist to draw her to him. The young woman offered no resistance and soon fell asleep.

She had hardly had a good night's rest when it was time to wake up. Charles was still asleep but it was time for her to get moving. She made herself a quick cup of coffee before meeting her driver, who was due to take her to Cannes. The rest of the morning was a blur and soon Lyanna found herself flanked by Adam Driver, Penelope Cruz and Patrick Dempsey on the red carpet. The quartet spent the rest of the day in interviews before being invited to a party organised by one of the event's sponsors. Lyanna was handed a glass of champagne, which she drank while chatting to a group of people whose names she couldn't remember. Bored to death, she began to drink one glass, then two, then three. Having eaten nothing all day except some hors d'oeuvres, the alcohol quickly went to her head, so much so that one of the hostesses at the event, seeing that the young woman was beginning to feel unwell, forced her to return to the hotel after calling her a taxi.

Alone in her room, Lyanna collapsed on her bed without taking the time to remove her dress and shoes. She felt as if her head was going to explode and she was going to be sick. Mechanically, she picked up the phone and dialled Charles' number. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning and she didn't expect him to pick up, but after a few rings he did.

“Lyanna? It’s two in the morning, are you okay?”

“Charles…I just wanted to tell you I love you, very very much. Very a lot.”

“Very a lot doesn’t exist, love” he said with a smile in his voice.

“Now it does, because I said so.”

“Lya, are you drunk?”

“No. Yes. Maybe a little bit.” She confessed as she was giggling. “You’re cute, did I ever tell you that? And your hair is fluffy.”

“My hair is fluffy. Interesting, I’m going to say that to my mom, she will be happy.”

“I love you. I miss you.”

“So you’re a cute and clingy drunk. Good to know.”

“Do I bother you?”

“Never.” But still she could hear him repress a yawn. “Sleep, love. And drink water, okay. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“You come tomorrow, right?”

“I would not miss that for anything in the world. I love you, Lya. Very a lot.”

And Charles kept his promise. He met Lyanna again the next day for the red carpet and as they posed for the photographers, he realised for the first time in his life what it felt like to be someone's boyfriend. The cameras were flashing at Lyanna, she was the one being approached, the one they wanted to talk to. Charles wasn't important. It did him good, for once, to be in the background, but he also understood how Lyanna could feel when she joined him on the tracks.

They both met Pierre and Kika inside the building and decided to just stay together and watch the festivities from afar. Kika had to meet some brand executives while Pierre was enjoying the free food and drinks. Lyanna got to talk with a few people from the entertainment industries as Charles was watching her, in awe. Something Pierre noticed and had fun commenting on.

“I think there is some drool down the corner of your mouth.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re so in love it’s sickening.”

“You are no better.”

“At least I don’t look like a lost puppy whenever Kika is not around me.”

“I’m not… you know what? I’m not even going to comment on that.”

“That’s because you know that I’m right.” Pierre laughed.

“Laugh all you want, you’ll be less of a smart-ass when I’ll overtake you this weekend.”

“You know that you can’t overtake in Monaco.”

“I have an extra good feeling about this weekend. And Lya will be there, so nothing wrong can happen.”

“I’m praying for you, my friend.”

The group of friends didn’t stay too long at the event. The boys had to leave early in the morning to go back to Monaco where they both had press duties to get to. As for Lyanna she had to meet once again the Flowers and Crown crew for some events and interviews. She couldn’t wait for the weekend to be over to finally have some peace and quiet. To have a proper meal and a proper sleep, as well.

Finally, after what felt like an ever-lasting long week, Friday arrived and with it the free practice as well as Arthur qualification session that she and Charles were going to attend, along with Carla and Pascale. When she woke up, she was alone, Charles already gone. She wasn’t feeling well, she felt week and felt like each one of her movements was going to make her throw up. And she had not even eaten yet.

Pascale and Carla arrived a short while later with croissants and other pastries fresh from the bakery, as Lyanna was almost done making herself look presentable. As soon as she opened the door, the smell hit her and as her stomach had already decided to bother her since she had woken up, it didn’t take much for her to rush back to the bathroom and throw up. Pascale rushed to her side, holding her hair back to help her. When she finally stopped Pascale gave her a glass of water and looked at her worryingly.

“You’re pale Lyanna, you should rest, today. It’s just free practices Charles will understand if you don’t come.”

“But I want to go. It’s not only for Charles i want to be there for Arthur as well. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I think it’s just the stress of these last few days. The fresh air will do me good.”

“If you’re sure… but the first signal of you not feeling well, I’m sending you back home.”

But Pascale didn’t need to carry out her threats. By the time Lyanna was stepping inside the paddock, she was feeling much better. She didn’t feel the need to tell Charles about the morning as it was not such a big deal despite Pascale recommendations.

After the Free Practice, it was time to support Arthur. Charles brought Lyanna to the F2 paddock and they both find a quiet spot where they could enjoy the race without being bothered. Lyanna did her best to cheer on Arthur and it warmed Charles’ heart who took the opportunity to snap some pictures of her. He needed a new lock-screen. Arthur ended up P3 in qualifying, his best result up to date and Charles was so proud of him. Giving him a big hug as soon as he stepped out of the car. Arthur was still disappointed but Charles tries to did his best trying to find positive things to say to his brother. Lyanna could not help but to find that a little funny, knowing Charles.

“He is as hard on himself as you are.” she told him on their way back to the F1 paddock.

“I know, it runs in the family… I just want him to know how proud I am of him. I know how hard it is for him and how illegitimate he feels sometimes. It makes me feel bad because I know that it’s my fault.”

“You are a good brother Charles, he doesn’t resent you. He admires you and he wants to be like you. You are his hero. It won’t change.”

If Lyanna thought that her day would end after the FP2 and that she finally would be able to go to bed early, it was in reality far from the truth. Andrea and some friends of Charles were going to come to the flat for dinner. It was a little tradition that Charles had and that he wanted to share with his girlfriend.That’s how she found herself in the kitchen, at 8 pm watching Charles’ attempt to cook pasta under the astonished eye of Andrea.

“Stop judging me guys! You’ll see that they are going to turn out just fine. I’m telling you, it’ll be the best pasta you’ve ever had.”

Joris, who was near, didn’t try to hide the fact that he was recording the whole situation.

“I’m going to keep that preciously somewhere. It could come out handy someday.”

“I’m 3 seconds away to order an uber eats, I know that’s going to be a catastrophe.” added Lyanna.

“I just hope no one will be sick. I need him at the top for tomorrow…” worried Andrea as boiling water was coming out out of the saucepan.

“Guys! Have faith in me!”

Lyanna never ate such horrible pasta in her life. And from the look on everyone’s faces, she was not the only one.

“I didn’t know that it was possible to screw up pasta, yet you prove me wrong.” she told him as everyone was laughing, Charles included.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s crocante! And I’m still going to eat them because in this house we don’t waste food!”

The day of qualifying, Lyanna woke up earlier than Charles with the need to throw up again. She still wasn’t feeling well. She was not feeling rested and her head was spinning a little. this ended up waking up Charles earlier than he expected.

“Lya? Love? Are you okay?”

“Peachy. I’m never eating your crocante pasta ever again. Look what you’ve done to me…”

“I’m so sorry, love… Do you want me to get you something?”

“I’ll be fine, please for the love of god don’t go near the kitchen… ever again.”

If the Friday was relatively calm for Charles and Lyanna, Saturday started to feel a bit overwhelming for her. As soon as they stepped out in the street to go to the tracks, people were there to congratulate him, encouraging him and wanting pictures or autographs from him. Charles was trying his best to accomodate everyone while making sure that Lyanna was okay.

Charles ended P2 in qualifying and everyone was so happy for him. Only Max had managed to snatch the pole from him by driving brilliantly. Charles had nothing to regret, he really had driven his best. But he couldn’t help but feeling as he failed. He wanted to win in Monaco so bad. He wanted to win for him, his family, his friends, his dad, Lyanna and for everyone that supported him. But his disappointment disappeared as soon as he saw Lyanna bright smile when he entered the Ferrari hospitality.

“P2, champ! I’m so proud of you!” she said as she stood up to hug him.

“Yeah, but it’s not pole position and you know how important it is to get it here.”

“Hey, both you and I know that the chances of safety car in Monaco are higher than anywhere else. With a good strategic call and no mistakes during the pit stops, you can definitely win. Everything can happen here.”

“Since when are you this knowledgeable on the topic?” asked Charles, surprised.

“I have a very good teacher who happens to race on the weekend. He taught me a lot. And he is also my boyfriend so that helps.”

“He seems like a good boyfriend. You’re lucky.”

“The best.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

Sunday morning began to feel like every single day since Friday, with the throwing up, the feeling of not being fully rested and her head spinning. Fortunately, Charles had already left so she didn’t have to explain anything to him and he would not feel worried. It was the last thing he needed today. But Lyanna felt so much worse than the day before. She could feel her legs trembling and she could barely stand up. She tried to go back to sleep before Pascale and Carla arrivals but failed when she could feel her stomach not cooperating with her. She ended up giving up and decided to prepare herself some tea in the hope of making the nausea go away. She also tried to nibble on some slice of bread but thought it was tasteless. He head was pounding and she was hoping the ibuprofen she had taken would have a miracle effect.

She tried to hide her exhaustion behind a nice and glowy make up but it was not enough to fool Pascale when she finally arrived to take her to go watch Arthur’s race.

“You look like a ghost, Lyanna. Are you really sure you want to come, it’s just Arthur’s race, I would prefer if you were resting and be fine for Charles.”

