#maybe I’ll continue it and do one when they are teens then one when they are the age they are in fcc

[dulcewrites]

Mauled Hearts

Aemond has lost an eye, but gained a dragon. He is sure he is slowly losing much of his sanity, but he has gained an equally nutty friend.

I had this small little au idea for what would happen if Myrah came to King’s Landing sooner than she did in Finding Common Cause. It sort of spiraled into me writing this because I’m super curious about that time jump after the driftmark incident. So much happened and it’s a shame we didn’t get it in the show imo. This picks up right after Driftmark. I see Aemond being 11/12 and Myrah is 13

Aemond is late for dinner… again.

Alicent tries not to fixate on the empty seat on the other side of the table. She often had to tell herself nothing was wrong, even when she could feel the eventual doom in the pit of her stomach.

When he didn’t arrive with his sibling, she sent Criston out to find him. She made the rules clear very to all of them. No flying right before or right after dinner. Always, always, tell a guard where you are going to be. She reminds Aemond of this the most. Doing it every morning while she watches the maesters repatch his eye bandages. He grows restless with them by the day. The bandages and the maesters. Opting to redo them as soon as they leave the room.

Alicent just watches. Tongue tingling to say something. Fingers itching as well. She doesn’t know if that is the urge to help her son feel better or the urge to peel her skin from her body. Starting with the fingers till is freyed and left open.

Aemond hates the help he receives. He was always far too precocious for his age. She often thinks he came out of the womb with the world on his shoulders. A difficult birth on her part leading to a haughty attitude passed to him. It’s only compounded since the indecent. He insist on doing things himself as much as possible, despite looking miserable some of the time.

Aegon loudly blows air out of his lips, staring at the meat pies that have yet to be touched. Alicent raises a brow at him, and he raises one back. Defiance and annoyance written on his face.

She can’t help but wonder if that is how she looks everyday. Same melancholy, detached eyes.

It makes her plaster a fake smile on her as the kitchen maids continue to cart out food. The meal was not to start till everyone had arrived; another rule of hers.

The seat next to her is also empty, but she is far more grateful for that. Viserys had locked himself in his room since receiving the raven a week ago.

Rhaenyra and Daemon. Married. Celebrating their newlywed bliss.

He had bitched and moan about it while Alicent tried to hold back a bile helping him change. The nauseous feeling was for serveral different reasons. She always noticed the way Daemon’s eyes trailed people. Daemon Targaryen was a simple man, or at the very least his stunted mind only allowed him to register few emotions on his face. His eyes only computed hatred and toleration; within those two camps came a spectrum of other things under the surface. Anyone less used to watching and observing as Alicent would miss it.

She saw the looks of wanting enacted on Rhaenyra from her uncle.

“I swear it! On the memory of my mother!” Rhaenyra said, and silly Alicent belived it. No wonder everyone lies to her; she makes it so easy for them.

It was only a matter of time before Rhaenyra was another fly in his web. Alicent recognized the lust like she did the hatred.

You don’t hate me because of my father. You hate me because I married your brother. Do you wish you were in my place? Do you wish Rhaenyra was him? Can’t get the acceptance you want from your big brother so you patiently wait for the day that years of gifts and lurking comes to fruition.

Targaryens were terribly funny like that. It would not the most far fetched idea in theory. Daemon viewing Rhaenyra as an extension of Viserys. The way Alicent is always viewed as an extension of her father.

Another no show at dinner. He had the same disgusted response to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s marriage but for different reasons. Otto never hid his distain for Daemon and vice versa. Alicent was envious of them in that regard. Daemon especially. How his emotions were able to ebb and flow freely. No one to tell him he wasn’t valid in them.

She had one moment of anger. A flash of something that burned underneath the surface from the day her mother was buried in the ground, from the moment her stay of King’s Landing became permanent, from the moment she had to lay on her back and have Viserys on top of her. Night after night. Put her body on the line to bear him four children.

She defends herself once, tries to avenge what happened to her son, and she gets whispers of 'mad queen' in court. Somedays, she wants to prove those people right and have their tongues cut out.

But Alicent cannot even pretend to be that cruel. The way others around her cannot pretend to not be that cruel. She immediately apologizes with white hot guilt and shame burning her body while members of her so called family just literally burn everything in their wake. People included.

Lady Rhea dead, Laena dead, then Laenor shortly after. A titled lady and two dragon riders in their own right, all gone. What is to say she and her children will not be next?

"You are not foolish enough to think they have nothing to do with his death, right," her father looked exasperated by her wide eyed look of shock when she learned about Laenor.

Now you see her what she is. What the king's stubbornness has wrought.

She had no comeback when Otto reiterated that same sentiment days ago. No argument for what is the truth. At times, she just wanted to scream at Viserys to wake up. To realize that he is the fucking king; if he does not want his precious daughter in harm's way, he could stop it easily. If he does not want Rhaenyra and Daemon married, he could make it so. If he wanted his daughter to not have bastards or have no one whisper about their parentage, he could have told her to watch herself after the first boy came out just as plain featured as his father. What is stopping Viserys from wielding that power other than his own cowardice? He could have stopped it all the moment before he decided to remarry.

The Mad Queen and the Cowardly King, what a horrid pair they make.

But Alicent has quickly learned that the only time Viserys feels comfortable reminding everyone he is king is often at her expense. And now at the expense of the children he had with her.

On cue, Criston and Aemond stroll into the dining hall.

Aemond cheeks are a bit pink when he finally plops down. Alicent opens her mouth to ask him where the seven hells he’s been, but out of the corner of her eye she sees Criston shake his head slightly. As if to say, we can talk about this later.

They had gotten good at that. Shared looks of communication.

Alicent tries to read between the lines as dinner goes on, but it to no veil as Aemond won’t meet her gaze. Helaena whimsically makes her way through a story about Dreamfyre. By the time dinner is done, Alicent’s interest is far too piqued in what Criston will tell her to even move from her spot.

The kids all give her a kiss goodnight as the evening turns. Before he leans to kiss her on the cheek, Alicent grabs Aemond’s arm softly.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

His face scrunches in a way that Alicent assumes may be painful because of the healing stitches. He looks over at Criston for a moment then back at his mother.

“You look pretty today.”

Alicent almost laughs at the gall of her second boy. Almost.

“Thanks,” she says dryly as he pecks her. The last of the guards take him away to his room.

Alicent by passes the small goblet in front of her, and goes straight for just the wine jug itself. Criston takes a seat at the table, watching as Alicent downs the wine. She knows when she leaves, she will have to go visit Viserys. Make sure is isn’t slumped over his stupid model, like she found him a couple nights ago.

Or gods willing choked on his own vomit.

“So,” Alicent waits for an explanation.

Criston opens his mouth, then closes it. She can tell he is trying to think of the words to say.

“I do not want you to be upset, your grace.”

Alicent rolls her eyes. He’s always brought would the formalities when he had to tell something bad. She wonders what trouble her children have gotten into now.

“Aemond has a friend.”

She blinks surprised. That was not what she was expecting.

“A friend?”

“Hmm,” he chews on lips. “A friend… that is a young lady.”

“What,” she says it far louder than she intended to. Startling even the kitchen help that come to pick up the plates. She lowers her voice once they are alone again. “What?”

“She is innocent and harmless,” Criston warns. “Well, mostly harmless.”

“Mostly,” Alicent voices gets a bit high.

“They read together. One time I caught them collecting butterflies for Helaena which was nice and -“

“Helaena knew too?”

Criston grimaces. It is a look he has been giving her a lot lately. This look of horrible pity but also cautiousness. Like he is expecting another knife related incident to take place at any moment. Had she reach such lows that Criston of all people was worried about another rage filled outburst?

Alicent slumps in her chair. Even while being painfully attentive, she still manages to never get her children. The kids did always have a knack for sneaking around. From the moment they could stand and walk on both legs, they managed to evade her. On one hand, she could chalk it up to childlike curiosity and recklessness. Something was squeezed out of her at a young age. But the other hand, she could not help think it was a omen for her relationship with her kids. No matter how hard she tries, there will always be parts of them out of her reach. Literally and figuratively.

“I also might have heard them chanting things in a language I did not understand. Then damning a girl named Becca.”

Alicent’s face shifts to mortification.

“But she’s a nice girl. A little strange but no one is forcing Aemond to be around her, so he must enjoy her company,” Criston comforts. “I would not let anything happen to him. Not again.”

Alicent swallows thickly. It was a shared guilt that ran through them. She goes over that night daily, sometimes multiple times a day. How she could’ve stopped it from happening the way it did. She knew how much Aemond wanted a dragon. She should’ve been down there with him. It may the Targaryen blood that gives him the ability to fly that behemoth he loves so much, but he is hers. All of them are hers. The fault of that night was lies at the adults’ feet, including Alicent’s

Her, Viserys, Daemon, Rhaenyra, Laenor.

So overcome with humiliation after Viserys called her Aemma, she retreated to her chambers and stayed there with little care for how it may look. That was till she got a frantic knock from Ser Westerling. Before that horrible knock, Criston watched her cry for a moment before leaving her to her own devices. She could tell he wanted to say something in that moment, but did not risk overstepping a boundary.

A boundary that was frankly overstepped the moment she found him in the Godswood with a blade pointed towards his chest. It was overstepped when she overrode her father’s pleas not to, and had Criston sworn to her.

Alicent, an avid reader in her girlhood, read about the bone rattling allegiance knights have to their queens. She often she fears she got the worst of the bunch. Steeped in honor and attentiveness as he is in violence.

To be fair, she is sure she would be prone to burst of vision blurring anger if she had to protect a family like this one.

At least it was something they could understand on a fundamental level - the utter macabre of a lifetime of servitude.

“Who even is this girl?”

Criston’s lips tilt up in a half smile. “Myrah. Myrah Everlane.”

Alicent tries to rack her brain for any memories of meeting people with the last name Everlane. She bustles around so many people daily, it is hard to keep up at times. It sounds vaguely familiar but not a house that she would keep on her radar.

“Well, maybe he can invite her to dinner one night?”

Alicent tries not feel hurt about Aemond not telling her.

“…. Sure you grace…. maybe,” Criston doesn’t look convinced.

How different can this girl be? She’s what? Ten and three at the most.

But then Alicent thinks about herself at that age. Anxious, unsure, and clinging to the only lifeline she had at the time…. A Targaryen of her own. It pains her to think about how her girlhood feels like a distant memory; how court changes young ladies. Suddenly her reservations for Aemond melt away.

Gods help whoever this Myrah is.

———

In a way, Aemond knew it would not work.

Despite all the books he had read about the magic of Old Valyria, and the how Targaryen blood is special, it would be a bust. He could not feel any less god like waking up each morning, and was no skill of ancestors of bloogmages that came before him here to guide.

But it was admittly wildly entertaining watching Myrah take it as seriously as possible. Right down to outfit she decided to wear. Wrapped in deep red, oversized silks she said she took from her mother. Half her of long hair pulled up with various gold hair accessories. Rogue smeared on her lips.

To be honest, she reminded more of the Braavosi and Lysene dancers that would be brought in for special occasions as the castle. More whimsical with girlish frolic than like a powerful maegi ready to do blood sacrifices. Not even the fire in front of them helping her cause.

Though completely in character, Myrah still insisted he be the one to work with the pig’s blood.

“If I get anything on this, my mother will use me as a blood sacrifice. She got this fabric the last time she was in Dorne,” she sniffed, large book in hand. “I still don’t understand why we had to use a pig and not something smaller like the last time.”

Aemond shifted uncomfortably. “Because I said so.”

“Because I said so,” she mocks under her breath. Sighing, she holds out her hand. Do you have your list?”

Aemond fiddles with his pocket before pulling out writing parchment and handing it to Myrah. Her brows shoot up towards her hairline.

“This is quite the list. You added punishments to the names?”

“Many people deserve to suffer and I want to be thorough,” he shrugs. Myrah nods slowly before reading the list outloud.

“Lucerys Rivers - ,” she stops herself tentively. “There was a rumor I heard that their father was… awfully strong.”

Myrah was a lot of things, Aemond thought. Brash was one of them. But brash in the way he appreciated. Not afraid to say the obvious outloud while keeping what she needed to close to the chest. When he tentively brought up wanting to curse those a little closer to him, Myrah nodded, good natured and understanding. Families are tough, and I’ve never cursed a king. It will prove my power.

“Strong and dead.”

“Lucerys Rivers - nothing but eternal suffering and haunted by the ghost of actual Velaryons till his eventual death... being fed to Vhagar. Jacaerys Rivers - burned alive. Rhaenyra Targaryen -,” she pauses again, holding the paper out. “What is that word.”

Aemond squints, even his own handwriting tricking him. “Umm, sharply.”

“Rhaenyra Targaryen - sharply put to question, eyes plucked out one by one. Viserys Targaryen - guilted, tongue chopped off, then pushed down the stairs.”

The last part made Myrah giggle as she handed the paper back to him.

“Alright, let’s do this,” she flips some pages in the book before straightening her book regally. Letting her large eyed flutter shut she begins speaking in Qohorik. Myrah had picked the Low Valyrian dialect quickly. It makes Aemond wonder how she would fair with High Valyrian. It rolls of her tongue smooth like silk. He had noticed how entrance he was till she opened her eyes expectantly, eyes darting to the blood then to the fire.

“Oh,” he realized it was his turned.

He crumbled his enemies list and threw it into the fire. Followed by blood of the pig. It was an ordeal of itself getting it. Sneaking into the kitchen with one of his Valyrian steel blades. Myrah was of course a terrible lookout. Eyes wandering to the tarts sitting out versus the door. Luckily enough, they were only caught by Criston, who gave them a strange look then a resigned sigh before walking Aemond back to his room then Myrah back to hers.

They sit there in silence watching it all get mangled in the fireplace.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Aemond snorts. “Just like the last time.”

Myrah closes the book. “These things take time.”

“Has Becca from back in the Vale been damned to enternal sadness yet,” he challenges.

“No,” she narrows her eyes. Deep pools of amber darkening. “But I expect for my friends to write me any day now about how miserable she is.”

Aemond shrugs, not convinced as his vision was trained on the fire. He used to think something was wrong with him. Guiltily blaming the Hightower in him. That is must’ve done something to the Targaryen blood. But really, he is just unlucky.

He is not God like his ancestors said Targaryens were. He is terribly mortal. A one-eyed mortal. Fake blood magic or not.

“I need to make sure I’m not late for dinner again,” he says abruptly, suddently feeling that familiar pit of sadness in his gut

Myrah frowns a bit. “What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything was wrong?”

“You have that dopey, awful look on your face.”

Aemond looks over at her with the best glare he can muster. Myrah’s face doesn’t change, a serene calmness marrying her face. He hates how everyone looks at him these days. Sympathy or… disgust. It makes him hate leaving his room. But Myrah just looks through him, as if she never notices the bandages that cover have his face.

“I overheard some people speaking about my eye,” he mutters, embarrassed.

Something flashes behind Myrah’s eyes. “Fuck them. Fuck court and fuck King’s Landing too.”

Aemond is a bit taken a back by her choice of words, but he had heard the sentiment before. The luster of the Red Keep worn off quickly with Myrah. Finding the politicking and fakeness nauseating.

“I was so excited to come here, and now I’d take the Vale with all its sheep and mountains and windchill over this place. There’s no Lady Tyrell asking my parents where they are really from or stuffy old people who have nothing better to do than talk about other’s wealth or lack thereof.” She takes a deep breath after her spiel. “Whether you have one eye, or both. Or you’re missing any other limbs, you’re still Aemond Targaryen. Prince of the realm and rider of the largest dragon in the world. If anyone makes fun of you, that says more about them than it ever will about you.”

She pauses for a moment.

“And when in doubt you can just feed them to Vhagar.”

Well… she’s not wrong about that.