“I won’t be able to rest, I know that. I prefer to go and try to forget how awful I feel.”

“Suit yourself, Lya, but you are worrying me.”

Lyanna spent most of the race sat in a corner with a bottle of water to keep her hydrated, on Pascale’s advice. Arthur finished the race P6 after a bad call from the team but he was nonetheless very happy with his result. It was the first time he finished his home Grand Prix and he was proud. And everyone was proud of him. Lyanna started to feel a little better by lunchtime, where she met Charles. They found a quiet spot in the hospitality away from everyone. Lyanna could tell Charles was anxious as his right leg couldn’t stop to bounce. It started to stress her out and she decided to place her hand on it and to squeeze it lightly.

“Sorry, it’s just a mix between anxiety and excitement.” he said to her as he was taking a bite of his avocado toast.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. And no matter what I’m proud of you. Even if it doesn’t turn out the way you hope it will, I’ll be there. Always.”

It was all the reassurance Charles needed to know that it would be okay.

Soon it was time for them to go back to the garage and for him to step into the car. Lyanna went to the back where Arthur was as well as Pascale. Right before being called by his mechanics and engineer, Charles toddled around his family to give them a hug and a forehead kiss for his mom. Then, he took Lyanna’s waist to pull her against him. She put both hands on his chest, playing with the scratch pads of his racing suit.

“Well… be fast. Come back to me. I love you”

“Always. I love you too. Take care of that for me, okay?” he asked, giving her the little red bracelet that Lyanna put immediately around her wrist.

A few moments later, the race began with Charles trying to pressurise Max, unsuccessfully. The Red Bull was fast and it was a matter of time before max took the lead comfortably, leaving Charles defending against George. Lyanna had to admit it, the race was boring, as everyone had told her it would be. But still she was still watching the screen intently, leaving a gasp when Lance lost the control of his car and ended up in the wall. His mistake led the deployment of the safety car and everyone was holding their breath waiting for Ferrari strategy. The call made was a double pit stop with the priority for Charles. A few seconds later, Lyanna could see from the corner of her eyes the number 16 red car stopping and making a great 2.2 seconds stop, which was great. Lyanna breathed a little bit better as Charles was back on the track, trying to catch up to Max. He was just three seconds away, but there was only ten laps to go and the gap between them remained the same. But at least Carlos who managed to get rid of George thanks to a missed pit stop from Mercedes. But at least, the podium seemed secure for Charles and Lyanna could start to feel tears form behind her eyelids. She looked at Pascale and Arthur that were in the same sate of happiness as her and even if everyone remained focus in the garage, you could feel the atmosphere had changed.

There were only five laps to go when Lyanna stood up and she could immediately feel that something was wrong with her. Her legs felt weak and she felt dizzy. She felt like the world was spinning around her and tried to hold on to something but failed as the world faded to black around her.

Charles did it. He finally made it. After all the DNF, engine failures, strategy fucks up, he finally was on the podium of his home Grand prix. Not on the first step as he would have loved to but on the second one. He would not lie, there were a few tears that were threatening to fall when he walked on the podium. His gaze scanned the crowed looking for his mom, his brothers and Lya. If he had no problems finding his family, it’s Lya who was nowhere to be seen. He was disappointed, his first podium here in Monaco and she was not there. He did not worried much than needed, he knew she was pretty busy with interviews and media duties, something he knew all to well. Bu still, somehow it hurt him.

So as soon as he got rid of his obligations, the first thing he did was looking for his family who was waiting for him at the Ferrari hospitality. When he saw them and most importantly when he saw the dark look on their faces,he immediately knew something was wrong. And he was sure of it when the hug his mom gave him was feeling more like an i’m sorry than a congratulations.

“Where is Lya?” he asked immediately

“Charles… she is at the hospital. She fainted.” announced his mom.

And just like the high he was on was over and he felt his heart shattered in million tiny pieces.He did not care about anything else than rushing to the hospital to be at Lya’s side. Nothing mattered more than that. Not the journalists, not the team, not the after party and definitely not the Prince Albert of Monaco whose name was appearing on his phone as he was sprinting towards the paddock entrance, Arthur following closely behind.

“She is at Princesse Grace hospital. The medics thought it was better for her to be there rather than staying with the medical staff here.” told him Arthur as they were getting on the bikes.

“Fucking trafic… when did it happen? What happened exactly?”

“She was already not feeling well this morning when mom came to your flat to get her. But Lya insisted to come, she did not want to miss your race. Mom tried to resonate her but she is pretty stubborn. And then she turned pale all at once and she fainted a few laps before the final one.”

“She seemed fine when we ate lunch together.”

“Actually, mom said she has been sick for a few days. She threw up a lot and she is really tired.”

“A few days? I knew about Saturday but I thought I food poisoned her with the pasta. Why did no one tell me anything?”

“You’ve barely been there. And I’m not saying that to blame you. I know you were busy.”

“Still, I’m busy but I could have still taken time off for family emergency.”

Charles felt like he had never ridden a back as fast in his life. Soon they were at the hospital and he rushed to the reception, Arthur following close behind on the phone with Pascale that would call Lya’s mom.

“Lyanna Michel. Where is she? She was brought here as an emergency.”

“Who are you? Only family is allowed.”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“Room 164, third floor. The elevator is this way.”

Charles thanked and wave at Arthur to follow him. When they finally got there, the doctor was coming out of the room. Charles rushed to his side and asked him how was Lyanna.

“She is resting at the moment. He blood test showed us that she had anaemia, which explained why she felt so tired, the headaches and the feeling of dizziness. And also why she was throwing up. It’s a never ending cycle. She was too tired to eat, her stomach began to get accustomed to the lack of nutriments and then rejects everything when she tried to eat normally. We are still going to do a bone marrow biopsy to be sure there is no sign of leukaemia. We are going to keep her for a few days.”

Biopsy. Leukemia. Those were words Charles did not like at all. He felt guilty. If he was the good boyfriend he thought he were he should have seen the signs. he should have seen she was sick. But he was too caught up in his own bubble to noticed it.

“Can I see her?” he asked

“Sure. But not more than one person at once. She really needs to rest.”

Charles entered the room and saw immediately Lyanna’s frame linked to different machines that were monitoring her as well as an iron infusion. He took he seat next to her and take her cold hand in his carefully. She shifted a little, turning her head toward him.

“Hey, champ…”

“Lya…” he sighed, defeated.

“No. Don’t be like that. I’m okay, Charles. Well not right now because I feel like shit, but I’ll be. I’m just sorry to not have been there to see you on the podium.”

“I don’t care about the podium, Lya. I only care about you.”

“I’ve ruined your home race…”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Don’t worry about that, okay.”

“But you must have so many places to be at, so many people to talk to…”

“I’m right where I need to be.”

She closed her eyes for a short moment before opening them again. She could see how uncomfortable Charles was and she knew that this hospital was bringing back some bad memories. She squeezed lightly his hand and trace smal pattern in the palm of his hand to get his minds off of the dark corners it went to.

“I’ve talked to the doctor… He talked about leukaemia and biopsy Lyanna.”

“Normal tests to run, Charles. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, barely had time to myself, to eat and drink and rest properly. Something like that was bound to happen.”

“Still I hate that…”

“I’ll be fine. I promise you.”

“Yes. And as soon as you leave this place, I’m not leaving your side. You’re coming with me for the European races. This way I can watch you and take care of you properly. It’s you and me against the world, Lya.” he whispered to her as he was pressing his lips on her forehead.

========

author's note: It's the Monaco Grand Prix baby!!The longest chapter of the book but the very first one I planned. I as so anxious to write it because I wanted it to be perfect. I hope you enjoyed it! As usual, let me know your thoughts through the comments or ask box if your too shy. And don't forget to leave a like or reblog the story. It helps. And it lets me know that you like the story. taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard If you are tagged but did not receive any notifications, please check your settings because it means that Tumblr didn't let me tag you.

[starlightsuncrow]

Heyyy :3 can I hear about how Crow and Momo met each other for the first time in each version? I know you mentioned in Starfall at least that there should've been a rivalry between them, but how exactly does that go? And at what point in GW2 do they meet? (Am also curious to hear more about the Starfall Guild if you'd like to talk on that as well!) - @magitechbatt

Oh this will be so fun to explain!!! I'll start with the meetings and if i got space, the guild ! If not, i'll make a post <3 In Gw2 Crow stayed under Dragora's wing for a long time, but in s2, right after the meeting in the grove and its disastrous ending, Dragora urged Crow to join the commander and the others, since he couldn't. Thing is... Crow is very quiet in general. So you got this weird sylvari who barely talks and has a piercing gaze following you around because a firstborn told you they would be helpful. Okkk. Caoimhe wasn't impressed, but hey, any help is appreciated. At least he was extremely cuuuurious in understanding them though!

Crow who doesn't care about titles and actually despises them , which didn't help in this case, it's less about Momo as a person and more because...of the role? and Caoimhe who doesn't quite know...how to approach warmly this guy. Very formal for a long time! Until HoT starts and that's where formality was thrown into the wind. Working together closely and for survival truly does wonders to relationships. It's not as serious as I make it out though. They trip on each other because social stuff is neither strong suit.