Myrah leaves him with the pep talk, and then a squeeze of the hand. He hopes it wasn’t sweaty when she did. He tries not to meet Criston’s gaze as they walk to dinner.

“Did you have fun?”

All Aemond can do is hum nonchalantly. Not trusting his voice, or the uneven way his heart beats.

[wandaslittlelove]

Forever?

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Warnings: A little angst

Flashbacks

After the last trial which had involved a lot of singing everyone had decided to rest. Your head lay in Rio’s lap as she softly petted your hair. It had been so long since the both of you had gotten the chance to rest with constantly having to collect souls and giving the gift of life. Rio being death meant she didn’t need to rest or breath or even eat but she still occasionally did those things. But with you being life you had to do many things mortals did. Given you did not have to do it often.

Across from you both Agatha sat watching silently. It had been a long time since she last saw you both. The last time she had seen you both was centuries ago. It wasn’t long after Rio had to take Nicky. You had wanted to apologize and tell her how he was doing.

“Aggie” You whispered as you stood behind her. Rio was a couple steps behind you. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to go well.

“Why are you here” Agatha spoke with a venom in her voice that you had never heard before. You shift awkwardly.

“Nicky he-” You were cut off by a sting on your cheek. Bringing your hand up you looked at her in shock. Rio stepped forward protectively. She may love Agatha but the bond the two of you shared was something special.

“Don’t you ever speak his name again. If I could kill you I would. I hate you. Both of you.” Her words were laced with venom as she spoke. It felt like knives burying themselves into your chest every time she spoke. “I don’t know why I ever loved you” With that she walked away. Leaving you standing there as Rio held onto you. You knew she was hurt too.

Now watching the both of you she couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. You both looked peaceful in each other's embrace. Something she had envied when the three of you were together. The both of you had loved her deeply and never made her feel left out but she knew that you both would always have a bond she wasn’t a part of. Bound together by great forces.

Glancing back she watches as you stir slightly and Rio whispers soft words to you. Your powers were a mysterious thing. You could create life. You watched over everything living and got to hear the dreams of others. You could see people's paths but you were never able to interfere. With your powers came a price though. Nightmares plagued you constantly. You could never rest peacefully.

Her eyes drift from you up to Rio who was still whispering to you. Although Rio was death she was quite soft with you and her when they were together. Rio often had a hard time sympathizing with others. She had been the one to take Nicky's soul and lead him to the afterlife. Had been the one to take him while she was sleeping.

Her gaze quickly flew away from you both when Rio had looked up at her but after a few seconds her gaze drifted back. Rio was still looking at her as her hand continued sliding through your hair. You laid still. Your eyes shut as you curled into Rio.

“How long are you back?” Agatha asked as she brushed the hair out of your face. You were laying in her lap as the three of you sat in the forest.

“Only a couple days. Maybe less” Rio answered. There was no telling how long you both could stay but the three of you always hoped it would be long enough. Agatha’s hand fell to your side as she pulled you closer, her other hand reaching out for Rio who gladly took it and leaned into her side.

“I love you” She whispered to the both of you as she let herself relax in your presence.

“I love you” Rio whispered as you know had your eyes open looking up at her. Agatha watched the interaction. How Rio gave you a real smile and how you reached out for her. Her gaze falls over to Teen who was resting peacefully on the makeshift bed. He almost died today. Her smile falters.

“If you do this I’ll hate you forever. Please my loves” Agatha cried as she leaned against the tree all sweaty. You could feel her baby slowly slipping away. The life and warmth of him is fading. You watched as Agatha’s eyes found yours “Please”

She looked at you both again. She wanted to be over there with you both. Joining in on the whispered words and feeling both of your embraces but she wouldn’t let herself. Her heart is aching for the both of you but her mind is still filled with hatred.

“Nicky?!” Agatha called out desperately into the woods as she chased after him. She stopped though when she saw the sight in front of her.

You were kneeled down as you inspected a wound on his knee. She watched the golden light slip from your fingers onto him and then his wound was gone. She watched as he went to thank you but instead let out a loud cough. Looking up she saw Rio behind a tree and suddenly she felt sick.

“Nicky come on” She shouted, making herself known. Nicky quickly ran over to her and grabbed her hand while apologizing for running away. She looked back at you and watched your eyes light up as you looked at her. It had been years since the three of you last saw each other. Agatha constantly avoided the both of you any way she could. You opened your mouth to speak but Agatha turned away and started walking.

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat the second you looked at her. So many memories were coming back full force and she could feel her walls tumbling. Without thinking she stood and made her way towards you both. There were no words as she dropped in front of you both. No words as she brought both of you into a tight hug. When the three of you pulled away her hands rested on both your faces.

“I'm so sorry. I love you”

“I’m so sorry. I love you” Agatha whimpered as she reached out for the both of you. You both stood frozen as you stared at her stomach. You could feel another life inside of her. You and Rio were only gone for a month and she had-

“My love’s please it was an accident” She went to reach out for you but Rio stepped in between you both. She was hurt. How could Agatha do this?

“Please forgive me” She cried.

“Please forgive me” She whispered as she held onto the both of you tightly. In a flash you had thrown yourself into the witches arms as tears began rolling down your face. Her arms were quick to wrap around you as she held you close. Glancing up at Rio she watched as she hesitated before nodding.

“I love you. I love you” She cried. The other witches had all woken up by now and were shocked at the sight in front of them. “I want you both forever” Her hands cradled your face as she kissed you. Once the both of you pulled away she pulled Rio into a kiss.

“We’ll be together forever right?” you spoke into the quiet of the night. Your back was resting against Agatha’s front and Rio was leaning into her side.

“Forever. And when I die I’ll be both of yours for eternity” Agatha whispered as she held both of you. Rio chuckled at her words and cuddled further into her.

Forever Agatha thought as she looked at the both of you.

[pucksandpower]

Prove Them Wrong

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong

Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶

The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.

You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.

Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?

You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.

He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”

You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”

You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.

“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.

Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”

You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”

***

In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.

The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.

Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.

As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.

You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.

Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”

You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”

Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.

“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”

The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.

Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”

You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”

You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”

“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.

You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.

After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.

Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.

You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”

Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”

At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.

Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.

Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.

You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.

“Charles, you don’t have to ...”

He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”

You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”

You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”

Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.

“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.

Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.

“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”

Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.

“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”

Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.

Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”

The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.

As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.

You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”

***

The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.

You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”

Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”

“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.

Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.

“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”

Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”

You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”

You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”

He chuckles. “Once or twice.”

You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.

Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.

Until the phone call comes.

You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.

After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”

You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.

“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”

You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”

“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”

Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.

“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”

Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.

“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”

You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.

When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.

“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.

“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”

You stare at him. “What? Why?”

His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”

Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”

And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.

You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.

When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.

As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.

“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.

You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.

“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”

Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.

As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”

Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”

“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”

“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.

“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”

Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.

Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”

He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

[mywritersmind]

THREE DAYS. TWO CONFESSIONS. - KA12

summary : A pair of flirty teens with rich parents and talent running through their blood. In three days of running into eachother in black and red, the pair seem to come to the conclusion that maybe their jokes aren’t too far off from the truth.

listen up : suggestive jokes. dual pov!! mutual pining! banter! kimixbearman!reader. idk apparently i have a thing for wrong kimi x photographers

word count : 3740

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m staring at him.

He’s talking to an engineer from Mercedes, leaning against a table with his arms braced against it. Fuck his arms. Tan and veiny, gripping the table.

His curls bounce as he nods, his jaw moving as his words meet the open air. I bring my camera up to my face, peering through and snapping one shot. One for myself.

One of him.

Kimi turns his head when I take the photo, the confused look on his face changing, the corner of his lip quirking upwards.

He excuses himself, walking over to me while slipping his hands into his pockets, “Antonelli.” I nod.

“Bella.” He says it as if it’s any other word, yet the weight of it hangs above me like a knife.

He’s called me ‘Bella’ ever since I caught him talking to his friend in italian two years ago. He was explaining who was in the group photo we took at Prema and he said, “The pretty one to the left is Y/n.”

In the moment, my heart did a funny flip, but I played it off and am now stuck with him calling me ‘Pretty’ in his favorite romantic language.

“Saw your face when Lewis radioed.” I fake a frown, “Don't want the car anymore?”

He stays calm and collected, his accent hitting me once again, “It’s like you don’t want to see me every weekend next year.” He frowns, “I know you better than that.”

I cross my arms, looking up at him, “Do you?”

“If I wasn’t there, who would you bully?”

A small smile breaks my cool exterior, “True. My brother isn’t as easy as you.”

He bites his lip, shaking his head, “Ollie is a project for both of us to bug.”

⋆༺

I’m in the Ferrari garage for the majority of the day, practice going smoothly and my day getting increasingly boring.

I end up walking over to Ollie as he gets out of his car, “My speedy brother!” I smile as he pulls his helmet off, the same grin he has everytime he gets out of a car.

“My snappy sister.” He greets me as I raise a brow. “Oh! Later today I'm going over to Kimi’s room so I can’t get dinner with you…” I frown, “Sorry! Guys night. Jack too.”

I cross my arms, “How are the three of you already pissing me off and your season hasn’t started yet?” Ollie just laughs and shrugs, leaving me in the pitlane.

I continue my walk, taking some more photos even though I'm technically supposed to focus on Ferrari pics. I see Kimi in the Mercedes garage, talking animatedly with Lewis.

I pull myself away because too many times I’ve gotten caught looking at him.

I continue my walk to see Jack Doohan standing alone, “Jack!” I smile as I approach him.

He grins a toothy smile, “Y/n! Long time no see!”

“Shit, yeah! How’ve you been?”

“Great! This weather is worrying me though.” I look up to the blue skies, frowning, “I have a feeling.” Jack and his ‘feelings’ are well known in the paddock.

“Well, if it does rain i’m calling for a singing in the rain moment!”

“I’m thinking more of Tom Holland and an umbrella.” I let out a loud laugh, reaching out to touch his arm.

“I’m so in! I can definitely find a black wig and leather.” He shakes his head, his gaze flicking past me.

I turn instinctively. Kimi is looking at us, his face blank but soon turns into a soft smile and a wave. Jack waves back but Kimi doesn’t look at me, just walks back into the garage.

I make a face, turning back to Jack, “Weird.” He laughs out loud, staring down at me, “What?”

Jack just shakes his head, “I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

⋆༺

KIMI

The guys somehow found three old gaming controllers and hooked them up to the TV. Ollie and Jack are screaming at each other as I grab the ice bucket, “Hey! Grab me a candy bar?”

“Oh! And some crisps!” Jack cuts in. Rolling my eyes, I grab some cash and slip out the door.

As I walk down the hallway, I’m humming a stupid one direction song that Ollie got stuck in my head. The hotel is nice and I pause when I walk past the window.

Brazil stares back at me, the darkness isolating the few lights that are still on. I pull myself away from the view and continue humming and walking to the ice machine.

I stop my noise as soon as I turn the corner, seeing a girl standing with her back facing me, and her foot repeatedly hitting the vending machine.

She’s in pink low waisted flared sweats, and what looks like a formerly oversized shirt, cut into a crop and off the shoulder top.

“Fuck!” She yells again, this time placing her hands on the machine.

“Y/n?” I don’t mean to scare her, but she jumps. “Sorry. You need help?”

She looks hopelessly between me and the machine, crossing her arms over her bare skin, “Yes. This stupid thing ate my money!”

I can’t help but smile at her anger, her face is red and her hair looks like she’s shoved her hands through it a million times.

I quietly nod, peering into the box and seeing the stuck candy. I put my money in, buying a packet of strawberry cookies that do exactly what I hoped.

When the pack falls, it knocks her candy right out. “My savior.” She jokes before bending down and reaching into it. My gaze flicks down to her ass, the curve of her waist and her skin on display.

When she stands, I finally see her candy. It’s a chocolate bar with some sort of nuts and she looks ecstatic to finally have it in her grasp.

“Thank you!” She hands over my cookies that I hope Ollie will eat, “How’s the boys night going? They put you on errand duties?” She laughs a bit, a sound I wish I could bottle.

I scratch the back of my neck, “Yeah… What are you up to tonight?”

She shrugs, “Movies, going through pictures, snacks, crying. The usual?”

I let out a breathy laugh, “Why are you crying?”

“I miss my cat.”

“Mmm, peppermint.” I swear she almost starts crying right there. But she takes a breath, “You alone?”

It’s like a switch flips and she’s suddenly looking up at me like I'm more than some kid from karting. She bats her eyelashes, “I don’t have to be. Ditch the guys, I'm watching the princess bride.” I frown, I do love that movie.

“As appealing as that sounds… I think your brother would have an issue with that.” Her lips quirk into a slow smirk. God I love her lips.

“Tell them you got lost. Or kidnapped!” she steps a bit closer, “You really gonna turn down my invite?”

Fuck. Actually fuck. Fuck Ollie for having such a hot sister and fuck her for being so damn convincing. “You’re making it really hard for me.”

She doesn’t miss a fucking beat, raising a brow innocently, “Making more than one thing hard?”

I bite my lip, shaking my head, “You’re funny.”

She doesn’t break eye contact, “I aim to please.”

“You’re gonna get me in trouble, Bella.” I see her flirty facade break when I call her that. She likes it and I like that I can make her blush like that.

She flips her hair over her shoulder, “There’s this thing called self control.

I run my tongue over my teeth, “Trust me. I know a thing or two about it.” She looks satisfied at my answer, “Is this gonna come back to haunt me?”

She blinks innocently, backing up, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

I groan, watching her sinister smirk as she leaves, “Bearman…”

She mocks me, laughing, “Antonelli.” I want her to say my name a million times in a million different ways.

I nod slowly, “Have fun crying!”

“Have fun thinking about me!” She blows a kiss before disappearing around the corner. I want to chase after her and keep our conversation going forever.

Instead, I buy a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar. Walking back to my room, all I can wonder is why the universe continues to test me with my best friend's bloody sister.

⋆༺

YOU

I bounce around the paddock, RAYE in my headphones and my camera in hand. The sprint is over and after some dramatics, the rain started.

I texted Jack as soon as I saw the dark cloud, letting him know he’d be good as a prophet.

I run into Franco, he looks tired but happy to see me, “Fran!” He hasn’t been here for long, but his first day was when we met and hit it off instantly. He’s like another brother to me.

“I’m hiding from the media.” He whispers, “Anything interesting happen to you recently?” My mind immediately goes to Kimi and last night. Something about him just makes me need to mess with him.

But maybe it’s not all for fun, maybe it’s a bit of truth mixed with flirting.

“Uh oh…” Franco points at me, “You've got that look in your eye.”

I scoff, playing it off, “What look?”

“That look like something interesting did happen to you. Spill!” I’m about to say something but a figure appears next to us, clapping his hand with Franco and smiling at me.

“Norris!” I thank god for the distraction.

“What’s up?” He’s in all papaya orange, a water bottle in hand.

Franco smirks, “Y/n here was just about to tell me about her interesting life!” He crosses his arms, “Go ahead.”

“Oh?” Lando turns to me as well, standing next to Franco. I suddenly feel very ganged up on.

“I’m not telling you two anything! You’re both too nosy.”

“Can’t help but be curious. Especially about you.” Franco’s relaxed manner makes my lips crack, smiling a bit. “So tell us, who’s the boy?”

“You’re not my brother- you don’t get to ask that.”

“You tell Ollie about your boy troubles?” Lando asks.

“He’s my twin, it’s in the rule book. At least everything he won’t gag at.”

Lando laughs at this, his eyes tracking past me and I know instantly as him and Franco smile, “Kid!” Lando waves him over just as Franco catches the look on my face.

His mouth drops but I just run my tongue over my teeth, holding back my smile with my hands on my hips.

Kimi is next to me in seconds, coolly looking at me as if he wasn’t an inch away from me yesterday. “Hey.”

“So what are your intentions?” Franco comes in hot and embarrassing, my eyes widening at him.

Kimi looks confused and a little intimidated, “With…?”