As for Starfall! The meeting is funnier. Crow was scraping for money ( he's wanted by the Guild and so hunted constantly. I mean it) and went for bounties in small areas where the help is highly needed but less "seen". Momo was staying in the same area, driven by his purpose, meaning slaying anything that was a danger to a magic imbalance. So uh... Crow was looking at the bounties on a wall and uh.. Momo kiiinda was asking him to move, putting a hand on their shoulder but uh. Crow reacted and punched immediately. Startled them. Not a great impression. Crow decided to work together with him because it's safer and as a ...favor? apology? for that. It was supposed to be just for one big bounty. They kept going. First it was for safety, then to test each other, became a sort of amicable rivalry in who was gonna deliver the final blows and such, friendly competition. As for last...well, the company was nice wasn't it? Crow doesn't know yet he's a fae and Momo frankly didn't care in telling anything, because he thought it was gonna be a fleeting moment with a person. Too bad Momo <3. The rivalry was in part due to the dryad/fae thing, it isn't easy to surpass this eternal hate the two have, but ...neither Crow or Momo are quite normal for their own race standards. The other part is because they are goobers. Both isolated and tripping over social cues and stuff, they bonded over spars and fights and moments of reprise until it got harder to imagine going back to be alone ( It happens in Starfall for a while sadly <3)

They're enemies by race, rivals and friends by progression and then something more i dont have the right label for it and neither do they ahah. There's always that sort of friction with them but they make it work! As for the Guild... that's all me ! It's a place, a bit isolated from the big city, where the mages get "reformed" into mage hunters. Starfall is a world where magic in the big towns and stuff is considered scary and kind of forbidden. So if people got caught or seeing a child with magic? Guild time. In Northward ( city) a mage child has to go to the Guild. Mandatory. In the public's eye it's just normal! Nothing bad happens to them after all. ( wrong). There's a lot of propaganda and brainwash. The Guild is formed by recruits, hunters, teachers, professionists, a leader and its right hand. Plus other mansions that don't need soldiers like librarians and such. Recruits go through a period of training and learning, slowly forgetting the outside and learning rules and what's needed to survive. Passing the test, which gives you a lovely magic brand ( tracker), you are now bound to the Guild, going out needs permission and the brand acts as a leash. Fun, i know. Hunters then go through actual training, where they can slowly decide what profession they wanna be: Spellbreaker, Assassin and Reflector. Each of them is to stop a mage to cast and be captured/killed ( the black gradients on the body is a tattoo that indicates how many tasks you completed. It's painful. It's a stain) In picking one or more, you get your own mentor. Not many can pick 2 or even 3, it's a lot of work and dedication ( or high ranks want you to shine). The more you prove you're a good asset , the more you're sponsored? That's how Crow ends up with two professions and a lot of people who wanted to see him rising up in the high ranks. This is where they form teams too, after seeing how the hunters work together in the trials and missions. It's where teams solidify , due to mentors being friends too or smth. (In my case... Crow and Swan were a team, no i've never shown Swan here aaaa) High ranks are mentors usually, people who can go in the fields but usually are the trainers and the ones with power to discuss and decide with the Leader. One of them is also the right hand. Hunters usually ...die in the fields. Not many had the chance to retire and work in the Guild, even less Hunters who were able to retire out of it ( these...usually are killed from the Guild itself to protect secrets ) It's a bleak prospect for a future but the brainwash is so powerful they don't quite realize or fight against it, and when it's too late...well... you know. Mentors don't treat you bad per se, but... it's all to create soldiers and weapons after all, there's affection or care but rarely it goes beyond that. You're numbers to them unless you're ,again, sponsored and quite loved in the Guild due to status etc... Let's not add the fact Crow got the worst mentor ever , that added even more fucked up things to the training and we're good /jk. There's some snippets still but they're related to Crow mostly. Like...you have no contact with the outside even if your family is alive. Yeah, it's a secret, yeah Crow found it, no the reaction to know it wasn't pretty and it was one of the small sparks that made him fight back. In Fallen Au... Crow becomes the leader of it and it's 10x more fucked up. I think this is the gist of it! Sorry about the length! And thank you so much for asking!! The Guild is my personal playground >:)

[explorersaremadeofhope]

I would like to know more about both your Star Trek Terror fic and your Crozier hates tinder fic please 🙏

omg okay so like, these are both a bit old, star trek terror fic is proper old, i think i wrote it in 2021, but im still hoping!! i had so much fun just working out the worldbuilding on that one and how the different characters slot into different roles, but then i ran up against my old nemesis The Actual Plot and was like 'hmm ok, i think i need to know a bit more about Star Trek TOS lore for this', aaaand that's where i stalled. it's fitzier, but like, eventually. very eventually. you'll see why from the snippet 😂

crozier hates tinder fic was me going 'why is there almost no modern au romcom rossier fic' and then having a very funny convo with some folks on discord about science nerds on tinder. that one mostly exists in vague outline form with a scene or two written out plus random details like 'james ross owns not one but several tacky early 2000s mugs from various places in the southern hemisphere, preferably with penguins on'.

snippets mostly below a cut because they got long (sorry about that)!

Star Trek Terror:

francis raised his brows, but said nothing. ignoring fitzjames' confused expression, he turned his attention back to the file in his hand. "i see from your service record that you've received several commendations for bravery in engagements with the romulans and the klingons." he looked up. "out of curiosity, do you speak klingon? or romulan?"

"ah, no, sir," fitzjames smiled apologetically. "i'm afraid i don't."

"i see. so your expertise lies primarily in firing at alien races, not communicating with them."

it wasn't a fair question, nor a fair conclusion. clearly taken aback, fitzjames blinked in open surprise. "sir," he began carefully, "i believe my qualifications -"

"your qualifications, commander fitzjames, are perfectly adequate. even impressive. for war." francis fixed him straight in the eye and held his gaze. "but don't let the repurposed nature of our ship fool you. we are a survey vessel. you will appreciate, no doubt, that the primary goal of any exploratory mission is to avoid bloodshed, not to excel at it." fitzjames drew breath to speak. francis ignored it. "put bluntly, commander, we don't particularly need a war hero. what we need is someone who knows how to calibrate a spectrometer correctly."

"with all due respect, sir," said fitzjames, once he was sure francis had finished speaking, "i think you'll find i have the requisite scientific training to apply for this post." he'd uncrossed his legs while francis was speaking and now sat ramrod straight. his mouth was pinched, his dark brows drawn together.

francis waved that away with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head. "this isn't a twelve-month patrol tour along the neutral zone, commander. we will be five years in deep space. sometimes uncharted space. in that situation, a man's merits on paper will matter far less than his personal qualities."

there was a pause in which fitzjames lowered his gaze to the floor, his jaw working. when he spoke again it was to a point just above francis' shoulder. the affable buoyancy had drained from his voice, leaving a gravel harshness which francis privately suspected was far more genuine. "i respectfully posit, sir," said fitzjames, "that you don't know my personal qualities, seeing as we've only just met."

francis' smile did not reach his eyes. "be that as it may. i'm afraid my decision is made, commander." he set his padd aside and folded his hands on the table. "thank you for your interest. and good morning."

Tinder fic:

“Well,” says Blanky flatly. “That's sexy.”

But as he reads over the message one more time, Francis’ heart is actually slowing down from its panicked gallop – his dread replaced with sheer relief at being given a topic of conversation he's fluent in.

“No, no, it's fine,” he says absently, staring at the words I'm thrilled we matched. “I don't mind.”

“Aye, you wouldn't, would you. What the hell are–” Thomas peers at the screen more closely. “Pinnipeds?”

“Seals. Well. Not just seals.” Francis looks up. “It's one of those things – all seals are pinnipeds but not all pinnipeds are seals. You know?”

Blanky regards him with the look of a man who absolutely does not. "Right."

After staring at his phone for a few moments longer, Francis opens the keyboard. 

Hi, he types out with deliberation. Thank you for – no. That comes off a bit pathetic, doesn’t it. Backspace. 

Thank you; likewise. Exclamation point? Does the full stop look dour? Cold? But he’s never been much of an exclamation point man. Likewise – I’ve always wanted to visit Antarctica. What

He stops typing, seized by a sudden fear. Hurriedly erasing the message draft, he looks up at Blanky. “Can people see me typing on this thing?”

“Fuck should I know, Francis? I’ve been married for twenty years. – Give us a minute, though.” Blanky pulls out his own phone and writes a text. Less than a minute later, his phone pings. “Hannah says aye. Also wants to know if I'm cheating on Esther.”

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 31 - Emptiness/Setbacks/“Take it easy.”

Scogan Bingo challenge | SBC_005 FREE Scogan Bingo challenge | Halloween/Spooky-themed adoptables 9 - Back From The Dead

When Hank called Logan and told him to get his ass to Stark Tower this instant, Logan almost told the blue furball to go fuck himself.

The dust of the Phoenix and Cure crises was only just starting to settle. They'd literally buried their dead – or rather, honored them, as two of these three graves were notoriously empty – just yesterday. Politicians all over the world were circle-jerking to who could come up with the most absurd new restrictions for mutants, punishing everyone for a few insane motherfuckers going off the rails once more, while the Cure kept on tearing their race apart from the inside.