I stare Franco down, my eyes wide and panicked, Lando finally understanding and breaking out into laughter.

“Next year. You gonna be okay with your friend on the grid? I mean we all saw what happened with Lewis.”

Kimi looks at me as if i’m going to be any help, “I think i’ll be okay… Y/n will probably give me more issues than Ol.”

I scoff, “Right. You’re so cocky with Merc. Do you need a reminded how Lewis is driving that car this weekend?” I tick and wave my finger, “Ollie was totally geeking out when he overtook him.”

He laughs as Lando smiles, “I say we get Y/n a car and see how she likes it.”

Kimi shakes his head, “Don't say that! She’ll go bowling and still win.”

I smile widely, “I was a menace in karting. Kimi has never had the pleasure of racing against me.”

“You’re the one getting cocky, Bella. You really think you can beat me?” I nod, knowing full well I would not beat him.

Lando and Franco both look at us quizzically, “Bella?” Franco speaks italian. Something Kimi clearly did not know.

Lando frowns, “Bella? Is that your middle name or something.” Kimi looks like a deer in headlights.

“More like a nickname.” I mumble.

Franco eyes me, “And you know what it means?”

Lando is still confused, “What does it mean!?”

We all ignore him, “Mhm.” I say as Kimi fiddles with his ring, “Anyways- I gotta go!”

⋆༺

I ignore Kimi for the rest of the day. In my mind, i’m blaming it on work as if the rain hasn’t stopped my job.

Well, I still sit in the garage and snap pictures of the same things over and over again. Charles and Carlos are pretty but become boring to look at after two hours of them sitting and staring into space.

“Y/n!” The head media manager comes up to me, “Could you go print out what I just sent you? It’s for a tiktok.” I nod, grateful for a distraction and a reason to get out of the cold.

Walking through the halls, I stare at blank walls and try to find the printer which we share with two other teams.

It’s hidden in a dark corner, the door shut. I walk in, still humming to my music when I face Kimi. I’m reminded of last night and how his humming ceased when he saw me.

He turns around when the door squeaks, “Oh, Hey.”

“They got you running errands again?” I smile, the door shutting behind me.

“You’re one to talk.” He eyes my phone in my hand, the picture pulled up already.

“Fair enough…” I walk closer to him, he’s leaning over the printer, “How long is your stuff going to take?”

“I’m assuming a while because I can’t get it to work.” My eyebrows pull together as I look at the tiny screen, my arm brushing his as I reach over and press some buttons.

I eye his arms, something that keeps acting a magnet for my eyes. Stupid driver workouts.

Kimi checks his watch, groaning, “I gotta be back soon.” I keep messing with it as he crosses his arms.

“I’m not very experienced in printers.” I shrug, turning to him, “Maybe we can borrow Haas’?” He makes a face, “It’s a printer, not a car part.”

When he reaches for the doorknob a sense of sadness washes over me, knowing we’ll be separated again.

But i’m supposed to be avoiding him! I can't make up my mind and it’s making me angry. I don’t want to be with him but I do at the same time and I'm busy and stressed and he’s so damn cute.

He turns it, except it doesn’t turn. His hand slides over it as it stays in place. He looks back at me, already panicked.

Suddenly, i’ve completely forgot about why I want to stay with him. Because all I can focus on is that I’m stuck in a tiny room with Kimi Antonelli and no fucking air.

⋆༺

KIMI

We’ve texted everyone we know, called and banged on the door, yet still… nothing.

I think she’s freaking out because her hand hasn’t left her bracelet. I sit next to her on the floor as she shivers, “I’m going to petition for a bigger warning budget.” I laugh a bit, shrugging off my jacket.

I see her gaze drop to the black bomber, “I don’t know how you’re cold because I'm getting hot.” I push the jacket closer to her and she offers a small smile and pulls it on.

I think she’s going to stay quiet, but she looks up and sighs, “Must be because I'm so hot.”

I laugh, grateful for her humor back, “Glad to know you’re feeling well enough to talk yourself up.” a small smile graces her lips again.

“The day I don’t, call the police.” She crosses her arms, pulling my jacket close to her, “Thanks.”

“No problem, I told you, you look good in mercedes merch.” She’s facing the wall across from us still, her head tilted back as she bites back a smile.

“Do I look good in Mercedes, or is it just because it’s yours?” She tilts her head towards me as a slow smile meets my lips.

“Bit of both?” I look at her. Her eyes locked on mine as they squint a bit, assessing my answer. “Mostly cause it’s mine.”

She shakes her head, looking forward again, her cheeks pink.

“Your flirting game has improved.” she teases again, “Must be all the time around me.” cocky. arrogant. and correct.

“Nah, I think it’s because I actually mean it.” I see her breathing change, her smile fading.

“Too far, Antonelli. Don’t do that.” She whispers.

“Do what?”

She sits up, turning towards me completely, “Giving me false hope.”

I blink, realizing that this is real and happening right now as we’re stuck in a tiny room, “There’s nothing false about it.” when she starts to look away from me, rolling her eyes, I scoff, “You can’t be the one upset about this. You started this!”

“I started this?” she looks shocked but her voice is still calm, “You called me ‘Bella’. You called me Bella and I didn’t even know your last name.”

“Some girls would like that I described her as I see her. And you 100% love it.” She licks her lips as I continue, “Ollie tells both of us to stop constantly. I thought you at least do it to bug him.”

“Kimi. I don’t care what my brother says that much and… If I was doing it because of Ollie- I wouldn’t flirt with you when we’re alone.”

“So you like it. So why did you tell me to stop?” I can’t quite place the look on her face, confusion mixed with… anger?

“I told you… false hope.”

“And I told you. There’s nothing false about it.” She swallows. I can hear myself breathing as she stares at me.

She stares at me as if it's the first time we met. She stares at me like she knows everything about me. She’s confusing and it’s making me so angry because we’re stuck in this fucking room and neither of us will-

I’m so caught up in my own mind that I don’t realize she’s leaning in. I don’t realize until her hand touches my jaw and her lips are on mine.

She pulls back, her eyes wide and her breath quickened. “I- Sorry.” I’m shaking my head and pulling her in before she can talk again.

She tastes like mint and smells like chocolate. My hand slips under the jacket, gripping her waist. I think I'm dreaming and if I am I don’t want to ever be woken up.

“Bella.” I whisper, my breath ragged and her smile pressing against my lips.

And then the door opens.

We pull apart so quickly that when Ollie blinks down at us, he doesn't see us. But he knows.

Y/n’s lips are red and my cheeks match it. We’re both panting and Ollie just blinks.

“Ollie.” Y/n says, her voice breaking the silence.

“No.” Is all he says before turning around and leaving.

���༺

YOU

Ollie isn’t pissed.

Ollie is… embarrassed? Uncomfortable? Horrified that he caught his sister and best friend making out?

We had texted him to get us out of that room and obviously I completely forgot because I was FUCKING KISSING KIMI.

I’m still warm and absolutely buzzing, but with the rain delay, I'm on extra photo duty. I edit all through the afternoon and fall asleep before I even think of texting him.

On quali and race day, I wake up way too early to my phone dead, and when I finally make it to the track, I'm working again.

With my phone a tiny bit charged, I text Kimi.

I’m tapping my foot the whole race, cringing at every crash and mentally screaming at every red flag.

I keep checking my phone to see if Kimi has texted me but still nothing. He pops up on the TV when Lewis gets overtaken.

I don’t mean to smile, but I do.

It’s ridiculous. I’m acting like a total school girl! One day, i’m flirting and sizing him up because I thought our game was… well… just a game. Even though I didn’t want it to be. And the next, I'm kissing him and checking my phone like an obsessed freak in love.

I really do like him. And that scares me a whole lot more than I expected.

⋆༺

KIMI

I frown with the team at todays result for Lewis, but I fucking run out of the garage the second the podium starts.

I find her in the midst of chaos, her hair is wet and I can’t help but laugh. She doesn’t see me yet, but she’s making a disgusted face and peeling her hair off her face, “Bella.”

She turns just then, her face morphing into a smile, “Hi.”

“You wanted to talk?” She nods, pulling me into an empty glass room.

“I like you.”

A slow smile pulls at my lips as I lean against the table, “I like you too…”

She sighs, like all she needed was to hear that. “But i’m fucking scared because how does that even work and I always thought you flirted back as a joke and Ollie is so weird about it and I really really like you.”

I take her hand in mine, her eyes settling on me, “The first time I saw you, I told Ollie you were pretty. He then informed me that you were his twin and I wanted to die.” She laughs out loud, “But it’s more than your face, because as pretty as you are, and as much as we flirt… I like you because you’re the smartest eighteen year old I know and the only one who can make me laugh and blush simultaneously.”

Her breath slows, stepping closer so she’s standing in between my legs, “I’m sorry for being a pussy about you.”

I laugh, “I wouldn’t give up your cheesy lines for anything.” my favorite smile stares back at me. The one that I create. I poke her in the side, “You fancy me!” I mock her accent as she rolls her eyes and kisses me.

She’s sweet and perfect and my girl.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR

A/N: And another one-shot with my precious Logan. This has angst and some fluff. Enjoy!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff

Words: 3700+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR

It was a wild, exhausting day. Well, more like five days. The last time I visited my parents was almost a year ago. They knew nothing about my new life, only the lies I told them.  That’s why I didn’t have time to see them as often as they wanted to. 

I missed them. That’s why I came back. I thought my short vacation with them in my home town would be without incidents and fights. Oh how wrong I was. 

It was eleven in the evening. I was sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. The night was cold. Autumn hit with full force. I wished I could return to the place where I felt more at home. Unfortunately, the school was over four hours drive away from my hometown. 

I had my phone in my hands, contemplating whether to call the person who could make me smile or not. My eyes were on the contact name, and I was not sure whether to press the button or forget about it and head back to bed. It was too late for a phone call even when I knew he’d be up. After a couple of deep breaths, I decided to tap the screen and call my boyfriend Logan. 

<< Hey baby. 

Hearing his voice made me smile. Logan picked up the call quickly. “Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

<< No, of course not. I’m reading that book you got me before you left. Damn, good choice, baby. 

I laughed. “Yeah, it’s that good? Glad you like it. Maybe I’ll get you to read more. Even if they are historical memoirs or anything that has to do with history. We could start our own club, just the two of us.” I heard him laugh. Quickly, he changed the topic.

<< So, how’s the visit going? Everything good? 

I sighed, not knowing what to say to him. I didn’t want to complain. I already told him something about my parents - how they treat me even when they care about me. My relationship with my family was complicated. “It’s okay,” I said simply. “It’s okay. Really, okay.”

<< One more and I’ll believe ya.

“It is what it is. I always believe it’ll be better and it’s not,” I admitted. “Only two more days and I’ll head to the mansion. I have the bus tickets and everything planned to get back.” 

<< What happened, darlin’? You know you can talk to me.

“I know,” I kept shaking my head, nodding to no one. “I just don’t want to complain. I hate complaining. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” 

<< I get that you hate it. But maybe it’s time you did complain a little. I am here for you, darlin’. I’ll listen and we can talk about it. I don’t want you to feel miserable. Just… can’t believe you decided to visit them when they treat you like shit. 

He was right. They always treated me like shit. As an only child, I was the black sheep of the family. Or they saw me as one. My parents didn’t mind ridiculing me in front of our other relatives or their friends. Even as an adult, they continued to do this to me. I was dumb enough to let them. 

<< Tell me what happened, Y/N.

“We visited my relatives, my father’s sister, and they all ganged up on me,” I said. My voice was low. I whispered most of the time, not to wake anyone up. 

I didn’t trust anyone from my family. They didn’t know I was a mutant, where I was working or that I saved the day multiple times since becoming an X-man. They lost my trust the moment they decided to invade my privacy as a teen and snoop around my messages, diaries and stuff. It wasn’t just that. I was ridiculed for liking books, and for being too excited about the little things in life. My taste for music was weird and laughable. My lack of interest in boys was concerning. It was a whole story. 

“My friend and I wanted to go to a concert in a few months. I got excited someone wanted to attend with me - no, baby, you don’t listen to that kind of music -  and they decided to make me feel miserable for my excitement,” I explained. 

<< Darlin’, why do you always let them do this to you? 

“Because I am dumb,” I rolled my eyes. “Because I hate fights and any type of quarrels. I don’t like conflicts.” 

Logan knew I never mentioned to my family that I was seeing someone. I wasn’t ashamed of the relationship - the opposite, honestly. My family didn’t deserve to know anything about me. 

<< I think it’s time you cut contact with them. I know it sounds horrible when I say it. As If I tried to influence you in some way. Just, fuck, I hate when they make you miserable. Baby, to me, it seems like they don’t care and don’t give a shit about your well-being. 

I knew he was right. And yet, I was afraid to do that step. “They are my parents-”

<<Whom treat you like shit, Y/N. I am so fucking angry at them. I should have come with you. I’d be there to teach them a fucking lesson about respecting the woman I love. 

Those words made me smile. Never in my life have I had someone to defend me like Logan would. The grump, my grump, was there for me when no one was. He was mine for over a year now. 

“You love me, yay,” I said happily. 

<< Baby, you know damn well I love you. I should have been there tonight. I should have been there to let them know how shitty they are. 

I hummed. “That’s okay. I know you’d defend my honour. And I love you for that. I need to survive two more days before I head back to school. The bus drive will be the best thing from this trip.” 

<< The school is your home. So, come back home. Change the bus tickets and leave. I want you here with me, darlin’. 

“No,” I shook my head. “That would be rude. I need to toughen up and survive these last two days. Afterwards, I’m done. Besides, I don’t have a good emergency story.” 

<< You don’t need one. 

“Logan, come on,” I sighed. “I’ll be back in two days. I miss you. Can’t wait to be with you. I’m staying.”

<< Miss you too, darlin’. Two fucking days.

I had to laugh. He was cute and he didn’t know that. After that, we ended the call. I remained sitting on the porch swing, looking at the silent street. Everyone was asleep. The whole neighbourhood calmed down as their residents rested for the night. 

The air got colder, so I moved from the porch, back to my old room and headed to bed. What if I was exaggerating the problem with my parents? What if it was me creating conflict when there wasn’t any? With a heavy sigh, I went to bed. 

The next day was a chaos. Around lunch, my father’s aunt and her family came to the house. “Didn’t your mother tell you? We’ll have lunch together and we wanted to be with you some more before you leave again,” my aunt chuckled at her words. 

“Great,” I said, but I wasn’t thrilled at all.

Her kids were loud, spoilt brats. They’d let them do anything they wanted. It pissed me off. I knew they were my cousins. Unfortunately. As much as I wanted to teach them a lesson and tell them no, their mother would always allow everything. 

Both boys were running around the house, screaming and throwing toys around. To calm them down, they got tablets to do whatever they wanted -  a movie, a game? Why not both? 

Logan was right. I should have left. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with them. And with lunch approaching, I knew it would be a stressful one. All the yelling, the bitching and moaning…

We were about to head to the dining table when we heard the doorbell ring once the food was ready to be served. “I’ll get it,” I said. I was the closest to them. 

As I walked to the door, I put my hair in a messy bun, to keep them away when I’d eat. I expected to see a neighbour or another family member that I wasn’t interested in seeing. When I opened the door, I gasped.

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Logan was leaning against the doorframe. He had black sunglasses on his face, dressed in those damn jeans and a green-blue flannel shirt. A brown leather jacket was resting on his shoulders. Dressed to kill… me. Fuck. He looked hot.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” My eyes widened, lips twitched because they wanted to curl into a smile. I grabbed him by the leather jacket to pull myself closer to him. He smelled like cigars and nice minty body spray. 

“I came to rescue my princess from this hellhole,” he said, voice firm and serious. 

I coughed. “What? Baby, we’re having an unexpected family lunch,” I made a face. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you are here,” I hummed with a smile. “Wait, did you ask Charles to help you get here? You went through my file!” 