And in all that mess, Ororo and Logan were suddenly entirely alone, supposed to lead a whole damn mutant school with what little they'd managed to read up in Charles' last message to them and his files by now, and with what Ororo had caught in the cause of the years of how to organize this place. When they weren’t busy trying to explain to completely distraught children what the fuck had happened without even understanding it themselves yet, or listening to minors cry themselves to sleep, they took the occasional minute in their respective apartments for a breakdown of their own, not even having begun to process this whole clusterfuck personally. Seriously. The very last thing Logan had any interest in right now was condescending bullshit from that douchebag billionaire Stark and that walking flag parody of a team leader who had both been happy to sit out this whole crisis on their asses although they usually never got tired of interfering with the X-Men's dealings. But in the end, Logan got on his bike and drove downtown anyway, not least because getting out of this house full of depression for an hour might actually save his sanity. And also because no matter how far he was from accepting that still? He'd probably just been promoted to full-time team leader, after already having been Scott's second-in-command since Alkali Lake. At least temporarily. In spite of Charles, of Jean herself, telling it to his face, part of Logan still refused to accept that Scott was gone. It couldn’t be. Not when the two of them had only just begun admitting how they felt about each other before Jean's return, approaching at snail's pace, not even daring to put a label on things yet … But they'd been ready to see where this surprising new path would take them, together, before Jean's return had ripped it all to pieces, literally. Just considering that to be true had Logan's hands clench so hard on the handlebars of his – Scott's old – bike that they deformed under his mutation-enhanced strength and he almost skidded off the damn road thanks to the activated hyperspeed. Not good. Maybe Logan only held on to denial in spite of literally just having buried a non-existent corpse, in spite of all eulogies and Ororo's tear-stained looks from her sunken dark eyes whenever they met his, because he had no idea what would happen if he finally moved on to the stage of acceptance. If the animal inside tore loose from its chains in the grief inevitably waiting at the end of that line, Logan's mind blanking out as rage and hate took over, with not even anyone left to vent it on … Logan had a funny idea, then Ororo would be left on her own as Principal for good, at least until Hank would deign to move his arrogant ass back to Mutant High. As long as Logan could possibly prevent such an unhappy outcome, he had to try, somehow. No matter how loud that exasperated voice in the back of his head was, calling him delusional. He'd done stupider things. "Care to tell me what the fuck is so important that you couldn’t tell me on the phone?" he snapped after parking his bike in Stark's impressive garage full of fancy sports cars and admittedly quite pretty bikes, and the elevator had automatically brought him only one floor up to the Tower's cellar. The sickbay, the laboratories, where Hank had spent the last few days for some reason, instead of being in Washington to try and help calm the general mood down as he'd actually said he would when leaving.

"You'll have to see for yourself. You wouldn’t believe me." Hank nodded him along a long sterile hallway, paws clenching and unclenching restlessly in a kind of agitation Logan had rarely seen in this guy before.

"You know that's what they tell the dumb jocks and chicks in the movies before leading them to the slaughterhouse," Logan grumbled, only even more annoyed instead of curious. If this was about some unnecessary new invention of Stark's again, supposed to make the world for mutants easier and in the end probably turning out to be just as much a tool of war and division as that damn Cure, Logan would break some expensive machine on his way out on pure accident.

Or maybe it was a trap; not unlikely either. Stark and Rogers notoriously weren’t huge fans of mutant-kind; probably even less now that whole Phoenix catastrophe.

But since thanks to his healing factor, Logan usually didn’t have a lot to fear from any threat, he finally shrugged and played along, rummaging in his jacket for a cigar, just to annoy his on-and-off-teammate a little about ash and smoke in sterile environments. Logan entirely forgot to light it though when he entered the examination room he was being shown to and was suddenly standing before a huge glass tank filled with transparent fluid in which a human body was floating.

Scott.

He only vaguely noticed from the brief pain in one wrist and the dull thud of metal that his legs had given out under him. The voices of Hank, of Stark and Rogers in the background, of some blonde in a revealing white corset Logan didn’t know, turned to incomprehensible noise, nothing but his rapid breathing, his racing heartbeat echoing in his mind as he stared at the body of his dead partner.

Scott. And he was not dead.

Only when the first shock subsided and Logan's eyes weren’t that clouded by terror anymore, when he remembered how to blink, his mind caught on to the fact that no, contrary to his first panic, he hadn’t been called here because Scott's corpse had finally been found, on display here for sick entertainment for some reason. Logan's instincts, once more, hadn’t been off at all.

The ghostly pale, almost white body, intubated and hooked to IVs and drains through holes in the tank's ceiling, wasn't moving on its own, lazily drifting in whatever fluid that was, but it was breathing. Listening closer, drowning out the voices in the room consciously now, Logan could even make out a very slow, faint heartbeat.

There were some details he couldn’t wrap his head around right away, and he should probably be asking about those to suspend the last of his disbelief … But for a moment, all he could do was gaze at the man he thought he'd never see again with his eyes burning, his body shaking, and send a silent thanks to whoever out there might be responsible for fate for this most unexpected surprise. When a strong paw grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him rudely, Logan almost ran his claws through Hank's guts on pure instinct, but after another few deep breaths, he could somehow get himself together and push himself back to his feet. It took a lot of self-composure not to immediately hurry over to that tank, up the metal stairs leading to the top, just to try and touch the man inside, just to go sure. First, he needed details. "You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on, McCoy?"

"We've been trying for five minutes," Rogers from his silent corner answered dryly, arms crossed in front of his ridiculously broad chest. With his usual wing mask pulled back from his face, the Avengers' leader looked remarkably pale himself, his square jaw set tight as he regarded that tank with not half as much joy as Logan, which immediately provoked the wish in Logan to get over there and shove boy scout out of the room. That Scott and Steve had never been exactly friends was no secret in the world of the enhanced, and Scott wasn’t in any position to fight a possible attack right now.

Well, that was what Logan was here for. "Not sure I need to hear anything from you, flag boy. Hank?"

"Much as it pains me to say, you should show our hosts a bit of politeness for once," Hank answered with an askew smile. "It was them, and our friend Emma Frost over there, who received the request to attempt this experiment. It was part of Charles' will, drafted right before his death. He knew there was a very real chance he wouldn’t survive when Erik and he set out to stop Phoenix. The letter he wrote for Ororo and you wasn’t the only one. He knew Stark is the only person not stopped by legal or moral boundaries with the technical means to achieve what Charles had in mind, and Rogers as team leader had to sign the whole deal off. Grudgingly, I might add. Steve doesn’t have a high opinion on illegal laboratory experiments from personal experience. But in the end, we all decided together that Phoenix was an extraordinary force no one could have seen coming or had a chance to fight, and that people Jean unwillingly has on her conscience should get a second chance if possible."

"Is there any way I can make you get to the point before sunrise, King Kong?" Logan wearily rubbed his eyes, trying his best not to let all those formalities and details get to him that he couldn't be caring about any less right now. Sure, that something was shady about this whole thing had been clear the moment Stark's security had patted him down for cameras outside. And if what Hank was implying was true – and given what Charles had read in Jean's mind about how Scott had died, Logan had to assume, it was –, they better made sure that the how about this whole deal would indeed stay within these walls. Or Scott would end up locked away as a lab rat in some S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. But as far as Logan was concerned, none of that mattered right fucking now. "You telling me I'm looking at a human clone?"

"The technique's been sound for more than a decade," Stark barged in for the first time, a proud grin plain to see twitching under his stupid goatee. "No one's allowed to use it is all. Those who don't give a shit about that are usually working for illegal organ farms or fertility facilities, or doing human experiments, since breeding a fully grown body within weeks in an egg is useless for anything else when you don't have the mind and soul to go with it. That's what we have her for." A fond glance toward the one Hank had called Emma, full of the affection and interest going with a couple of hormones too many, interrupted Stark's usual litany of self-praise.

"I run a school similar to Charles'." The woman brushed back the hood of a white cape she'd drawn deep into her face, apparently sensing Logan's usual apprehension towards strangers, and regarded him with a not-unfriendly but impatient-feeling look before turning back to the tank. "Charles' and my power sets are also similar. We've been working together for decades. I did many things wrong in my youth which is why I'm keeping out of most crises and huge battle these days, to not get tempted again. But when Charles really needed me, he could always count on me, he knew that. When I received his letter, I rushed to the place he described for his own rebirth immediately, but there's no sign of him, at least so far. At this point, there's no telling if we can bring him back. But Tony's been saving the DNA of many other enhanced in his databank for these kinds of cases for a long time. So once Steve approved, he and I turned to a next case we were pretty sure we could succeed with. And for a while, things went well, as you can see." Somehow, Logan didn’t like that limitation in the woman's last sentence, especially with how dejectedly, almost in resignation she raised her hand to the crystal clear glass of the tank, her eyes closing for a moment as she seemed to reach out with her mind to the person inside, only to shudder back both physically and mentally immediately.

Sensing Logan's exploding impatience, Hank grabbed him by the arm before he could ask again, in a far ruder manner this time, and led him away a few steps while Emma visibly tried to recollect herself. "Bringing a mind back postmortem is not a cake run. Usually, when you try, these souls have already left off to … wherever you believe people go when it's time. That's not for us to know at this time. What we do know is that there is a kind of mental limbo between death and that other sphere of existence that many souls rest in, especially when they were ripped from life early. If a patient's soul is there and for how long, no one can tell before a telepath tries to find them. The good news is, Emma found Scott. He's definitely still somewhere around. Emma thinks, Jean had a hand in that. Or well, the part of her that was still her. Jean knew about Charles' emergency plans for such situations and probably wanted to make sure, Scott at least had a chance to come back."

"Still waiting for the but, King Kong." Logan had to physically stop himself from scratching the massive metal lining the walls, or slap one of the people in here over the back of their heads so that someone would finally talk.

"She can't pull him out." Hank's sunken eyes withdrew even further behind their membranes as he turned to the tank, burying his hands deeply in the pockets of his lab coat. "His soul is resisting. Emma keeps on running into setbacks, every time she thinks she has a grasp on him. He slips away, or it's just an illusion, and then he shuts her right back out. She can't clearly communicate with him, his mind is in disarrange. After what happened, not much of a surprise. Emma can't tell if he's just confused and scared which would be an entirely normal reaction or if he doesn’t want to be brought back. And if the latter is the case, Logan … Then we have no right to force him. Not to mention that we probably can't, anyway, even if Rogers was willing to ignore the condition he's made for the procedure to be done. We need to go sure, and soon. You can only keep a fully bred clone without a mind on life support for so long."

"Then stop wasting time." Finally understanding his role in this whole drama, Logan shuddered, his eyes meeting Emma's sharp blue ones as he tried to prepare in vain for the unloved upcoming intrusion of a telepath. Nothing he would usually agree to voluntarily, especially not after Phoenix … But even if this whole thing would go wrong, even if it should indeed turn out that Scott no longer wanted to face a world going down the drain, in which case even Logan would have to accept that … At least he might get the chance to talk to the man he'd come to love for a last time.

Tony, having listened to their conversation sneakily of course, showed a relieved grin, the guy surely happy that such a dubious and doubtlessly costly project maybe wasn’t doomed to fail after all. "I'll have everything set up."

Logan just nodded vaguely, not half as enthusiastic about what was to come. With his arms wrapped around his own body as he suddenly felt freezing cold from the residing shock, he strode back to the tank, swallowing thickly as he beheld the shape inside, this time with the necessary knowledge and rationality. Which didn’t make the humiliating sight of a naked, helpless shape openly on display for everyone entering to see, easier to bear. Not to mention there were still things that seemed simply off about this reproduced body that Logan couldn’t put on the slightly blurred view of the containment fluid, much as he tried. "He looks different."

"He looks remade," Hank corrected him, apparently knowing exactly what Logan's sharp sense of vision was aimed at. "You do realize Scott's team hadn’t only formed right before you came to join them at Liberty Island, right?"

"Meaning?" Logan's impatience with guessing games was at an all-time low.

Hank pinched the bridge of his flat nose with an exasperated sigh. "For two people so madly head over heels for each other, you two made remarkably little effort, looking into each other's files and past. Scott's had hip replacement on both sides before he was even 20, Logan. Either Jean or I relocated his jaw more often than we cared to count. Hardly any of his teeth were his own on the day he died. He's had two ribs missing. 15 percent of his skin was Shi’ar tissue replacement for third-degree burns. Need me to go on? If you look at him and see a changed physique, it's because you haven’t met him before he was orphaned and Charles turned him into a child soldier. And that’s before we take into account, he probably will no longer need his glasses now. Though I would prefer putting them on for safety reasons anyway if we try this whole thing until we know for sure."

Logan had no words left to say for a moment, not even to repeat that they were of course going through with this. That there was no way he wouldn’t at least try to bring Scott back, seeing as he was the only one left close enough to the guy to have a chance at that … But was that really the truth? With Logan apparently never really having shed his shallow belief from the beginning, that before Liberty Island, Scott had never really been in a true war?

Even afterward, he'd never had the impression that his partner was prone to exaggerated physical damage in the field. Scott had always been remarkably fit for his slightly slim stature, fast, athletic, and an excellent hand-to-hand combatant. At least while Logan had been in the field together with the X-Men, he honestly couldn’t remember the guy ever coming home with as much as a sprained ankle.

"What happened that he suddenly stopped throwing himself off every cliff within reach?"

"You happened." Coming to stand behind him, Hank rested his hand heavily on Logan's shoulder, their eyes meeting in the faint reflection of the water, distracting Logan from the frightening sight of one bony, absurdly smooth thigh right before his eyes. "When you became part of us, you became his shield, Logan. And I promise you, none of us ever took that for granted. Even the ones of us not always residing in Westchester, only joining the team when shit hits the fan … We all have a great deal of love and respect for our young Captain here. Devastation among our kind upon learning of his fate runs deep. But that's not even why I called you. The one thing Rogers and I can agree on, the main reason why Steve said yes in spite of his inhibitions, is that Scott never really had a chance for a real life of his own after Charles took him in. He was raised with nothing but the fight ever since he was twelve. If there's anyone who deserves another shot, it's him. Do your best, please. That's all I'm asking you."

"Mean to, McCoy." Logan gave the guy a short, serene nod before pushing his hand away and straightening his posture, gritting his teeth. No use, drawing this out any longer than necessary. "So, where's that Frost woman?"

*****

"He'll try to push you out, to get rid of you." Emma was still preaching by the time she and Logan lay down on the narrow stretchers installed right next to the top of the tank in a haste, while Stark proceeded to open one of the small treatment holes in the solid metal disk covering the tank, for the last necessary step. "Once all of our minds are connected, you'll see things both from his and your and possibly even from my past that his subconsciousness creates to scare intruders off. It's possible he'll believe it isn’t you. You'll have to find a way to convince him. When you encounter other souls waiting in the limbo, ignore them. You don't want to communicate with the dead, Logan. Believe me, it's not worth it."

"And here I was thinking that was the plan," he commented dryly, raising his hand in tired defense when Emma was about to break in another sermon. "I got the idea, Snowflake. McCoy says, time's short, so let's get a move on it." Glad when the woman finally shut up, Logan allowed Hank, albeit reluctantly, to restrain his ankles and right wrist to the damn stretcher with adamantium cuffs of which Logan decided he didn’t even want to know where Stark had them from. None of them was hot on Logan's instincts taking over his mind at the wrong moment in such a mental exceptional situations, and his claws accidentally going through the wrong person within reach. His left arm was encased in a longer, looser shackle to his left, fastened to the tank's lid … And then there was suddenly the alarmingly cool but hauntingly familiar sensation of a well-known hand in his. In a very true sense of the word, it was like touching an empty hull, entirely unmoving, filled by only the faintest rush of blood beneath the surface … But given that Logan had been certain not too long ago he wouldn’t ever feel that touch anymore, he had a new lump in his throat anyway. He refused to turn his head toward that hole in the tank lid because the sight of that freshly crafted body still creeped him out, focusing on Emma instead whose small, thin shape had relaxed deeply into the stretcher's hard surface, her breathing going deep and evenly as she fell into a kind of deep meditation more by the second.

Just when Logan was about to open his mouth to ask, the woman suddenly grabbed his shackled hand without a warning, and Logan's world drowned in darkness.

******

He woke up in the Mutant High. For a moment, Logan was almost tempted to believe, this whole shit had been an especially detailed dream, even worse than his usual nightmares as it had felt so damn real, including getting someone back he'd thought lost … That he might actually be able to do that if he didn’t fuck up again, he only remembered when he sluggishly sat up from where he was curled in a ball in the corner of the living room, and the disorientated greyness of sleep and dampened sleepy condition of his senses didn’t go away. Not a dream. An illusion. His legs felt wobbly when he stood up, as if the floor beneath him was shaking, and after a first tentative step, he realized it was, the wooden boards not only creaking but dented, like mud, with every cautious step. When Logan looked down, he saw that he was barefoot suddenly, and leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the expensive beige carpet though he couldn’t make out any injury on his body. Not that he was having one right now as he had to remind himself repeatedly. Just as little real as the creepily authentic-feeling environment of a building he knew to the last corner and crevice, looking, sounding even smelling the same … except that it was yawningly empty. Remembering Emma's words and suspecting, he wouldn’t be seeing a welcoming committee anytime soon, Logan turned to the door to the garage after a moment of hesitation.

This was where Scott had fled to when he'd needed an hour for himself. To tinker with one of his rides sponsored by Charles over the course of the years, to free his head with something for his hands to do, to make something broken work again, as he had once told Logan. Every now and then that had helped, forgetting how helpless they all were, in spite of all their powers and efforts, against the dangers that mutant world was facing every day and the ongoing bigotry of far too many normal people.

But when Logan opened said door, it wasn’t to dozens of expensive rides. Instead, he was standing in the middle of a battlefield, gunshots going off all around him, the air thick with smoke, blood, and powder, causing his instincts to spring to life instantly. He threw himself behind the cover of the next best huge rock before he'd even really taken in the situation, the flag and uniforms of a hostile country long wiped off the maps, the corpses of a unit he'd once been part of laying all around him, guts out, explosions in the distance decimating the rest of the men to zero.

Except one.

When Logan retched and turned away from a scene he'd never seen in such detail in his dreams, reminding himself arduously that none of this was real, none of this could hurt him, he realized he wasn’t alone in his hiding spot.

Kneeling before him on the blood-soaked ground was one of his arch enemies although Logan needed to look twice to recognize that much sharper-looking face without hip-length, unkempt hair and filthy fur clothes. Creed's eyes were the same though, filled with perverted lust for killing, torture, and human flesh, his uniform red all over from blood that wasn’t his, his claws deeply in the neck of the guy he'd buried himself in, lost in his perverted urges for fast, sadistic satisfaction. His canines, too, were dripping with blood as he looked up to grin broadly at Logan, winking at him playfully without ever stopping what he was doing. "Gonna join the fun or what, Jimmy? Offensive's a bust anyway. Time to have some fun."

That voice, never exactly pleasant for the ears even in real life, was screeching like nails on a chalkboard, reminding Logan more effectively than any warning earlier that all he encountered in here was part of some mind in shambles, and it probably didn’t matter much if it was his own or the dying, trapped one he'd set out to find. These new splatter images just planted into his memory along with a whole bunch of new intrusive fears and self-loathing, he could think about when he'd finished the damn mission. Before he wordlessly left, he cut off Creed's ugly head with his claws anyway. Just on principle.