“I needed to get here somehow,” said Logan innocently. “And it seems I am on time for lunch. I am starving.”

My mouth dropped to the floor when I heard him say that. I wanted to say something, anything. Unluckily, my mother decided to make herself present by approaching us. “Oh, hello, is everything okay?” she asked us. 

Logan put down his glasses and grinned at my mother. “I came to see your daughter.” 

“Oh?” 

I looked up at the ceiling, cursing mentally. I felt stress crawl up my back. Not because Logan decided to show up. It was my mother’s subtle reactions. How her brows rose, how I could sense the tension in her body. Or was it thrill?

“This… is… Logan,” I lazily turned to my mother. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

“You have a boyfriend?!” she squealed. “And you didn’t tell us?” It seemed she was offended. “You never tell us anything! Ah! This is a big deal. Oh my god!”

Deep breath in and slow exhale. I did it multiple times. Immediately, Logan approached me as I tried to calm myself down. He rested his hand on my lower back. 

One last deep breath. “Uh, we’ll be right there. I need to talk to Logan for a moment, okay?” 

My mother nodded, grinning like a maniac. She clapped her hands and ran back to the dining room. I knew she would let her mouth run wild and comment on what she saw. Lunch was about to turn into a nightmare. 

“You okay, baby?” Logan asked me gently. 

I pushed him outside and closed the door behind us. I was panicking a little. “This day is crazy,” I mumbled. “Oh my god.” I panicked a little. 

As I got closer to Logan, he wrapped his arms around my body, pressing me to his chest. “Everything will be fine,” he assured me. “You angry at me?” 

“No,” I said. “Quite the opposite. I’m glad you are here,” I inhaled his scent which helped me calm down a bit. “Fuck, you are like a gift from heaven. I should have listened to you and headed back to school. I’ve been receiving shit since the very morning. And now, my aunt and her family are here and… I want to run away.” 

He pressed a kiss on top of my head. “So, let’s go. Fuck them,” he said. “I’ll get your stuff and we are out of here.” 

“It’s not that easy,” I sighed. 

He growled, thinking. “Okay, listen to me,” he pushed me enough to look into my face. “Here’s the deal. One shit, one stupid thing from them, we are out. I don’t give a shit they are your family. They will not disrespect you. I won’t allow that.” 

I didn’t have the chance to say something. Logan took my hand and led me back into the house. He trusted his instinct which led him to a room filled with my family members. The moment we stepped into the dining room, all eyes were on us. 

First came the introductions. My father tried to be intimidating. My uncle used his dumb intelligent humour to impress Logan. Neither of us found it funny. My aunt was too touchy. I wanted to step on her foot for that. My cousins didn’t give a shit. They were interested in their mobile games. 

“How long have you been together?” 

It was the first of many questions. Logan and I sat next to each other. My mother brought a plate for him. One of his hands found my thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s been over a year now,” he said, voice low and gruff. 

“Where did you meet?” my aunt asked. 

“At work,” I said quickly. “We work in the same building.” 

“Really?” My father didn’t believe that. “He doesn’t look like someone who would work in a big corporate company.”

“Dad!” I glared at him. 

No one knew what I was, what was my real job. I told them a story about my life in New York, working for a big company. For them, I was the daughter who moved to New York. I wasn’t the mutant, the whiny girl they used to call me. Of course, Logan knew it all.

My aunt eyed Logan once more. “They take you seriously with that hair?” she asked him. 

My eyes almost popped out of my head. I couldn’t believe she dared to say it. “Excuse me?” was all I got out of my mouth.

And it got worse. 

“We always believed our Y/N would move to Europe and live her life there. Empty promises how she’d become a writer, leave the country and live a better life,” my mother laughed. “We believed she would be the one to leave the county and do great things. And here we are.” 

“Still can’t believe she didn’t settle down. But what do you want from someone who’s not fond of kids? She always hated kids, so be prepared she wouldn’t want a family with you,” said my aunt. 

“She never went to college. She lied to us about applying, her interest in decusation.” 

“Always complaining and crying.” 

“She was a sensible child.”

“She suffered from depression and anxiety.”

Logan smashed a hand against the table. All the plates and cutlery rang. I closed my eyes, ready to release my last breath from all the humiliation. My family went rampage - saying shit that even they knew was not true. But here we were. 

“Everyone shut your goddamn mouths,” he snarled, slowly rising from the table. “She is your goddamn daughter and you’ve been treating her like shit the moment I sat behind this damn table. How the fuck do you think you make her feel?” 

“Language!” my aunt glared at him. “Children are present.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your two spoilt bastards,” Logan glared at her. “You can’t even make them put the damn tablets down while eating.”

“Who do you think you are?” my mother asked. She was offended by Logan’s behaviour. 

“I am the guy who needs to put you in your fucking place. You do not respect your daughter and you keep humiliating her in front of me. Instead of saying something nice, something positive, you’ve been running your mouth off with a lot of bullshit and I am sick of it.” 

Logan grabbed me by my arm and helped me get up. I barely listened to a word they all said. My mind was spiralling. I felt like the biggest loser, the black sheep of the family. Someone who shouldn’t be born.

“Don’t you fucking dare say one more word about her,” Logan spat at them. “Or I swear, I will make your lives miserable. She’s the most amazing woman in this godforsaken world. She means the world to me. She’s the definition of goodness, kindness and love. And fuck, I don’t deserve her. But I will defend her and show her how worthy of love she is because it seems you never loved her in the first place!” 

Silence. Everyone was glaring at Logan, shocked by the words he said. As if they all forget how to speak. 

“Y/N? How can you be with this rude man?” 

“Rude?” I raised a brow. “You’ve been rude to me the whole week I was here. Logan defended me when no one else did. Even I couldn’t stand up for myself and send you to hell and back! You are the rude here, not him.” 

“That’s not true,” my uncle chimed in.

I got up from the table. “I’m gonna go pack and we’ll be on our way.” 

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” said Logan, quickly pressing a kiss to my temple as I walked by him. 

The packing took me less than five minutes. I threw everything into my suitcase. I made sure I had my documents. The moment I got downstairs with my belongings, my mother was the first by my side. 

“You can’t be serious,” she said. 

“I am.”

“And with that man?”

I stopped and glared at her. My feelings were battling inside of me. I wanted to scream, shout nasty words and throw a tantrum like a child would. However, I would never do that. I hated conflicts. I hated this moment.

“Bye, Mother,” I said and left the house. 

Once I stepped out of the house I grew up in, I felt relief and grief. A chapter, that was supposed to end sooner, finally closed. It was not a happy ending, but it had to happen to move on. Without Logan’s help, I wouldn’t be able to do that. Thank god he came here so unexpectedly. He got my back.

Logan was leaning against the car, cigar in his mouth. When I approached him, he took my suitcase and put it inside the car. 

“Thanks,” I whispered. 

I ended up in his tight embrace. The cigar long forgotten. He had to put it off on his hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get going.” 

“Take me home,” I said with a broken voice. 

“Home?” I knew he was smiling when he said that.

“Yes,” I nodded. “ Like you said - the X-mansion is my home. You are my home. Not this, not here.” 

Logan lifted my head by pressing a finger under my chin. Our eyes met. “I’m sorry they never treated you right. I’m sorry they saw you as something damaged, broken, now worthy of their time” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do everything to show you, that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You…” Logan sighed. “You are the love of my life.” 

“Logan,” I gasped. We told each other many times the three beautiful words. This was something new, deep. It was an undiscovered territory that didn’t feel intimidating. 

His lips found mine in a simple kiss. I tasted the cigars and the coke he had during unfinished lunch. It was perfect. Like a definition of our relationship. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.” 

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Danny ran away.

The classic reveal didn’t go right/ the GIW is hunting to him/ everyone is dead. You pick.

He’s alone. In Gotham. With nothing.

Staying in the city makes sense, right? Except for the crazy rogues he doesn’t want to get involved in or the straight up normal humans dressing up to fight them. Danny wasn’t touching that with a 10 foot pole. So he travelled further to the outskirts where he hoped to find a cabin some rich family only stays in for the summer.

Instead he finds rich mansions hidden back in the trees with big tall gates keeping everyone out. Most had people living there (he checked), all except for this one.

He’s only seen a kid, maybe ten, go in and out for school and sneaking out late at night.

Danny thinks he’s smart, sneaking in to snag some food and rest a bit when he knows the kid is gone. He doesn’t account for if the boy comes back earlier than normal.

Wide, surprised eyes meet wide, panicked eyes. Danny doesn’t even shove the next bite of Mac and Cheese in his mouth before he’s booking it to the nearest window.

“Wait!” Danny doesn’t wait. “You don’t have to go!”

Danny slows to a stop. Um, what?

He turns to give the boy a look but he doesn’t cringe back. The kid steps forward, almost impulsively.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing food and sleeping in the guest bedroom in the west wing, right?”

How the heck did he know where Danny was taking a nap? He always made sure to fix the bed when he left.

The boy continues without any answer.

“You don’t have to keep hiding. You can stay. I’ll provide you food and clothes and you can pick whatever room you want to stay in.”

Danny doesn’t know what’s gotten into the kid, but he suddenly feels flat footed and so off balanced.

“Why?” He asks incredulously. Why do all that for him? Why trust a strange teenager in his home? Why bother with him? He’s obviously homeless and has been stealing from him.

The boy’s lips thin slightly like he doesn’t want to say. Like he’s embarrassed.

Instead he says, “You had dozens of chances to steal any of the priceless artifacts in this house, but instead you only steal enough food for yourself and to rest.”

Okay. Yea, that was technically true and he could see the boy is thinking he figured out Danny’s personality by just that (it reminds him of Jazz how confident the kid is), but that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy!

He goes to tell the kid off for thinking he knows anything about some random teen that keeps breaking into his house, but then notices the way the boy is holding himself.

“You’re hurt.”

The boy jolts like he wasn’t expecting Danny to notice at all. He looks down and adjusts his weight a bit.

“Uh…”

“Did you twist your ankle?” Danny guesses.

The boy mutely nods, looking at him with wide eyes with too much emotion to decipher.

“Well come sit down, don’t keep standing on it, dummy.”

The boy quickly makes his way over to sit delicately on the edge of the couch cushion. Danny goes to the freezer where he knows he saw an ice pack once when he was going through it.

Danny helps the kid turn and lay back until he can elevate the foot under a pillow and set the cold ice pack over the sock. The boy is still staring at him with those wide, intense eyes.

“Ice it for a while and after you take a shower I’ll wrap it for you. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“The first floor bathroom.”

“Which one? You have three.”

“Four actually. You missed the one in the laundry room.”

Danny gives him a look.

“Kid.”

“Tim,” the boy corrects happily. “My name is Tim. Timothy Drake.”

Danny just looks back for a few moments at what is undoubtedly a flicker of hope in those blue eyes. He sighs.

“I’m Danny.”

And a weird friendship was born. Or more of a sibling-ship? Brotherhood? They teeter over the line of friend and family daily.

Danny did stay and Tim was thrilled to have someone else in the house, someone that wasn’t cold or professional towards him. They played games together and joked and taught each other things.

Danny was good at fixing anything that was broken and was the one to do any errands while Tim was at school. He was also the one who had to teach Tim how to be a brother.

Tim on the other hand seemed to be good at everything but letting himself relax. He was a hyper and intelligent kid whose mind was always active, so Danny had to accommodate and come up with crazy games and tasks for the boy in the disguise of requests, but he also made the boy sit down with him to watch crappy movies and just relax together.

They had fun, but they also had bumps and misunderstands. Danny nearly blew his top when Tim snuck out to spy on Batman and Robin without telling him (and wasn’t that a conversation to remember when the Danny found out what he was really doing at night). And Tim had a problem with lying to try and make Danny not worry, which ended up doing the opposite.

They got through those hiccups together though because they were both too possessive to let the other go that easily.

Tim created a fake identity for Danny saying they were cousins. The same black hair and blue eyes kinda sold it with a backstory of Danny’s mother being disowned by Janet’s parents. Jack and Janet weren’t home enough (or invested enough) to confirm or deny.

It was funny though watching Tim stare after Jason Todd-Wayne longingly for a while, but enough was enough. If Tim secretly wanted to befriend his idol, then Danny would make it happen. And he did of course. He made friends with the butler after ‘losing’ a frisbee in their yard and asked if they could get together for dinner one night so Tim and Jason could hang out outside of school. Alfred obviously knew Danny was pushing for Tim’s sake, but he still agreed easily enough.

So became a normal for the Wayne’s and the Drake’s to eat dinner together at least once a month. And after many meetings Danny mentally checked them off as ‘okay enough for vigilantes’ and stayed behind while the two younger boys ran off to go play a game before they headed home next door.

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Come now, you know you can call me Bruce, Danny,” the man smiles. It’s a little too wide, but Danny understands he’s still trying to put on the Brucie mask. He really wish he wouldn’t.

“Right, Bruce.” He fidgets for a second with his hoodie strings and he can feel Bruce’s attention zero in on the motion. “I need to ask you a favor.”

The air turns tense with the silence after that.

“What’s wrong, Danny? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine! Promise. I just- I just need you to promise me something. Please.”

Danny felt so awkward. He has never relied on an adult before, always doing everything himself or with other kids, something Tim and him have in common. So to turn to Bruce Wayne was out of character, but he wasn’t really. He was asking Batman, and him Danny could trust a little more.

“Promise you what?”

Danny could hear the barely covered suspicion in his voice.

“If- If something happens and I’m not around anymore, I need you to take Tim in,” he states, looking at the man full on to show how serious a matter this was.

The man stares back equally serious.

“What would happen to you? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Bruce asks.

Danny shakes his head hard.

“I’m not into drugs, Bruce. Or a gang or gambling or anything like that okay? I don’t owe any debt someone’s coming after me for. I just need insurance, some piece of mind that if something did happen that meant I couldn’t take care of Tim, there would be someone to look after him.”

Bruce stares back, thinking, for several moments.

“Tim has parents, Danny, I don’t know what you expect me to do. And what do you mean you take care of him? Don’t you boys have a caretaker?”

“Of course we don’t. We look after each other, but I’m the oldest. His parents are never home. I’m not exaggerating, they were in Gotham for only fifty-four days last year. They missed Tim’s birthday, holidays, everything. He’s still a kid, he needs someone to be there for him and if I’m suddenly gone then he has no one. Promise me that won’t happen. Promise me you’ll take him in, that you’ll figure out a way to keep him with you so he at least has Jason and you and Alfred.”

Bruce is silent for a while and Danny knows what he’s struggling with. He didn’t really want to use his trump card, but desperate measures.

“We already know who you are. You don’t have to worry about him finding out your secret.”

All traces of the Brucie mask drops at that confession and Batman analyzes him.

“How?”

“Tim is a really smart kid,” he just says with a fond smile. “He’s known for a while too, so you know he won’t go blabbing to the media or whatever.”

“What about you?”

“If I wanted to blackmail you, don’t you think I would have led with that? I don’t care what you do in your free time, but it’s not my business to tell.”

Danny shrugs and tries not to squirm under being scrutinized.

“Since you know who I am, if you are in trouble or ever need help, you can come to me.”

Danny blinks.

“Yea, that’s what I’m doing. So do you promise?”

Bruce nods once, very controlled.

“Yes. I promise you that I will take care of Tim Drake if anything happens to you,” the man vows solemnly.

Danny smiles back, shoulders sagging in relief.

“Thank you.”

When Danny somehow saves Jason from dying, and two months later goes missing, Bruce has to honor that promise while also tracking down the teenager to bring home to a very distraught Tim.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 9: werewolf | T | wc: 1,735

🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾

“I need a werewolf to take one look at me and go “I’ll have that” then claim me as their mate and never let me go.” Eddie says out of the blue.