The violent act of defiance seemed to attract attention. After Logan's next blink, he was back in the living room, and this time, not alone. Only it wasn’t the lively chatter and laughter of dozens of enhanced fleas around him, brightening even his worst days in a way he'd never expected it, moving into this damn house back then. Perched on the ground, on the sofas, the windowsills, were unmoving, ghostly silhouettes, none of which he knew. Some looked almost like wax figures, their skin shining in the nearly entirely desaturated colors of the surroundings, some showed the often terrible wounds they had died from. None of them were breathing but all of them were alive in this weird, ghostly way of existence that this place of dread only offered.

When Logan made a hesitative step towards the stairs, to continue his search, a little girl with a high forehead, long brunette braids, and eyes somehow looking creepily familiar came to stand in his way, a doll with a broken face in her hand, her eyes empty like from a 70-year-old veteran. "You can't go up there! No one is allowed up there!"

Logan tried to ignore the creepy phenomenon like he'd been advised, going around it only to find the damn thing had moved like ghosts obviously did and was right in his path again, baring worryingly sharp teeth at him. "Yeah, well, I'm not like other people, kiddo." He made another useless attempt of sneaking by the girl, wincing at the sound of his own, also far too gravelly voice, sounding like coming from some scratchy LP played too slow. He was just as little real as everything else in here; he should better not forget that. Which hopefully meant, the same non-existent rules of nature applied to him. Taking a deep breath, bracing himself, Logan sprinted off, running right through the girl. He thought to taste copper in his mouth for a moment, all his insides clenching at the sensation of being penetrated thoroughly by something he couldn’t even identify, his brain flooded with a whole heap of memories that weren’t his own. He had to hold on to the stair railing, panting … When he opened his eyes again, he was certain, that damn thing must be gone now.

Instead, the girl was two steps above him now, grinning at him menacingly. Blood slowly began to drip from her lips, her ears, her eyes, soaking her stained shirt and jeans, but she was still smiling, obviously delighting in Logan's growing shock. Under his disbelieving sight, two long claws of bones on each side started to emerge from her hands as she crouched down in a position before him that he also knew damn well, about to pounce.

Suddenly, Logan had to fear he wasn’t half as immune to such an attack as he'd thought, not with how frozen he suddenly was in place …

"Laura! That's enough. He's a friendly."

In spite of the kid grudgingly disappearing immediately, Logan was still entirely unable to move a single muscle, his blood ice cold in his veins from one second to another. This voice, he would have recognized in a million after just one syllable. "Jean." This was the cruelest illusion of them all, so much worse than any blood and violence that had been haunting him all his life anyway. This was what he'd really dreaded, agreeing to this whole thing, knowing how likely he was, he'd stumble into memories of this kind in Scott's mind and at a loss how to deal with it, just days after Jean's death …

"Logan. Look at me." She was closer now, but still at a respectable distance to his claws, and Logan suddenly realized, her voice wasn’t distorted and screeching.

The scent of her rose perfume hit his nose and promptly brought tears to his eyes. This was the last thing he'd sensed of her as she had died in his arms. When he had killed her.

"You didn’t. You saved me." That pleading gentleness in her warm, deep voice finally enough to get through to him, make him turn around on shaking knees, Jean smiled at him gently, every bit the flawless beauty as which he'd been allowed to behold her just for a few minutes at a stretch upon her last return, whenever that out of control side of her hadn’t prevailed.

She'd still been somewhere in there, under all that madness and lust for destruction; he'd known that the whole time. If only he'd tried just a little harder …

"Logan, you got it all wrong." Even now, in a place that didn’t even really exist, she could still easily read his mind … And all of a sudden, as she stepped closer, every bit as graceful with her floating, fiery hair, her tight green dress, Logan was certain that this was definitely real. Jean nodded softly, a small smile on her beautiful lips. "I'm neither a memory nor an illusion. I'm much like them." She nodded at the ghostly shapes in the distance that were no longer a threat, obviously having a great deal of respect for her for some reason. "I'm not sure for long I'll be here. I still need a while to make peace with all that happened. But I only can do that because you had the strength to end it that day, Logan. I will never forget that." Close enough now for him to feel her warmth, encasing his non-body in this eerie place like a wool blanket, Jean reached up to softly wipe the tears from under his eyes, from his beard, a look of so much honest affection in her dark eyes that it broke his heart all over. "You need to stop blaming yourself. Nothing you could have done, or anyone else, could have changed the outcome of this. Charles didn’t know this but he was wrong about me. I wasn’t schizophrenic, Logan. I was possessed. By a cosmic force that none of you could recognize when you encountered it. One that fortunately died with me before it could really emerge. If it would have, it would have torn the whole universe to pieces. It's only thanks to you that didn’t happen." The grip of her hand on the back of his neck tightening, Jean shyly pulled him in, remembering only too well what had happened the last time they'd been this close.

But that had been another person, nothing of what Jean had really been like in life, and Logan's feelings for Scott weren’t in the way of how much he'd also cared about this woman back then either. The three of them had long stopped trading on such outdated moral boundaries. When their lips met, a bit of color seemed to seep back into the world around him, his thoughts finally no longer that clouded. Suddenly he was a hundred percent sure where he would find the person he was looking for, and he still had to hurry the fuck up. But one thing, he still needed to know. "Jeannie …" Grabbing her thin shoulders as she tried to turn away with a satisfied nod, having fulfilled what she'd come for, he fought the new lump in his throat in vain, trying to put all into words into seconds he'd never been able to tell her when she'd been alive. Maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe she knew, now that she seemed to know everything going on in the world of both the dead and the living. And then, even more so, he needed her to tell him something, or he would wonder all his life. "If this works, Jeannie … Can we bring you back, too? You're a telepath, you can find your way back alone …"

"Any body I would slip back into, Dark Phoenix would already be waiting in for me," Jean answered, choked, wiping her eyes in the same deeply rooted sadness and longing that probably kept her here still. "I can't risk all life for a single one, Logan. But you can be sure, I will keep a close eye on all of you, especially on you two." She pointed her chin up towards the first floor with a tender smile. "You'll take care of him for me, right? That's all I ask of you."

"Always, Red. I'll see you. One day." No longer bothering to fight his tears, Logan pulled her hand close for a last fleeting kiss on it before forcing himself to turn away from this hopefully last, the hardest meeting in this damn ghost house.

****

Scott was waiting for him in the same place, the same hunched position that Logan had found him so often in back then before his death. On what had once been Jean's and his bed, staring dully to the ground, haggard and pale, entirely absent from the world, long before he'd been forced to leave it. And just one time too many, Logan hadn’t tried hard enough to break this dangerous cycle of depression and grief back then, failing to stop his lover from basically throwing himself at Dark Phoenix' feet.

Not this time. "Hey, Slim." Never hesitating for a second, he knelt down on the floor in front Scott, closing his hands around that stubbly, hollowed face, lifting it until he could be sure Scott was at least vaguely aware of him. "Time to go home."

"Been trying." Scott's choked, far too quiet voice didn’t sound like he was seriously aware of a living presence in this shambled world of his, more like he was talking to himself. Or to an image of someone he'd love to have by his side right now, the latter sparking at least the smallest bit of hope in Logan's soul that he wasn’t being too late yet.

"They won't let me. I got nothing left with the living. So why won't they let me find the light, Logan? Every time I see it, it's gone before I can get there."

"That's because that's not where your home is. Not yet." Logan gently brushed the hair from Scott's face, to take a look at his glasses, not surprised that he failed to see any smallest flash of red behind them. "Let me take these off for you, bub."

A surprising, almost violent jerk of energy went through Scott's lethetic body, his most deeply rooted fears still just as real as in his first life. "Don't!"

"It's fine, Slim. Look at me. It's alright. Your blasts are gone. You can control them now." Logan gently held Scott's wrists tight, glad that his lover didn’t pull away, not just vanishing under his grip like ghosts usually did. This was just as real as his last talk a minute ago. And he'd be damned if he'd leave this conversation partner behind, too.

Something clenched painfully in his heart when Scott let out a cynical, deeply hurt laugh. "The last time someone I loved told me that, I was ripped to particles a minute later."

"That wasn’t Jean. It was something that had taken hold of her. You know Jean would never have done that to you, Slim. She loved you more than anything." Logan took a choked breath, bracing himself against possible disbelief, hostility even, at the sound of something he'd never been able to bring himself to say before, a neglect he might be bitterly regretting in a second. "Just like I do."

"You …?" Scott stared at him in visible shock but at least looking more there than he'd been in all these weeks before leaving for Alkali Lake back then, in spite of all of Logan's efforts to reach out to him. This time, when Logan carefully pulled the glasses away from Scott's face, he didn’t startle back. A beautiful sky-blue was staring back at Logan, wide with grief and confusion and pain … and suddenly, the longer they were fixed at him, with just a hint of understanding and hope. "You … Are you real? Are you here? For me?"

"What do you think? That I'd battle demons and play haunted house because I'm bored, instead of watching some game over a six-pack on a Friday night?" Logan threw Scott a crooked smile but quickly turned serious again, resting his hand on his lover's cheek again with tender circling fingertips on his temple which had helped Scott's frequent headaches back then so often, relieved to see Scott's eyelids flutter in beginning relaxation as if not a day had passed since then … And just like that, Logan knew what to do. "We had our first date in the Danger Room, a month after Alkali Lake. You kept on running into my claws because you were all over the place, and I had to stitch you up. We had a beer in the pool of your blood, we toasted to Jeannie, and then you cried on my uniform for half an hour. You deleted the record afterward, by the way, in case your obsessive brain is trying to convince you I'm someone else right now."