The soda Steve was drinking stings the back of his nose as it attempts to avoid ending up in his gullet, and Robin automatically starts to pat his back sympathetically as he continues to splutter

The older teens are all over, just a normal kickback type thing after the kids had all been ferried out of Steve’s pool and over to the Wheelers’ armpit of a basement for the night. He and Robin are replenishing their snacks in the kitchen and Steve had been attempting to polish off his current can before grabbing another when Eddie’d said that. Stupid enhanced hearing.

And Robin didn’t even hear it; To her, it must’ve just seemed like Steve’s soda went down the wrong pipe or something.

The conversation in the other room continues on while he struggles to breathe. “Okay…do I even want to know?” Nancy asks, her voice tinged with disgust.

“You never read fanfiction, Nance?”

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Well I have, and having a hairy werewolf hottie decide you’re the one he wants? Swoon.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Everything is someone’s thing, man.” Argyle drawls out.

“Why?” Nancy again.

“‘Cause humans are weird.”

“No, no, I mean why werewolf?”

Steve tunes out Eddie’s response when Robin speaks beside him; “You okay, Dingus?”

“Yeah, yeah, just—“ should he even tell her what he’d heard? …Nah. He’d rather preserve his dignity for a little while longer, thanks. “Just went down the wrong pipe is all.”

“Well if you’re done dying, I’m sure the others are wondering where their snacks are.”

She pats him again, twice in quick succession, and grabs up the freshly re-filled bowl of popcorn and two cans of beer beside her on the counter.

Steve does the same, a bowl of chips in one hand and another three cans in his other, following Robin back into the living room.

To his absolute horror, the first thing she asks when she steps across the threshold back into the room is, “What’d we miss?”

“Eddie was telling us about his kinks.” Nancy states, accepting the can Robin holds out to her; Robin plops down onto the carpet beside her and cracks open hers.

“It’s not a kink, it’s—-“ Eddie argues, cutting himself off, “Okay, maybe it is a kink, but it’s just fictional!”

Robin looks at him, confused. “What is?”

“He wants to be claimed by a wolf.” Jonathan explains, grabbing two of the cans from Steve and passing one to Argyle beside him on the couch.

“Not a wolf, a were-wolf!” Eddie protests loudly at the same time Robin starts cackling.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for biting, Munson.”

“Didn’t know you knew what claiming even entails, Buckley.”

“You think I haven’t been on AO3?” She shakes her head at him, “And I thought we were friends..”

None of the others seem to notice Steve’s lack of response or his bright red face, all of them wrapped up in Eddie’s denial.

“We’ve seen crazier shit..” Jonathan concedes, his response a little delayed and his tone thoughtful. “Who says werewolves aren’t real? Or mermaids? Or bigfoot?”

“Bigfoot is real.” Eddie and Argyle say in unison.

“That’s just fantasy! And no he’s not..” Nancy says, rolling her eyes at the boys.

“With all the insane shit that’s been happening apparently for years now, you’re telling me that vampires, werewolves, and all that crap aren’t a thing? What, are those too fictional for you?” Eddie argues.

Before Nancy can respond, and to Steve’s absolute horror, Robin looks right at him with a devious looking glint in her eye. “What do you think, Steve?”

Three more of the remaining four faces turn to him at once; Argyle remains gazing contentedly up at the ceiling where he’s lounged back on the couch, his feet propped up on one arm and his head in Jonathan’s lap.

“About what?”

“About werewolves.” Eddie and Robin respond at once, the two passing a suspicious glance between them before turning their eyes back to Steve.

“Wanting to be claimed or whatever, or whether or not they exist? ‘Cause I don’t quite have an answer for either.”

Eddie, Nancy, and Robin all start talking at once, Steve’s ears picking out each thing; “It’s not just that! Why won’t any of you listen to me?”, “Please don’t tell me you believe this crap too, Steve.", “Both, obviously!”

He sighs, “Stranger things have happened, Nance,” he says, answering her first, then turning his attention to Eddie, “So explain it then.”

Robin chuckles again, lower in volume this time, and he prepares himself for whatever shit he’s gonna get from her about this. Steve asking the subject of his relatively new gay bi panic turned full-blown crush why exactly he’d be into him right to his face has got to be like Christmas coming early to her.

“It’s the whole claiming thing too, alright, don’t get me wrong, but it's also the..” Eddie’s face shifts into embarrassment and his cheeks tinge pink, as if what he’s about to say is the more embarrassing part than the horny biting thing (Steve’s read a few fics in his time too, sue him.), “The Belonging thing. Like, they picked you to be a part of their family, their ‘pack’.” he emphasizes the word with his fingers. “I like the whole chosen family part….” he says, quietly, then his face switches out of embarrassment, going back into confidence in a blink, “But a full-hearted “Yes!” to the whole staking their claim thing. Also definitely that.”

The others groan, the sound morphing into laughter, and Steve thinks he’s off the hook about answering. Until.

“So? Steve?”

Damnit Robin.

“I mean..” Steve’s face burns hot again, the initial flush that had managed to die off coming back full force. “I don’t know about the whole claiming thing, I’m not into biting,”

‘Getting bitten,’ he corrects in his head, ‘Biting, however..’ leaving his mark on someone, the bright red imprints of his teeth standing out against the pale skin of their—-the hypothetically pale skin of their throat (and beside the hypothetical long dark-brown curls too maybe).

He shakes off the thought, “I can definitely understand the family part though, ‘d be nice to be chosen and be chosen forever.”

“See? Exactly! Steve gets what I’m talking about!” Eddie says, gesturing and grinning wildly at him.

Steve’s probably the only one who doesn’t miss the low shuffling sounds of Jonathan and Nancy squirming where they sit.

“The rest of you don’t get it,” Eddie continues on, standing up and turning to walk out of the room. “But believe me, when I find out werewolves are real,” He stops at the back of the armchair Steve’s settled himself in and puts both his hands on Steve’s shoulders, squeezing slightly, “You’ll be the first one I tell, big boy.” He pats the side of Steve’s face with one ringed hand, then turns out the open doorway and down the hall.

“When?” Steve manages to say.

“When!” Eddie calls back, and Steve hears the bathroom door click shut.

“What a goofball,” Nancy says, shaking her head and standing up herself, straightening her shirt and wandering over to Steve’s record player.

Steve can feel Robin vibrating from across the room, so he sighs, stands, and says, “I’m gonna go clean up the deck. Bobs, you wanna.?”

“Yeah, I’ll help.” she says, way too excitedly, and follows him past the dining table to the sunroom and out the back sliding door.

As soon as her foot hits the concrete patio, she starts.

“Holy shit!”

“Shhh! Shut up!”

She waves off his protests, “Oh come off it, you’d be the only one to hear me from inside anyway. Now come on, Dingus! Spill it! You gonna tell him? You gonna bite him? Are ya gonna mate h—”

“OHkay no, nope, not going there.” Steve cuts her off with a hand over her mouth, which she promptly licks.

Non-plussed, he wipes his palm off onto the shoulder of her shirt as he steps past her and bends to pick up a discarded soda can from earlier.

“C’mon, spill! Are you finally gonna go for it?”

“Go for what?” Maybe he can play dumb his way out of talking about it.

“Nuh uh, the play dumb move isn’t gonna work, Dingus. You gotta go for it! Tell him how you feel! You even know he’ll be totally into all of you when you tell him.”

“Another ‘When’? This is a ‘when’ now too??”

Robin nods, “It’s a ‘When’ now too.”.

Steve huffs a long sigh, picks up another can. “I’m not gonna tell him, Robs.”

“Why not?” Steve can hear the arm-cross from here.

“Because, Robin I…” him?, “Because he…because Eddie..” Because Eddie what?

Steve stops whatever it was he was doing; must’ve been something very unimportant because what he’d been doing is completely overrun by his brain’s attempts to come up with some reason why he shouldn’t tell Eddie about the wolfy side of him.

Really, what’s he going to do? Rat him out to some shady government body to do experiments on him? No, Eddie wouldn’t do that. Or, at least, it’s very unlikely that he’d do that.

Run screaming for the hills? No, apparently he’d love to find out there were such things as werewolves. Werewolf, actually, because as far as even Steve knew, he was the only one.

“Because…?”

Steve finally turns back to face Robin with a huff, yep. Arms crossed. “Hold on, I’m thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut up.”

Only a handful of seconds pass before Robin repeats herself. “Because…?”

“...Okay, maybe I don’t have a great reason why not, but what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Eddie, couldn’t help but be a part of the whole werewolf conversation earlier, but hey, just remembered something, I’m totally a werewolf. A werewolf that’d love nothing more than to throw you down and radish you—-’.”

Steve’s hypothetical conversation is cut off by a sudden bark of a laugh. Steve snaps his attention to the sound, and there he is. Eddie, covering his mouth with one hand and flushed beet red in the light just outside the back sliding door.

The door that was left open.

“Uh…..”

🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾

this is based off some tags i added to a previous post but i cannot get tumblr to add the link 😭

edit: from my tags on this post!

[bigassmoonchild]

night team here

can we request ghost with a daughter that is the mini verison of him like soap thinks shes gonna be sweet and nice and she bullies him worse than her father does

bonus points

price already knew ghosts daughter was a complete savage but soap annoyed him that morning and price decided the consequences of his actions was being brutally roasted

(daughter is gonna be leaning teens just bc i said so. also, thank you so much for the request!! love the night team 🫶🫶)

soap wasn’t supposed to know. this wasn’t something anyone was supposed to know, but simon was decently okay with price knowing. price knew to keep secrets, hell, price had his own.

but simon accidentally let it slip.

‘i’ve gotta get home, early morning,’ he’d told the 141 when they wanted to go out for drinks after a successful mission. they gave him odd looks (one of them was a knowing one, but he’d ignore price being offered to come watch a recital).

soap didn’t let it go, no he didn’t. ‘got the missus waiting back there?’ and simon was exhausted, it was a long mission and all he wanted was to sleep in his own house.

‘kids got a recital,’ he’d muttered and had walked away. what he didn’t expect was to find a huge amount of messages from soap the next morning. most consisted of the same things.

kid??

who’d have a child with you??

what’s the mother look like?

what’s the kids name?

son or daughter?

maybe i wanted to come watch too

i’m technically their uncle

and simon had to leave, collected you from your grandmother and took you to the recital. you were beautiful, the pride and joy of his life. someone he’d never thought he’d ever had, someone he never knew he could love more than anything.

it took months for simon to wear down enough ti even allow any of them to see a picture of you, let alone know your name.

‘beauty, that one is. you sure she came from you?’ simon shoved soap off the chair for that comment. soap continued to rave about being an ‘uncle’ and as much as simon didn’t want it, he had to tell you.

you looked at him weird when he admitted he’d spoken about you to the 141. you knew, generally, what he did but you didn’t get details.

‘ok and?’ you’d asked. ‘what’re they gonna do? it’s not like they’re gonna do something behind your back, not like price has said anything,’ and he worried. maybe he coddled you a little, but you were his girl.

and you’d agreed to meeting them, but told simon you didn’t want to know when. ‘i’ll be thinking about it too much,’ you told him.

simon finally dropped a few names for you, late one night when he’d finally relaxed with some whiskey (he didn’t mention the watered down taste).

‘what kinda name is soap? he drop it or something?’

it took some time before simon had grown any sort of comfortable letting anyone but price be around you. it wasn’t common that you stayed by price when simon was out on a mission, but the occasion happened when it was possibly a fatal one.

it was early morning when you’d sent a text to simon, he hadn’t meant to go to the compound at all that day but had made a lunch. it was a picture of the lunch, still sitting in the fridge with the caption ‘you forget something?’

and he’d groaned, mentioning to price in passing that he forgot his lunch at home. soap and gaz had been there, and a little smile came from soap.

‘just have the lass bring it ‘round, i’m sure she’s dying to meet her uncles,’ price gave a little grimace. ‘what? she’s probably a sweetheart, i cant imagine a girl like her would turn out like ghost,’

you’d relented to bring it around, especially after price messaged you about soap not being able to shut up about meeting you.

he’s pressing me for information. -john

if you bring the food, i’ll give your dad an extra day of leave. -john

please, i’m about to make him run. -john

you always laughed a little when he signed off after each text. it was his own little thing, and you secretly enjoyed having a fatherly figure text you more than three words.

when you got to the compound, you found price waiting outside for you and you waggled the bag of food at him. he let you in, guiding you through the halls to where simon and the others were.

‘try not to forget it, next time,’ you told simon. he gave you a small grunt, one that sounded like his ‘thank you’.

soap walked up to you, giving you a cheeky grin and swinging his arm around your shoulder. ‘how’s it been, lass?’ he asked you and you shook his arm off.

‘you know it’s not the 80’s anymore, right?’ he blinked at you. snorting softly with an eye roll, you sat down in the nearest chair. ‘mullets back in style, you know. might fit you better,’ you commented.

soap was left with his mouth open, gesturing faintly to you then to simon. ‘she can’t be like you,’ he nearly hissed.

‘don’t act so surprised, she said damn near the same thing to me,’ price lamented, thinking back on his first time meeting you.

‘you from the 1800’s? christ, i haven’t seen anyone willingly have that beard,’ you’d told him oh so long ago.

you looked around, leaning towards him. ‘who else am i supposed to be like? i’m pretty sure he’s my father,’ you hissed back.

all soap could do was blink. a little ghost? no, he couldn’t believe it. he saw simon give you a little fist bump, almost saw a few dollars being passed between you two.

simon pulled his mask off to eat and you looked at him closely. ‘you get a haircut?’ you asked, squinting your eyes suspiciously.

‘nope,’ he responded. ‘got ‘em all cut,’ and you snorted a short laugh. soap couldn’t do much but watch the interaction, realization slowly settling in.

‘that’s why you tell those shitty jokes?’ he announced. ‘you’re actually a father telling dad jokes,’

you gave a little smile and he could see the admiration in your eyes. god, you were just like your father but the confidence came off of you so easily.

‘yknow he came to my parents job show and tell once,’ you told everyone and simon stared at you. almost daring you to finish. ‘he didn’t take the mask off and had to leave, he scared too many of the kids,’

you spoke so fondly of him.

‘but he’s a prick, so he just left,’ simon lightly kicked your leg and you made a big show of it. you might be his kid, but you had your own personality in there.

and simon would be dead before anyone took that from you.

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part four

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ words: 1k

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens.

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out.

You’d like to say you could understand everything that was happening but you had not even a small clue. You sat in the big house with your bag in hand while the two adults argue over you.

“I forbid her to leave, she’s not hera’s child,” you sink back while Mr.d points his finger at you, “she belongs here, with me.”

The god fought for you to stay with him, he kept you happy and feed, even made you smile. All for someone else to claim you? It made his blood boil and you could see it on his face as he shouts.

“She’s been claimed and even if we don’t understand, it is how things have to be.” Chiron sounded disappointed but stern. Of course he would stay up for you, like he always does. He hated for you to leave but you wanted so badly to leave them and have friends and he could understand.

“Mr.d,” you step forward to the god, “I’ll make you a promise.”

“And what’s that kid?” He hated how he spoke to you but he was just too heated that he could banish everyone kid from camp.

“I’ll come visit and play cards with you every week?” You try and bargain your time, even when the thoughts made your bones tighten at thinking of being stuck like that again.

He looked down at you with a suspicious glare while he thought it over. He didn’t have a choice but that didn’t mean he liked it. So finally he let out a breath and agreed while rushing off and mumbling under his breath.

The next stop you had was weirder.

The cabin was dark and empty. Cold and you could feel your spine shiver at the lack of heat. You glanced around but found no furniture to even sit on. No one was supposed to sleep here. Hera had no half-blood offsprings because unfaithfulness was not her way, and yet here you stand being claimed by her. And something tells you all the gods had something to do with it. Mr. D seemed to be more jealous when he spoke about the queen of gods. Like she was unworthy to have you.

“I suppose we’ll be needing to fetch some essentials for your new home.” Chiron tried to sound happy.

“Don’t worry,” you hold up your arms that carried pillows as far as you can with a reassuring smile, “I’ll survive.” and truth be told your bed was the one thing you would miss about staying there.

You find yourself walking up to the firepit and staring up at the statue of hera holding her staff. The way her eyes looked…you felt calm, but almost afraid of what it would be like to look in the real ones. She wasn’t someone to mess with while even her husband feared her wrath.

“So, Chiron?” You ask. You continue to stare up at the stone goddess. “Do you know why she claimed me.” there wasn’t much hope he’d share his insight. the centaur kept quiet for a second to consider his next words wisely.

“Just as clueless to me. Maybe we’ll get some information in the morning after a goodnight sleep.” Just as you thought. Not a peep from him.

You nod and turn around and place everything you had on the floor which wasn’t much but you were glad you had all you did. Chiron handed you the blankets with a smile on his face and for a minute it looked like he was going to cry while he looked at you.

So you open your arms wide and pull him into a hug, or what you could reach and he chuckles deeply and pats your head. In all his years you were his favorite to ever walk into this camp and to guide you. To him, camp was nothing without you.

You settled in quickly while unpacking what you could to make you feel at home. You had two blankets, one on the floor and pillows on top and the other over yourself. You tried to pick a place to the fire without burning up or being too cold.

And for the first time you were all alone to your own thoughts.

“Pst” a hushed whisper called out from no where. The voice startled you as you jump forward and grab ahold of the nearest thing, your old book.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a camper.” The voice had no body to go along with it making you confused. Was it one of Apollos children? Whoever they were they didn’t belong here.

“Says the person who stays hidden.”

The person in question lets out a laugh and then you see a figure appearing out of no where. A blue cap was the first thing you notice as they move their hand down with it grasped. A girl with a orange camp shirt, pretty eyes and blonde hair twisted into a braid.

“You grab a book to hurt me? Almost seems like you know me.” She smirked amusingly.

She had been watching you since you arrived at camp two years ago when she could, she grew to now you like no one else did. And now you’re out and into the camp with her she couldn’t let you walk without keeping a eye on you. You arrived with percy, another person she needed to watch so it was easy.

“What’s you name?” You ask the mysterious girl.

“Annabeth, consider me your guide from now on.” She walked further and stood above you. Her wicked smile seemed off just like everyone else you have seen.

“What cabin are you from? I heard some kids saying Apollos kids-” she cut you off by waving the hat in her hand.

“Athena.” You nod.

“And you’ll need me.” You tilted your head at her words and arched your brows. Need her? What was she talking about.

“For what? I mean I’m glad to have a friend but..” taking a deep breath as her eyes glint with something almost dangerous.

“For capture of the flag.”

Taglist: @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm @anonymouslyawesome25 @orionspaperwork @a-cat-loverr @Ilpovi @eatmyassfictionalstyle @theanklebiter-blog @nasyu-kookies

[bad268]

Heyy I love your Kimi fics so I decided to send you in a request. I wanted something simples of their life’s as teenagers with very different livings yk. Maybe compilation of different moments of them together such as: she is on school brake so goes to a race with him, he keeps her secret of course but as just an excuse to pass more time together. Or maybe a glimpse of their nightly routine when they get to be together, like ordering food because any of them trusts the other with the stove and then getting ready to bed and just cuddle. Or also like they want to pass time together but she has a test (they probably study in the same school but Kimi just doesn’t care anymore) and he is simply laid in her bed reviewing his data from racing while she is in her desk studying. I think you understood the idea, just some cute fluff of two teens in love. Use your amazing creativity as much as you want, I’ve read a lot of your fanfics and I trust you I’ll make justice to a cute fluff. I hope you enjoy my idea.

Just A Glimpse (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (hehe this was fun to do)

Warnings: ADHD mentioned, talks about smacking pasta if that makes you uncomfortable (i guess)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1109

Summary: Just a glimpse into the life of Kimi and you.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your relationship started back when neither of you knew what love was. Back when you were naive 16-year-olds, you and Kimi connected because you were from the same area. Back then, Bologna, Italy was not the biggest area, and you two clung together like magnets. It became a running joke when he came back to racing after a midseason break, glued to his phone, that he found someone. 

That someone was you.

As your relationship progressed, you tried to be at as many races as possible, but when he first made the jump from FRECA to Formula 2, then Formula 1 at age 18, it wasn’t that easy. You were just starting in university, and it was already difficult to attend the 14 race weekends. Never mind the 25 they were making F1 drivers do. Still, you tried your best, and Kimi was always supportive of your ambitions.

He also tried his best to keep you hidden, Sure, he talked about you here and there, but he never named you and never posted you. He wanted you to have the privacy to do your school work in peace without being bombarded by fans. You two decided you would probably announce your relationship when you finished your degree. If you decided to continue higher after that, you’d either do it online or suffer with the newfound attention. Granted, your accounts were private, but you still knew the fans would spam you somehow.

One of your favorite things to do is hide away in Kimi’s driver’s room. It was a common occurrence that you would be studying while Kimi was preparing for a race. More often than not, you would be sat on the couch studying or working on assignments while Kimi is either reviewing data or stretching and getting ready for a session. On the rare chance Kimi had nothing to do, he would ask you a million and one questions about your work.

“What’s this essay about?” “That looks difficult.” “Didn’t you just finish a project for that class?” “That seems a bit much for a basic class.” Those were some of the things he would say whenever he looked over your shoulder as you skimmed anything on your computer. His interest always gave you new motivation to keep going.

Another favorite for you was the nights between races. The nights when neither of you had anything to do other than be with each other. Sometimes you would force Kimi to do face masks with you (skin care is essential!), sometimes you two would try to cook, sometimes you would just cuddle, and in the event you do all three, all hell breaks loose. 

“Stop moving so much,” You hissed annoyed that this boy could not sit still for the life of him and let you put the mask on. You had already struggled enough trying to get all of his curly hair back, but now he was flinching away every time you tried to put the product on his skin. “I swear, you have ADHD.”

“It’s cold, and I don’t like it. This one feels weird,” He groaned but stopped moving and let you do your thing. “Why do we need to do the slimy one? Can we just use the clay one again?”

“Your skin needs hydration, not help with the texture,” You explained as you laid the mask across his features. “Your face is inflamed and the clay mask will just make it worse. This one would actually benefit you.”

“I better get cuddles after this,” He mumbled as you finished up by washing your hands. Your mask had already been applied.

“After we make dinner, you can get all the cuddles you want,” You compromised, thinking dinner would not take too long to make. It was a new pasta recipe you got from Kimi’s nutritionist, and Kimi is Italian. What could go wrong? Those were your famous last words.

“Stop smacking the dough! The flour isn’t mixed right!” You shouted, but it was no use. Kimi walked straight up behind you and smacked the dough pile again just after you added more flour. This caused a cloud of flour to hit the two of you directly in the face. “ANDREA!”

“Oh no,” He muttered after he blew out the flour and went to wipe his face, but his hands got covered in the face mask he still had on. “Oh no.”

“‘Oh no’,” You mocked as you gaped at him. “What did I just say?”

“Stop smacking it,” He tried to sound serious and apologetic, but the smile on his face told that he was amused by the situation. 

“And what did you do?”

“Smacked it.”

“What did you learn?”

“Stop smacking pasta when you’re mixing it.”

That was it. You both couldn't help it as you both started laughing.

You made Kimi clean up the kitchen after you both washed off the floury face masks. You told him that since he got you into that mess, he could clean it up. While he did that, you called and ordered your favorite takeaway. You did not trust Kimi in the kitchen anymore. You went to pick it up, and when you came back, Kimi had cleaned the kitchen and set up a blanket fort in the common room. You chuckled to yourself as you walked up to the opening of the fort, but Kimi blocked you from entering. 

“What’s the password?” Kimi smirked as he only exposed his head and would not let you see inside.

“Is it Italian or English?” You countered.

“To make it easy, I’ll accept English,” Kimi teased as he watched you think.

“Hmm, the password has to be, ‘I bought dinner, and if you want to eat tonight, you better let me in.’ Is that right?”

“Actually, it was ‘I love you’ but I’ll take it.”

The inside of the fort was more than you expected. Kimi had moved the TV down, so it fit inside. There were pillows and blankets everywhere, and your favorite drinks were in an ice bucket to the side. You were impressed he was able to get this all done while you were picking up the food.

“How did you get this done? I wasn’t gone that long,” You asked skeptically as you sat down and looked around.

“You walk slow,” Kimi joked, but immediately after, the door slammed closed and someone texted Kimi.

“I better get credit for helping,” It read from Ollie. You looked over at Kimi who was smiling sheepishly at you.

“Want to comment on that?”

“No, not really.”

That’s just a little glimpse into the life of you and Kimi.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[simpcityy]

I'm Not Her Pt.2 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel… Uhhh I think that is all for now.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

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

You woke up to the smell of bacon being cooked. Odd? Who is cooking if no one is home. Sitting up from your bed, you glanced at the time seeing it was 10am. Walking out of the room the smell of bacon got stronger. In front of you was your father Miguel cooking breakfast. You quickly rubbed your eyes wanting to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Buenos días, cariño*” Miguel glances back at you hearing the creek of the floorboards. You only stood there in shock. He’s home for once and calling you with love and affection. “I…Um…good morning?” You finally replied back sitting down on the chair slowly. He placed a plate in front of you and took a seat across from you. “(Y.N) …Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre*.” He began. “I know I left you all on your own, but I have to man up and fix my mistakes.” He looks at you before slowly holding your hand “and I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll try my best.” He smiles before slowly releasing your hand. You only stood there stunned thinking about it. Did Lyla talk to him? Did Peter? So many thoughts were running around your head before letting out a sigh. “I …what made you have a change of heart…you know that yesterday was my- “he cuts you off, “I know it was your birthday and I’m sorry” he pulls out a box from under the table. You were so shocked about this new side of your dad that you didn’t even see the box when you sat down. “Happy Late Birthday “he smiles, sliding the box towards you. You slowly open it inside before gasping seeing the latest technology you’ve always wanted. You dug your hand till it hit the bottom and saw a ticket to your favorite concert. “How did you know I wanted this? I always begged you to let me see this singer, but you wouldn’t hear me out…I…” you are feeling so many emotions. “I told you I was going to try my best to fix this” he smiles before letting out a grunt as you tackle him into a hug “thank you! Thank you!” You chanted. Miguel only lets out a small smile rubbing your back affectionately. You let him go and walked to the top cabinet grabbing a glass to fill. “let’s have breakfast before you head to work “you smile enjoying this small moment with him. Maybe your wish did come true, to stop feeling alone. 

You walked down the halls of your high school. It was going to be your last year and you promised your friends you were going to make it a blast. Humming out a song you unlocked your locker. “Hey boo you’re in a much better mood.” Lyla appeared inside your locker snapping a selfie with you. “Glad you’re here, did you talk to my dad?” You asked her while collecting the items you’ll need on this day. “ wha? No, I didn’t. Why do you ask?” She looks at the selfie editing it. “He came home and made breakfast. He also got me tickets for the concert.” You smile enthusiastically looking at the AI. Lyla watches you “he did?” She was concerned, if she remembered correctly…Miguel was at the base this morning working but then again, he did slip out for a moment so maybe that’s where he went. Lyla only smiles “I’m so glad boo! Maybe Peter talked with him?” You nodded “I was thinking the same. Alright, I got to go Lyla.” You closed the locker going on to continue your education. Lyla stood in the pitch dark of the locker in deep thought “I’ll have to talk to Miguel” she mutters before disappearing. 

School for once was a day you enjoyed, maybe it has to do with the fact you're slowly getting your father back. You’ll have to thank Peter once you get the chance to visit the Society HQ. You start to wonder what made him realize he has a daughter here. All this thinking made you hungry, spotting your favorite empanada stand. You walked over and got in line. ‘Maybe I’ll order extra to bring home’ you thought before smiling, giving your order to the kind old lady. Once you reached home, you closed the door behind you. “Are you home?” You call out placing the bag on the table. “Ya has vuelto de la escuela*?” Miguel emerges from the kitchen door. He glances at the bag. “Y eso?” He walked over looking into the box. “ I got you some empanadas” You smile before letting it falter seeing him sniff the bag. His face of disgust was present, “I’m not hungry, you eat it.” He quickly replaces the face of disgust into a smile. Something wasn’t right here, he loved empanadas. He would never reject it. “But it’s your favorite?” You sat down and grabbed a couple for yourself. Miguel grabs a glass of water, his back turned to you. He panicked for a bit before adding on, “Yes but I think I ate too many last time that it just makes me dislike it” He walks over rubbing your head, “It will go away and I’ll go back to liking them okay?” He pressed his lips to the side of your head before sitting down next to you. “Cómo fue tu día en la escuela*?” He asked. You only nodded taking his excuse before smiling, feeling his lip on the side of your head. “ It went well!” You ate the empanada while telling him how your day went. 

Lyla stood behind Miguel watching him work away. “Hey Miguel” She appears in front of him. “Quick question” Miguel looks up at her and only grunts telling her to go on. “That was nice of you to get (Y/N) tickets to the concert” She sits on his shoulder waiting for his response. His answer only made her glitch and worried for you.

“What tickets?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Authors Note: Thank you so much! Your comments and likes made me see how this NEEDED to be a series. I'm still working on the other two projects hopefully next week I'll be able to complete the series for Location Status. So, I can focus on my other projects. Sorry for any grammar on the first part, I was using a tablet and it was all new to me. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 66💕) Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Please reblog so others can be aware of my works! ILY 💕

Spanish Translation: (Remember some have double meaning or similar meaning) 1. “Buenos días, cariño: Good Morning Sweetie 2. Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre: Listen, I know I'm not the best father (Dad) 3. Ya has vuelto de la escuela: Are you back from school? 4. Y eso: And that or whats that? 5. Cómo fue tu día en la escuela: How was your day at school?

[redstarwriting]

bestie | hobie’s version

black cat!fem! reader becoming besties with Hobie

request?: yes LMAO

request: continuation of my original fic “bestie”

requested by: literally everyone omg

word count: 2.8k

genre: platonic and chaotic

warnings:  language, stealing, monarchy slander, mentions of homelessness, knives, a sword

a/n: ok y’all, i thought of a way to continue this post as a series. maybe i’ll make a ‘bestie’ masterlist? 

───────────────────────────────────

The friendship between you and Hobie formed fast. So fast. Faster than Miguel expected, even. You and Hobie literally became best friends immediately. He fucked with your attitude, which you knew already, but when he learned what you do? Best friends. “So, let me get this right, mate, you’re a global superstar—”

“Yep.”

“But you steal from the rich—”

“Mhm.”

“And you give to the poor—”

“Right.”

“Like some kinda famous Robin Hood?”

“Precisely,” you nod and he raises an eyebrow at you. The two of you are chilling in your penthouse apartment in a building that you own. He’s mindlessly strumming on his guitar, looking out at Nueva York from your balcony/rooftop, and questioning you. He thinks you’re cool, but he can’t help but be weary of sitting in such an expensive place. “Love the sentiment, really do, but ain’t bein’ a superstar… counteractive to all ‘at?” you shrug. “The majority of my money goes back to charities. I keep some of it, obviously, but I prefer giving back.” You lean back against a chair. “Besides. I grew up with nothing and basically no one. Feels kinda nice having a place like this.” “I guess, but donthca think buyin’ the ‘ole buildin’ was a bit overkill?” “No, actually. I pay for everything in this building and let homeless kids and teens in need, like me at that age, live in the rest of it free of charge,” you explain, taking a sip of your water. He stops strumming his guitar. “‘Scuse me?” you look over at him to see him staring at you with a look of disbelief in his eyes. You chuckle. “Don’t look so shocked. I like giving back, that’s the least I could do. Besides, I have a soft spot for kids being on the streets like that. No child deserves to suffer like that,” you explain and he shakes his head. As someone who was homeless as a child and well into his teenage years, hearing you say that actually makes him respect you loads more. “You should talk to some of the rich assholes in my world. Talk some sense into ‘em,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Rich people are inherently assholes.”