Scott shook himself a little, starting to look clearer by the second, his posture straightening, yet there was a distraught frown on his face as he looked around the room, his breathing promptly going too fast and uneven. "I … I don't … What …? Logan, what are you doing here in the Further? This is no place for you, you need to go …"

"Not without you, bub." Two knuckles firmly on his chin, Logan turned Scott's head back to him, seeking his gaze once more and never letting go of it. "I promised you, remember? When we kissed for the first time, on loungers under that swanky Ford Probe of yours. Starter was a bust. You needed something to fix after two of the teenagers were almost shot to death by bigots in the city. We were both covered in motor oil and you were crying again. I told you that day, you're no longer alone in all this shit and that I'm not going anywhere. I'm holding to that, Scott." Logan's thumb softly grazed Scott's far too-dry lower lip, brushing away the salt from his cheeks just like he had back then. "Phoenix is defeated, and most of us are still up and fighting. You have a lot left to live for, and someone who doesn’t want to live without you. I know how much you're hurting and I will do all I can to help you with that. But you have to let me. You have to trust me one more time. Think you can do that?"

Finally, Scott nuzzled firmly into that touch on his face, the last of his tears starting to dry on his skin. For the first time in what felt like months, Logan saw the shadow of a smile curl on his pretty lips. "I never stopped trusting you, Logan."

Relief flooding his soul, Logan reached out and pulled his lover in his arms, clumsily, with a jerk, pulling him right on top of him just to wrap his arms around him tightly, Scott's surprised, breathless chuckle in his ear. His eyes falling close, he suddenly found with a hint of a bad conscience that he had no real idea how they should get out of here, now that he'd found his target. Frost had probably told him but with his attention span not exactly being the greatest earlier … Before he could follow that trail of thought any further, his mind short-circuited a second time within an hour.

******

"Take it easy, Summers. Easy! Calm, deep breaths. I know that hurts like a bitch. Give your muscles a minute, they're new to this whole deal. That's it, just keep breathing. We got you …"

Logan awoke with what felt like probably the first damn hangover of his life, all his muscles stiff from a thrashing against his restraints that he couldn’t remember, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth, and the mother of all headaches behind his eyes. But he also awoke to the sight of Hank and Steve pulling out a certain reborn body from that damn medical tank, still snow-white and far too thin and covered in a sickening layer of drugs … But, far more importantly, underneath, carrying the grounded, familiar scent Logan had once fallen in love with, and moving on its own. "Frost?" He barely dared to ask, absolutely convinced for a moment after all these days of grief and the losses that the X-Men had suffered in the last crisis, that there was no way this could have really worked out, that it was probably just muscle spasms he was seeing, and that Stark would just shoot that zombified body right back into pieces in a second before it could harm anyone …

A small female hand, trembling from the effort of the job and weak still, came to rest on the wrist it had just freed from the last hackle, giving his hand a long, amicable squeeze. "Great job, Logan."

Only at the mention of his name, this instinctive, panicked struggling of the cloned body suddenly stopped, Scott's bare shape, still dripping sterile fluid, sinking onto a third stretcher next to them without resistance now, discreetly covered at last by a blanket Hank had brought, the patient's raspy breathing gradually slowing down. "Logan?"

"'m here." Weakly scooting over to the other stretcher that Emma had been nice enough to leave, feeling battered both in body and mind but happier than on any damn day since Alkali Lake, Logan bent over his lover, with his face firmly buried against Scott's neck, a strangled sob in his throat when he could feel that pulse against his cheek there finally going steady and strong.

A little too fast, even, when Scott tried to wrap his arm around him in return with muscles that would only have to learn again how to move right. At least turning his head to press his lips to Logan's ear, he managed, murmuring a hoarse, whispered thanks that wouldn’t have been necessary. "You came for me."

"Always, Slim. Told ya. To hell and back." Logan straightened up again to capture his lover's lips in a tender, long kiss before resting his head on that bony chest for long, precious minutes of an intimacy he'd thought never be allowed to feel again. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy before.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

[the-offside-rule]

George Russell - Perfect

Requested: yes

Prompt: Perfect - Ed Sheeran

Warnings: none

You held your head in your hands as you watched George lie down in the grass. His first points was something you thought you'd celebrate but they were forgotten about because George actually had a chance to not only get points, but also win so he obviously didn't want to celebrate. You decided to walk out back and look for him and surely enough you did. He sat up panting and drenched in sweat, looking absolutely gutted. "George?" George looked up when he heard your voice and smiled softly. He walked over to you and whispered into your ear. "Darling, I need to go somewhere where no-one else is." You nodded and walked back with him to his driver room.

You sat down on the sofa and watched him as he scurried around the room putting his stuff away. "Are you doing alright?" you asked. George huffed. "No but what can I do?" He said making his life form into a flat line almost. "You can stop blaming yourself for one." you piped up. "It wasn't your fault you had to pit three times." George walked back over to you and sat down beside you. "But I let everyone down." You're heart was aching for him as he blamed himself for everything that went wrong. "George, its alright. Its not the end of the world. You'll get other opportunities for podiums." George lay his head down on your lap and looked up to you. "I don't know. If I gave a performance like that, why would any team want me?" Okay, this was kind of getting annoying now.

You grabbed your phone and turned on Spotify, looking for one of George's favourite songs. "Here we go." You smiled looking at the song "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran. "Right, bare with me for one second." Saying that George was confused was understatement. He really hadn't a clue. You grabbed his Mercedes jacket and threw it on over your shoulders and tidied your hair into the cap too before you sauntered over to George and sat next to him. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked. "Sorry about my friend. He tends to tell everybody that I'm a driver. I think it's to make himself look better or something." you said in your best George voice. George looked confused but realised quickly that it was probably one of the very first things he ever said to you. You were going to recreate the night you first met. "But yeah, I just finished Silverstone today. Great track. Didn't do too well but hey, gotta take it one race at a time." George grinned at the impression. "Are you seriously doing this?" You nodded. "Love this song. Don't you? It's a banger."

"Yeah, it's alright. Don't know why they're playing it." George responded, reciting the very words you had said the night you met. "Dunno either. How about we go and dance?" George pretended he had long hair and pushed the invisible strand behind his ear. "I can't dance and besides, I don't know who you are." he said. You broke character slightly by his actions but quickly jumped back in. "I'm George Russell, ART driver for 2018." you said shaking his hand. "Y/n Y/l/n, student for....2018." George replied. "Now how about that dance?" You and George stood up and began swaying from side to side along with the music. You didn't speak a single word, you just danced hand in hand living in the moment. The song ended and you both sat back down. "So can I get your number?" you asked. "You've already got it you muppet!" George laughed. "Stick to the script!" you said. "Oh right, I don't know. Will I get a date out of it?" George asked. You smirked. "You'll be getting a date either way."

"And scene." George laughed. "What an actress." He said clapping his hands. "Why thank you and I hope you don't mind but I'm going to keep this jacket because, damn it suits me." George chuckled at you. "You always make the situation better, don't you?" His eyes locked with yours as you were stuck in a loving gaze. "I tend to have that affect on people, especially you." you replied leaning your chin on the palm of your hand. "Well I love you for it and don't ever change, for my sake anyway." Your heart skipped a few beats whenever he told you he loved you so now wasn't any different. George began to close the gap between your lips when a knock came from the door, interrupting thee beautiful moment. "George? Ready for interviews now?" The Mercedes PR officer called in. George groaned and turned back to youu apologetically as if he was already saying sorry for having to go. "Well go on. I'm not going anywhere." you told him. George smiled and pecked your lips softly. "I'm counting on it. I'll see you later then." and with that he walked out of his driver room and went out to do his media stuff.

[gqteach]

Surprising no one, I did not update this blog over the summer. But I did teach the teachers, and it was good. I had several thank me and a couple more try to crash my class because they wanted to see "Trans Students 101" instead of whatever they'd been assigned. I'm also going to a conference in a couple weeks to teach the panel to a variety of teachers (and university faculty) from around the Midwest, so that's pretty exciting. Every single time I get to stand in front of people and teach these things, it feels like a major win.

I have a new job now, as a Special Ed Teacher! I am at a much smaller staff (and school) than before, and I think I know almost every adult at this point. A lot of the other teachers, especially the new hires, are also neurodivergent and queer. They're all super sweet and supportive, and so is the old guard. My principal is a bit brusque by times, but I get the impression that it's just a "way he speaks" thing, because every time we talk, he's very warm and helpful. I have high hopes for the year.

I also immediately got clocked as neurodivergent by the school's SpEd cause manager. Apparently I remind him a lot of his Autistic, ADHD son. I don't have proper documentation, but I am making a concerted effort to self-advocate and make this job more accessible. Part of that is I'm just trying to get everything in writing, because then I have something concrete to reference at any given time. According to my psych, I don't actually have a bad memory, my memory stores too much information at any given time which means accessing the actual stuff I need is nigh impossible by times. So, writing. I'm also asking like, a million questions, because Clear Communication and Understanding. I don't want to repeat the past two years' experience.

Teachers got our end of (last) year evals, and honestly, I haven't checked mine. I'm too anxious, even though I know what it's going to be. The real question is whether I fight it, or if I just take it and try extra hard these next two years. My mentor would encourage me to fight it, but I don't know if I have the energy.

I have an official diagnosis of Persistent Depression now, plus the other stuff we already knew, so I'm working really hard to turn my life around and structure it in a way that's good and healthy for me. It's a lot of hard work, but I have to believe it will be worth it in the end.