“You’re rich.”

“And I’m inherently an asshole. Self-awareness is key, Hobart,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Not like ‘em assholes, though. They parade ‘round their wealth, pretendin’ the citizens in the city ain’t dyin’, starvin’… always stickin’ the pigs on us like we ain’t worth nothin’,” he mumbles, and you frown. “They’re lucky they have someone like you to stand up to them,” you say, and he nods. “Bloody right. ’s what I do. But there’s always a new person who gets in the way after I take down the first one,” he sighs, beginning to pick at the strings of his guitar again. You hum in agreeance. “Heard you bashed Norman Osborn’s head in with that guitar.”

“I did. It was bloody brilliant. But ‘en, after ‘im, these new Nazis showed up. Don’t even get me started on the new fuckin’ PM now,” he groans, and you shake your head. “Governments are ass. And I come from a non-monarchy. Can’t even imagine what yours is like,” you mumble and he frowns. “After I got rid of Norman, the new Prime Minister stepped in. Got rid a’ one evil and gave another one a open invitation.”

“At least you got rid of one of them. You’ll get the other one in time.”

“As much as I want ‘at to be true, I got the crown to worry ‘bout. Spewin’ all their rubbish to everyone, distractin’ ‘em all from the real issues goin’ on with their fancy jewels and blood money,” he stopped playing again, using his hands to show his disgust to you. “Jewels, you say? Money?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes. “Is ‘at all ya got from ‘at, ya bloody klepto,” he asks, and you shrug. “Not all. Large portion. What do you say we fuck with them?” you suggest, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “And ‘ow d’you reckon we do ‘at?”

“Well, I, for one, am partial to the jewels and money you mentioned,” you grin at him, and he cocks his head to the side. “You wanna steal the crown jewels? Mate, I ‘ate to break it to ya but it’s not just one jewel. Or money. It’s a collection of shit.”

“And? You act like I’m a beginner at this shit,” you say, snorting and finishing your water. He smirks. “Serious?”

“Would I ever joke about making rich assholes panic?” you grin, taking your sweatshirt off to reveal your catsuit. You slip on your gloves and wink at him. “Let’s go, mate,” you imitate his accent and he jumps up, opening the portal to his world. “You got a plan?” he asks as the two of you enter, and you shrug. “Not necessarily, but they won’t even know I’m there.”

“Cocky, ain’t we?” Hobie teases and you giggle, shrugging. “I’m good at what I do.” “The jewels are protected. And on display. Dunno ‘ow you plan to get ‘em, but I’m excited to see it ‘appen,” he says as you step foot in his flat. You grin. “I have my ways. I say we hit it when it’s like 2am. Which luckily for us is in… right now, actually.”

“Ain’t this late gonna be expected?”

“Yes. I love a challenge,” you smirk and he shakes his head. “You’re mental.”

“But you like it.”

“Love it. No one ever actually wants to do shit like this with me,” he says and you shake your head. “Can’t imagine why. This is about to be so fun,” you smirk, and he nods, giving you a fist bump. “So just ‘ow are wee expectin’ this to go down? Am I meant to come inside with ya?,” he asks and you shrug. “Didn’t expect you to, honestly. Figured you’d be distracting the cops so I can get in there anyways,” you explain and he nods. “I can do ‘at. If I’m lurkin’ round the guards’ll ‘ave a fit.”

“Your accent gets thicker when you’re home, how is that even possible?” you say your thoughts out loud, and he rolls his eyes. “What is it with all of you and my accent. ’s just the way I talk,” he grumbles, and you laugh. “Because you get so annoyed by it. At least that’s why I do it,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No wonder Miguel ‘ates you.”

“Hey! He doesn’t hate me! He just strongly disapproves of all of my life choices and urges me not to speak to him most of the time,” you feign offense, and Hobie holds his hands up in surrender. “Now, where are these jewels held?” you ask looking out at the city through his window. He looks out, pulling his mask on. “Tower of New London. They moved the most important pieces overseas so the new Queen could ‘ave a second coronation over ‘ere. ‘ave ‘em on display for the public to see. Make money off it,” he explains and you scoff. “That’s fucking stupid. Are you sure they’re real?”

“Oh, yeah. No doubt. Like I said, they love flauntin’ their wealth,” he says, and you grimace. “Gross. Can’t wait to take them,” you say with a smirk. “Need a lift, love?” he asks, holding his arm out for you to grab onto him. “Would love one, mate, thanks for offering.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and he grips onto you. He jumps out of his window, webbing to the New Tower of London which looks a bit out of place in the cityscape belonging to New London, but you can see why they hold the jewels here. “It’s like a small castle,” you mumble, and Hobie nods. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ ‘ow everythin’ ‘as to be so over the top,” he says as the two of you land in an alleyway across the street, hidden in the shadows. You scope out the place. “You weren’t kidding. Guards are everywhere,” you mumble and he nods. You point to a part of the castle that isn’t well-lit, a wall on the side of one of the watch towers. “We can climb that,” you say, and he nods. “Time to go make the wankers freak,” he says, and the two of you sneak over. The two of you scale the wall of the walkway surrounding the main part of the tower undetected, making your way to the wall you pointed out earlier. You use your claws to climb up while Hobie uses his spider powers.

You hoist yourself up onto one of the platforms, ducking down and hiding behind a wall to figure out what your next move is. Hobie was right beside you. “I think… this might be where we part,” you whisper, and he nods. “Don’t die, yeah? Lotta paperwork I don’t feel like doin’,” he says before swinging away to distract the guards. You scoff. You watch as guards run off in the direction he was spotted in and make your move. You run to the wall of the next building, climbing it and hiding from the guards on the top of the roof. You quickly sneak to the other side of the roof, only to see that the middle of the castle is connected to nothing. “So that’s why they call it a fucking tower,” you mumble, scaling down the side of the wall and into the grassy lawn.

You assess the situation. You know there are guards in those watchtowers, but that would probably be the easiest and most efficient way for you to get in. You just need them to be distracted enough for you to run across the lawn and over to one of them. As if on cue, you hear Hobie play a chord. Loudly. You smile to yourself. Perfect.

You sprint across the lawn, being sure to stay as shrouded by shadow as you can, and luckily for you multiple guards are on edge and running to wear the guitar noise came from. You hear them calling Hobie some… choice words and chuckle. He’ll be so happy to know they hate him so much. You quickly start to scale up the watchtower, looking out just in case a guard might see you.

You were in the clear.

You reach the top, quietly peering into the tower, and see a guard looking out of the opposite window. You climb through the window you’re in front of, not making a sound, before sneaking past the guard. You quietly hurry down the stairs, and peer through a large archway. You search for cameras, pulling out your small throwing knives to break them if needed. You spot two, hitting them with deadly correct aim. You scoff, sneaking out and making your way to some large double doors. They’re locked, of course, so you use your claws. You pick the lock, quietly pushing it open and slipping through. Sure enough, your intuition was right, and now you’re in the room with probably billions or trillions of dollars. You glance around to see if there are any guards inside the room. None. Strange. “Come to mama,” you mumble, taking out a vial of chalk dust and blowing it. Yep. Lasers. That’s fine.

You start crawling, flipping, and sliding your way through the lasers, collecting a few gemstones, a staff, an all-gold orb with a crown on it, a giant fucking diamond, and finally, a purple crown endowed with gold and jewels. You collect them one by one, placing them in a bag you have laying where the lasers start. You shake your head. Relying on lasers is never a good idea for people trying to protect their things. For you? Amazing. You sneak back out, closing the door and glancing around. You hear the faint noise of screams and an electric guitar. Hobie’s still got them distracted. Good.

You run up the way you came. This was almost too easy, but then again, you are skilled at what you do. Too bad your dumbass forgot there was a guard up here. “Oi!”

“Oh! Hi, there. If you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way,” you say, slinking towards a window. Unluckily for you, he pulls out a sword. Though he does have a gun, so… guess it could be worse? “I’m like, totally not telling you that I’d prefer the bullets… but why a sword when you have that?” you say as he takes a swipe at you and you dodge it. He doesn’t respond, and you frown. “I heard you speak earlier, bro. I know you can,” you backflip away from him, tossing the jewels to the side and getting ready to fight. “Seems a little… redundant, you know? Like why even carry a gun if you’re not gonna use it.”

“Pipe down, cow,” he growls as you continue dodging his attacks. “Well, now, that just wasn’t very nice. Clearly, no one has ever raised you to treat women with respect,” you say, using your claws to catch the sword in your hands. His eyes widen as you yank the sword away from him. You kick him in the side of the head, disorienting him before swiping his legs out from underneath him. He falls down, hard, and you stick a loose part of his uniform with his sword into the bricks below him. “Would love to stick around and chat, but I have some jewels to sell.” You wave, picking up your bag and leaping out of the window, using your claws to slide down the wall. You sprint across the lawn, being careful to stay in the shadows, and make your way back out to the wall you and Hobie climbed earlier. You lay low, hoping that Hobie can deduct you’re done and give you a quick getaway, but it’s never that easy. You slide down the wall again, hearing the commotion of the guards starting to race around and search the perimeter, so you stay hidden. You make your way back across the street and into the alley that you and Hobie were in earlier. You send him a quick message on your watch before climbing up one of the buildings.

You watch as across the street chaos ensues. And you smirk to yourself knowing that you have the riches of a family that never deserved them. You hear a familiar voice screaming, “What?! Ya didn’t like the show! I played jus’ for you bloody lot, ’n ‘is is ‘ow ‘m repaid?!”

You shake your head as Hobie lands next to you, pulling you behind the door that leads into the building the two of you are on top of. “We should definitely run,” you say, waving the bag towards him and he nods. “Right,” he says, pulling you into him and webbing away again. You lose the guards, and he quickly ducks into his flat. You roll into the room whereas he lands perfectly, and there’s a silence that falls between the two of you. You turn your head to look at him and give him a big smile. “Think I can return any of this shit to the original owners?”

“What ‘ave you got?” he asks, dumping out the bag. He pulls his mask off, genuine shock on his face. “You got it all?!”

“I told you. I’m good at what I do,” you say, picking up the giant diamond. You gasp. “No fucking way. This is—”

“The Koh-I-Noor,” Hobie laughs, picking up the crown and inspecting it. “Bloody tosser wore this on ‘er ‘ead the other day. Now it’s in my ‘ands,” he smiles, tossing it to the side with no regard for caring for it. You hear the heavy gold thump on the ground and shake your head. “How much you think all this’ll go for?”

“Mate, this shit is priceless. I can’t wait to see the look on Pavitr’s face when we show ‘im you got the Kah-I-Noor,” Hobie shakes his head, and you grin. “Well, let’s get it back to my place, yeah? I can display it and the best part is these assholes here will never find any of it.”

“Lead the way, love.”

You enter through a portal into your home, typing a code into a painting that opens like a door. You allow Hobie to see your treasure room. He’s honestly kind of stunned. You have so many priceless artifacts in here. It’s impressive. “Mate. You are cool as fuck. Jus’ thought ya should know ‘at,” he mumbles, picking up an emerald the size of his head. You chuckle. “I know, Hobie. Now, let’s get this diamond to Pav, shall we?”

As soon as Miguel got the notification that there was disrupt in Hobie’s universe due to someone stealing the Crown Jewels, he had to take a walk.

He was stressed.

───────────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@noelsilly* @yunonaneko​

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Buddy Daddies x Delinquent Teen Reader (1)

You’re home was on the streets 

Practically abandoned by your parents, you relied on one of the local gangs for your family

Working to join them for some semblance of protection against the world

And as it would happen it helped 

Despite your teachers and guardian-having friends warning otherwise

Thanks to them you were eating

A far cry from what you were left to before

But past aside your doing well 

Gaining experience and becoming more of an asset to the gang before your saddled with an unlikely obstacle

“Hi there! My name’s Miri, what’s your name?”

Suddenly this bubbly smiley kid is following you around

Somehow finding you in dark alleyways and shadows of buildings 

This kid just won’t leave you alone 

No matter how much you reprimand, sneer, or blatantly insult this kid 

“Kid! Didn’t I tell you to kick rocks? Now if you don’t leave I’ll steal your shoes.”

“W-what, don’t take my shoes my papas got them for me!”

“Then. Leave. Me. Alone.”

she just won’t leave you alone and it all comes to a head when she approaches you when your with your friends

“Well well look at this little tyke!”

“Oh my gosh, they're so small! (Y/n) I didn’t know you had a baby sister!”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah! My name’s Miri.”

And despite your protests they all invite pressure Miri to join you all on a…midnight stroll

Along a train track

It goes as expected and your crew successfully go along the train track until you hear the dreaded sound of the train

And as it would have it Miri’s shoes get caught

“Is everyone off the tracks?”

“Whooo that was close!”

“Where’s Miri?”

Your group resigns to stand by and watch horrified as she struggles with the track and the oncoming train approaches 

Way too close to the train you’re able to yank Miri from the tracks narrowly missing the train hurling by

“Whoa that was clo–”

“See what happens?”

“What? What are you talk–”

“See what happens when you hang around me?!”

“W-what but I love be–”

“You! Almost died! Can’t you see?! You don’t belong here so GO! Go home before you really get hurt.”

She goes home that day with tears in her eyes

While you wordlessly turn back to your group to head back to base

hoping that you don’t see her ever again

For awhile you don’t and things are back to normal

And while you’re spray painting the gang’s sign on a wall a burly woman knocks you to the ground

“Hey watch it, punk!”

“You wanna go pipsqueak!”

Apparently she was from a rival gang, looking to contest this area

Sending a quick call to your team, you prepare to fight this lady 

Narrowly ducking her first punch 

You throw your own 

Standing victorious as she buckles 

But you too would fall to your knees

after a whopping hit in the back of your head

It was an ambush 

And easily you found yourself at their mercy 

Only being released when you hear the separate thuds and the released grip from your arms

“What the–ooomf!”

Your original attacker is silenced by a guy with blonde hair 

Who punches them into a headlock before pulling a gun with silencer

“H-hey-”

Before you could stop him he pulled the trigger, nonchalantly reaching to the sky in a stretch

“Ah man after so long it seems I’ve still got it!” 

You shakily stand holding your arm that stings in pain

You try to limp away while he continues flexing 

But he notices

“Ah ah! (Y/n) don’t run away!”

You sneered, “How do you know my name?”

“Uh…not important. But look, you need to come home with me! Miri misses-”

“Ugh are you Miri’s daddy or something?”

“Papa actually–” “Look old man, what I said to your kid is true. She needs to stay far away from me and you know what? Maybe you should try watching her better.”

“We did. And we were.”

The tired voice was right above you 

Close enough to your back that you could now register the warmth teeming off them

You jump, despite the pain you back away against the brick wall

The man that spoke had black hair pulled back to reveal a pale guy with a grave look on his face

“Ah-! What he means is: we’ve been watching after you and Mirin. And we’ve decided that we’re going to be the papas you need!”

“What?!”

“Ahem we’ve decided–” “You're coming with us.”

“What?! Huh?!”

“Rei! You can’t just say that they're not going to understand!” 

“They’ll understand better when we get them home.”

“No no but there’s a method for these things and with someone of their age–”

The blonde kept talking to the one identified as Rei seemingly dividing their attention

You took the chance to limp as far as you could away reaching into your pocket to retrieve your last line of defense

“That’s enough of that.”

In a flash of black your pocket knife was out of your hand

Briefly squealing in pain at the pressure point being hit near your neck

Slumping into Rei’s arms he moved to cradle you rolling his eyes at Kazuki’s musings

“Rei!? They obviously weren’t ready!”