They have me teaching Biology and US History. You may recall that I am a math teacher and I honestly have no idea how to teach those other subjects. Luckily, I have very competent co-teachers to help me along there, and I do have one math class that is going absolutely fine. In History, we're talking about Race as a Social Construct, and I'm trying to decide if the kids are ready for the "Gender is also a Social Construct" talk or if it'll just throw them off more.

Students are...teenagers. I have freshmen and sophomores now, and they're all (COVID-caused) socially underdeveloped, so classroom management is a pain and a half. I'd say we're at "getting my pronouns correct half the time" right now, and working on it. I also have a lot more Spanish speakers, so working with the gender-neutral Spanish is an adventure all its own. I'm back to being the first nonbinary person a lot of students have met, and I'm trying to remind myself that there was an adjustment period at my last school, too. This will get easier. Even if I have to tear apart the queerphobic culture brick by brick.

(10/1/2023)

[commander-spaceboy]

*arrives at your acc* I'm here to ask about any DinahWrench headcanons? :D

Omg heyyyyyy

I have SO many!!!!! But i think im gonna focus on how they met and a bit of them developing feelings 4 each other

(Btw you should definitely go ask @1010neveragain about their headcanons for them too, They write Wrench rly well while im more of a dinah person u know?)

- Dinah and Wrench meet for the first time when Dinah goes and races with electra.

-Wrenchs impression of her at first isn’t great per-say, shes sees Dinah as just another Pretty face that Electra’s racing with to keep up appearances.

-Dinah only really meets Wrench in passing before the race. They exchange hellos but she doesn’t really think anything of her from that other than that she’s a bit stoic.

-Dinah and Electra race and it gets called off by Control cause Rusty gets hurt (u know the drill at this point.) But Electra kinda spends the whole time flouting that he’s racing with Dinah.

-Dinah’s isn’t a big fan of the fact that she’s being used as leverage instead of an actual racing partner

-So shes like I’m fed up with all this racing!! I’m done!! By Electra!

-That’s what really piques Wrench’s interest. The fact that she wasn’t okay with just being seen as a pretty face that can be used as revenge.

-Electra’s like whatever!!!! Im gonna go find myself a new sick™️ racing partner that’s deff not gonna crash me (he will but its funny so its okay.)

-Dinahs just kinda left with the components like Well!!

-She doesn’t want to go talk to her girl besties atm cause she’s dealing with a lot and she doesn’t really want to be lectured or told to be a girl boss, she just wants someone to sit and talk to

-And that’s where Wrench comes in.

-Dinah’s left by herself and Wrench approaches her just to have a conversation as like acquaintances

-Wrench learns just by having a normal convo with Dinah that GB recently dumped her, and shes was just tired of being used.

-Dinah finds comfort in being able to just talk to Wrench without anything being expected of her.

-They talk a couple more times between than and the end of the races.

-Electra after the race and his crash deciding that hes going to leave for a while “We are leaving this yard for another, idk how long we are going to be gone for!!” He puts it 2 wrench

-Shes just kinda clicks her tongue at him like sure……..

-She's not going to leave with him. He can go off an be a whiny bitch baby and sulk with the other components for a while but shes got someone she really cares about here in this yard

-Ohhh n cause Electra and his girl squad r gone it forces wrench to rely on people other than the components… aka Electra’s boyfriend Caboose.

-Wrench has never been the biggest fan of him but hes the only one here that she knows and can talk to other than Dinah.

-Bonus points CB is Dinahs bff 5eva

-Wrench is the first one to develop feelings. They spend a lot of time together since Electra and the components aren’t around, and the way that Dinah treats her, the way she talks, the little habits she has that Wrench notices, all of it makes Wrench fall head over heels 4 her.

-Dinah’s pretty and smart and she overthinks things a lot and just needs someone to keep her from going over the edge, and Wrench is that someone.

-Dinah’s still somewhat getting over her last relationship, and will need a bit more time before she would even think about dating. But Wrench is very important to her.

-When she’s ready to finally move on and kinda live her life, she realizes just how important Wrench is to her.

-They don’t get together for a while though cause mutual pining is really funny.

-When they do confess to each other Dinah is a mess, Wrench means a whole lot too her and to find out that she feels like same way about her and has for MONTHS???? Girl.

-They get to have their first kiss after so many pent up emotions, n its soft.

-uhg. You know???? Im so

About them.

[dumbbitchfrommars]

its a journey, not a race. i have to feel this way to move on.

what do i want to gain from telling my sisters about this? or my mum? what could they tell me that would help?

all i truly want to hear is that i should listen to my heart and go back to him. that he really was one of a kind, and that i wont find another like him. but the reality is im still 22, and i havent even met anyone besides him, because i wont let go of him. i dont want to let go of him! i want him back. i want what we had back. i want to feel that kind of love and attraction for someone again. because so far, i havent found a single person who can aggravate and excite me all at once the way he did. that could make me genuinely LAUGH the way he did. that made me feel safe and cared for like he did. ugh. is it true that i felt this way? am i making it all up to feed into my delusions? its so tiring being this way. its like the only thing that would make it end is to simply do it. to actually unblock him, add him, send him a dm, and get to the bottom of it myself. to put my pride aside, and risk rejection, all to hear from him again. to relight that connection. to somehow get the answers that i seek. what answers? that he still wants me? but do i still want him? who even is he, now...? is that what it is? the lack of knowing? i want him to still belong to me, even when i dont want to be together. i have the audacity to think he owes that loyalty to me years after i left him.

i want to know if he still has any kind of feelings for me. do you still think about me as often as i do? does it make you sad? does it make you miss me? does it make you nostalgic, or do you want it back? do you wish things went differently...? do you wonder, maybe, things could be different now, if we tried again?

i wish we could get to know eachother all over again without it feeling wrong. i wish we could start again without feeling like its a mistake. i wish that i was right in thinking you were the one for me all along.

i used to think we'd be together forever. that we'd have kids together.

did you secretly expect us to break up too? or did you want us to be together forever? because somehow i wanted both at once.

well. anyway, the point of all this is this. i still cant get you off my mind. so, you did win. if there was anyone who won, it was always you. you got me, you got the experience of a girlfriend, you had the character development of dating a girl like me. we learnt from eachother but you get to take that knowledge and now find a new girl to charm and love better than you ever did for me. and after all my fighting and anger and resentment, now i cant go a day without remembering you and the amazing love we shared and the memories we have together. ugh. ew. im so sappy and pathetic.

i dont know if it would be satisfying or heartbreaking to know that you still think about me to, or miss me. it would be even more heartbreaking to know you didn't.

i know youre happy now and that makes me happy and proud of you. you honestly might be doing a lot better than me mentally now. thats so impressive. you have a good circle of friends, youre living your best life and having fun and you moved forward instead of backward. that change is so heartwarming for me.

it irritates me that youre a tradie now. did you do that on purpose, cause i find them so hot? do you know how bad that makes me crave you? my body hasnt forgotten the things you did to me... lol. thats fucked up and lowkey weird. we broke up a long time ago and we were still very young.

i wonder how much better youd be now. i wonder how many girls youve slept with now? i hope they were good. my body count went up but for no good reason. they were all terrible and never made me cum. what a waste of my body. another massive regret.

anyway. i wonder how you'd react if you actually knew i felt this way about you. if you read everything i just wrote... would you feel bad for me? or would it spark something in you, a memory, and hope, that maybe its worth trying again. or has too much time passed, and too much has happened between us, that it simply wouldnt make sense anymore?

ive tried and tried to reconnect with old friends from the past. even the ones who i left on good terms with, we just cant seem to click anymore. we changed and outgrew eachother. and they remind me too much of the past, and the pain of grieving that time and that old me is too much, and it makes it too hard to see her anymore.

maybe weve changed so much, and the trust has faded so far, that even if we were to reconnect, wed inevitably lose eachother again anyway. would that hurt more? perhaps its best to leave the memory untouched where it is, and not meddle with what we had, by replacing it with newly failed attempts of rekindling things.

ugh.

i always come back to the same conclusion. and thats good! its consistent, and its healthy, and its right, and it helps me to stay on gods path. but its so exhausting going round in this circle so much. when can i be given a break? when can this addiction end? who is holding onto who at this point? is it venus retrograde? this whole time ive been blaming my emotions on venus. but every now and then i wonder if its him manifesting himself into my mind by thinking about me to.

EXCUSE ME! IF YOU ARE HEARING ME RIGHT NOW, WOULD YOU PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK? I DONT WANT TO IMAGINE YOU ALL HOT AND SWEATY IN YOUR WORK UNIFORM AFTER A DAYS WORK. I DONT LIKE IMAGINING YOU LAUGHING AND MESSING AROUND WITH YOUR FRIENDS. I DONT ENJOY MISSING A PERSON WHO DOESNT EXIST. SO PLEASE STOP THINKING ABOUT ME AND MANIFESTING IN MY MIND! ITS EXHAUSTING. I NEED A BREAK TO FIND SOMETHING REAL AND TANGIBLE, THANKS.

i am so fucking delusional and need professional help. thats all

[spilledkauffie]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably. 

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming. 

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.” 

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again. 

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,”  bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you. 

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”  

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. 

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.” 

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.” 

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive. 

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.” 

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest. 

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it. 

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.” 

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.” 

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear. 

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently. 

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you. 

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled. 

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell. 

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer. 

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back. 

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile. 

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss. 

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

��If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.” 

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”