“They would’ve never been ready.”

“But we did the whole save-them-be-the-saviors-routine!” 

“Does it really matter now that we have them?”

“...Mmmm….Mmmmm!...I still would’ve preferred my way.”

The sounds of tires screeching and the sound of modded engines coming to halt

Had them both perking up

“Oh! Those bad influences actually came!”

“That was unexpected. The broken brakes should have kept them busy.”

“Now here’s the question: do we handle them now or later?”

“Did you throw your back out yet?”

“Hah! Not yet, yours?”

“...”

“Then I say we give ‘em a show!”

When you next awake 

You’re in a well furnished room

All patched up and nursing a sling for your arm

Immediately you get up finding yourself at the top of the stairs before you spotted them

“Hiii (Y/n)!!!” “Ah, good morning (Y/n) did you sleep well?”

There words don’t reach you as you register the blonde man from before and the little girl who’d been following you around

Why were they acting so calm?

They kidnapped you!

And the little girl was in on it too?

“Welp, we're heading out for preschool.”

 “Yup bye (Y/n) later I can’t wait to cele–mmmf!”

The blonde’s hand goes over her mouth sending her to get her shoes before waving to you

“I’ll be back soon! Breakfast is on the counter!” 

Not long after they disappeared from sight you heard the slam of the door

Good now you can–

“Going to have breakfeast?”

Once again that voice rang from behind you

Turning to see the same man with the grave face but this time with scruffier-relaxed look to him

His eyes were still intense and they held you in place all the way to the kitchen 

While eating some regretfully delicious french toast with Rei watching diligently 

Guess this was your life now…the newest unwilling addition to the family

[dancingbirdie]

Continuation of my series "The Planets Bend Between Us" where I imagine how Astarion's aversion to intimacy and physical touch lessens as his relationship with Tav progresses.

Read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here!

Also find the series on Ao3 here.

Comments, reactions, and feedback always appreciated!

The Light In Us Both

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings/Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, vampire bites, blood drinking, non-sexual intimacy, no smut

Astarion was nearly convinced that bindings would be necessary to keep Tav still this evening. His lovely little wildling continued to fidget beneath him, giggling under her breath and squirming each time he drew close to her neck in an attempt to feed. 

They had been in the Underdark for over a week now. Viable options for “food” were scarce for him, and so Tav had graciously allowed him to drink from her each night in order to maintain his vigor. 

While she insisted she didn’t mind, that it wasn’t an encumbrance, he couldn’t help but notice the looks of disapproval and worry from other members of their party. It was difficult to ignore. They didn’t dare speak their misgivings aloud, though, for fear of Tav’s fierce rebuke that would inevitably follow. 

Astarion loved the duality of his ferocious little darling. She was hot-tempered, demanding and fiery with nearly everyone and everything she came across. Everyone else in the party treated her as the de facto leader. She had even managed to earn the respect of Lae’zel. 

But with Astarion, she was as harmless as a newborn kitten. She joked with him. Teased. Flirted. She was pliant, like clay in his hands. One knowing look from him, and he could watch as she instantly calmed. He wasn’t sure how he’d come to tame such a hellcat, but it gave him immense pleasure, and pride, to be the only person who could call forth that side of her. Him. Astarion.

But tonight, however, he was just about at his wit’s end with her. Tav could not remain still despite his insistences. He even went so far as to describe the embarrassment they’d both share if they had to wake Shadowheart up at this time of night to repair Tav’s lacerated throat because she couldn’t stop squirming. 

Nothing seemed to work. 

“You know, darling, this little exercise of ours is made much more easy when you hold still,” Astarion whispered, a little exasperated, in her ear. 

Tav giggled. His breath against the shell of her ear tickled. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll try to behave.”

“Mm, see that you do.” 

He nuzzled at her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, prolonging the temptation of her blood just a moment longer. His hand ghosted up her waist to rest against her lower ribs. He opened his mouth, lips lightly brushing her skin. His fangs were a hair’s breadth away from sinking into her when, suddenly, a fit of laughter bubbled from her between her lips. 

He pulled back to glare at her, squeezing her waist in reproach. At his expression, she broke out in peals of laughter. He made to sit up, obviously affronted, but her hand clutched his nightshirt tighter, preventing him. 

“Tsk. You daft thing,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Honestly, have the Myconid spores gone to your head?” 

She continued to chuckle. “Astarion, I’m sorry, but I’m ticklish.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your hand. On my ribs. It tickled,” she explained. “I couldn’t help it.” 

“You’ve never had this issue before,” he replied, dubious.

“Because normally you’re holding onto my arm. Or my shoulder,” she quipped, her laughter finally quieting. 

“I see,” he murmured, mulling over her words, his expression thoughtful. 

“I’ve upset you,” Tav responded soberly, finally taking stock of the fact that Astarion hadn’t found the situation nearly as humorous as she had. “I really am sorry. I’ll keep still this time. Promise. Just maybe don’t touch me around the ribs.”

He observed her quietly a moment more. Tav couldn’t decipher what thoughts were percolating behind his expression. But then his lips curved into a sly smile. 

“So, to be clear, what you’re saying is, that if I touch you here,” he began casually, his hand tracing light swirls across her ribs. The skin of her arms and neck immediately broke out into gooseflesh. She mashed her lips together to keep from giggling once more, squirming slightly under Astarion’s touch.

“...it’s especially ticklish for you?” he finished, looking up at her in mock innocence. 

Tav could sense a game was afoot. And she hated losing. Clenching her teeth together, willing herself to keep still, she managed a slight nod. 

“I see,” Astarion said seriously. “And what about if I do this?” he asked before leaning down to blow lightly against the shell of her delicately pointed ear. 

Tav squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything else besides the urge to laugh and sidle away from him. 

“Oh my,” he intoned. “Seems like that’s dangerous territory as well.”

Tav opened her eyes, taking in the full devilish grin that graced Astarion’s mouth. He was enjoying this. She glared at him.

“All right, all right,” he placated. “But purely for my own edification,” he continued. “Is this off limits as well?” 

And before she could jerk away, he began tickling her outright. Swinging a leg over her hips to pin her down, his hands were everywhere across her ribs, her soft stomach, and under her arms. 

Tav shrieked with laughter, too distracted by Astarion’s onslaught to keep her voice down. Her hands chased his, attempting to grab them, but he was far too quick. She switched tactics then, bucking her hips in an effort to knock him off of her. But, try as she might, he stayed firmly situated atop her. Above the din of her own noise, she made out his own peals of laughter. 

He sounded utterly carefree. Playful. Filled with joy. 

“I give! I give!” she squealed finally. 

“COULD YOU TWO PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN?!” they heard Shadowheart suddenly shout from across the camp. “SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO REST.”

Grumbles of assent from around the camp floated up after her. 

“SORRY,” Tav shouted with equal fervor, grinning like mad at Astarion. “I’LL TRY SUFFERING IN SILENCE IN THE FUTURE.”

“MUCH APPRECIATED,” Shadowheart returned. 

Astarion rolled his eyes and sighed. “Killjoys, all of them.”

Tav chuckled. Still smiling up at him, she raised her hands in mock surrender. 

“You win, Astarion,” she whispered.

He huffed a laugh as he clasped her hands between his. He bent over to kiss the tops of her fingers lovingly before lifting off of her and lying back down at her side. 

“And what should be my reward, for winning so spectacularly?” he returned quietly, resting a palm against her cheek.

Tav turned her face to kiss his palm before arching her neck, giving him a meaningful smile. 

“I promise to hold still this time,” she teased. 

Astarion chuckled, slipping his hand down her cheek, her jaw, her collarbone. He stopped at her shoulder, clutching it lightly. He lifted himself up so that he could position his mouth precisely against the column of her neck. 

But before he bit down, he pressed a kiss against her neck. It was reverent. Worshipful almost. Tav fought back a shiver, holding good on her promise to remain still. 

When his fangs finally sank into her skin, it was with a gentleness far greater than Astarion had ever shown before. Tav felt only the slightest prick of pain before the icy numbness began to spread under her skin. For the first time since she’d agreed to let him feed on her, the act felt like something other than a means to satiate him. It felt akin to the intimacy she had felt when they had been together that first time, in the moonlit forest following their victory party with the tieflings. They were joined together, even if it wasn’t in the same way as then. 

She hummed contentedly as he continued to drink her in. One hand against his scalp, she combed her fingers through his hair with the devotion of a supplicant. Her other arm lifted to wrap around his waist, rubbing his lower back in slow, measured strokes. 

He groaned softly at the feeling of her embrace. Whether she had meant it to be or not, her caresses were a subtle reminder to withdraw before he took too much of her. Extracting his fangs from her neck, Astarion licked softly at the blood welling from the two puncture marks he’d left in her skin. 

Taking her blood was the nearest thing to a religious experience he had ever had. She tasted holy. As if one drop alone could absolve him of all his past sins. 

“Finished already?” she asked. Her vocal cords vibrated against his lips. A delightful thrum. 

“Mm, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop if I go any longer,” he murmured against her skin. 

She hummed again in acknowledgement. 

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known,” he whispered, planting one last kiss on her neck before rolling off of her. 

“Only for you,” she replied, turning onto her side to face him. She placed her hand gently over his heart. “My star.”

He stilled in surprise. “Wh-what did you call me?”

“My star,” she intoned. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “That’s what your name means, you know. Star.”

Astarion just stared at her, too shocked to speak. Her words had shaken something loose in the back of his mind. Something from long ago. A memory perhaps. Or a memory of a memory. It was so dusty, it was hard to tell. 

Someone else had called him “my star” once. Her face was blurry in his mind’s eye, but she seemed beautiful. Regal, even. And her voice - it was a faint echo, but it sounded so sincere. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He heard Tav’s voice drawing him back from the recesses of his mind. He blinked once, twice, before refocusing on the woman in his arms. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to upset you by calling you that.”

“No… you didn’t. Not at all,” he assured. “I… I think you caused me to remember something… My… my mother used to call me ‘my star,’ I think.” 

“You remembered your mother?” Tav asked, hopeful.

“Barely. It was like peering through fog. But yes… I think I did,” he paused, reflecting. 

Tav remained silent, giving him time to process what he had recalled. 

Finally after a few moments, he squeezed her waist and grinned. Her breath caught in her throat at his expression. 

It was open. Boyish. Happy. 

Quick as a flash, he leaned forward to press a light kiss against her lips. It was chaste. The kind of kiss a man would give the woman he was courting. It was over before she knew it, but still, it felt wonderful. Like another wall had fallen down around his heart. She felt honored to witness it. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, clutching her close to him as they settled down to sleep. “Thank you.”

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | November 11th-17th 2024

Just an FYI, I have an account over at BlueSky at epicficrecs!

Also!! I just passed 300 different fic writers and podficcers recced since the beginning of this blog! 🥳 thank you all for your hard work and your invaluable contributions to this fandom!

Complete

indulgence by coldbam/ @coldbam (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together, PWP | 1K | Explicit): “Okay. I’ll be right back.” Eddie gets off the couch, leaning down to collect their empties from the table, putting himself right into Buck’s line of sight, eyes catching on— “Oh,” Buck says, as his finger connects to the back of Eddie’s right thigh. He didn’t even register moving, but he sees it right in front of him. He forces his hand back to his own body. “I’ve never seen that before,” he continues, referring to the small dark splotch on Eddie’s skin that’s transfixed him. It’s just—there’s not a lot that Buck doesn’t know about Eddie by now. Not a lot he hasn’t seen.

Clarity by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 1,7K | Explicit): As soon as they kissed, a thousand things had fallen into place—jokes and shoulder bumps and wordless exchanges, movies and zoo trips and engine rides spend thigh to thigh. In that moment, Buck had realized with absolute clarity what Tommy meant when he said he wouldn't be Buck's last. Because Buck's last is Eddie. It was always going to be Eddie.

never seen a bluer sky by Chash/ @ponyregrets (S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Teen): "Hey, what brings you joy?" Eddie is expecting some waffling in Buck's response. Maybe some suspicion. It's a weird thing to ask, obviously. Joy isn't a word he uses much, isn't a go-to. But even if what makes you happy is a more normal question, it's not right. He needs something deeper. And of course there's the Tommy of it all. Buck hasn't exactly been mourning or anything, but he's obviously down. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to say that nothing is bringing him joy at the moment. It's not a particularly joyful time. But Buck doesn't hesitate, doesn't question. He just says, "The ocean," and doesn't even ask why Eddie wants to know.

all eyes on me, your illusionist by thelonggoodbye (Different First Meeting AU | 2K | Teen): Eddie doesn't like magic. He's just fond of this one magician, is all.

The Billy Boils Breakup Anthem by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (S8E5: Masks Fix-It | 2K | General): Buck gets dumped. Then he gets cursed.

just soothes the soul by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Mature): It’s quiet, apart from the music still playing over the speakers, Old Time Rock and Roll fading out, another equally upbeat song starting right after. The contrast of it is what gets to Buck. Whatever Eddie had been doing when Buck showed up, he’d seemed… different, than he’s been lately. Buck turns his head to look at Eddie properly. "You shaved."

safe haven by my_hopeless_opus (Established Buddie, Fluff | 3K | Teen): People pleaser Evan Buckley learns how to be the little spoon.

The Thanksgiving Trap by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Chris POV | 3K | Teen): Chris has got to get out of Texas. He has a plan!

Clouds Ain’t Leakin No Rain by vampirebuckley (Post-S8E6: Confessions, PWP | 3K | Explicit): “Tommy dumped me.” “Oh. Uhm. I’m sorry, Buck.” “Yeah, me too.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie grimaces as the words leave his mouth. Buck sighs, again. Slumps back on the couch. “Not particularly.” “Okay then. No talking. Do you want to drink about it?”

these hands had to let it go free (and this love came back to me) by bibuckdiaz (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Buck comes to Eddie's house after Tommy breaks up with him. They have a lot to discuss and to confess to each other. Eddie finally lets himself feel joy, in more ways than one. or: Catholic guilt, repressed memories, and the joyful ordeal of being in love with your best friend.

i could take you (to have and to hold) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E6: Confessions | 3K | General): Eddie goes to the cemetery, and he lets Shannon go. He lets her rest. And he shaves his moustache off. And he sits on his couch in his empty house and looks at a picture of Christopher and thinks I'm going to get him back And then Buck texts him. Broke up with Tommy. Beer (OR: eddie goes to church, buck breaks up with tommy, and things finally start to make sense)

ditch the clown, get the crown by sparkagrace/ @ohhsodebonair (Post-S8E6: Confession, Lakers Game Date | 3K | Teen): Eddie and Buck go to the Lakers game. They don't expect the kiss cam.

Happiness is a Bottle of Juice by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E7: Hotshots, Pre-Buddie | 4K | Mature): Eddie decides it’s time for him to go and get Christopher from Texas, sees something he shouldn’t, and has a conversation about juice.

🔥like sugar in my soul (how sweet it is to be loved by you) by granadas (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 4K | Mature): “I kind of have a sweet tooth,” Eddie admits. “It was easier when we were a little broke. I took my coffee black because I was always in a rush to my next shift, and we were scraping by, so any juice and sweets I bought were for Chris.” “So what changed?” Eddie’s finally looking at him, and he flushes. “I’m just trying this new thing,” he says, “where I stop punishing myself. I’m trying to be… nice to myself, I guess. For once. Like, showing myself that the world isn’t going to end if I do something just for me.” Or: Eddie is making changes to his life. Buck panics, until he doesn't.

The Five Deaths of Dorothy Diaz by thelonggoodbye (Established Buddie, Future Fic | 4K | Teen): Eddie buys a plant. Buck and Christopher are determined to keep him from finding out he keeps killing it.

Last and Forever by Kwills91/ @kwills91 (S8E6: Confessions Coda, Pre-Buddie | 5K | Teen): “I thought I needed to be punished. For what happened with Kim. I thought that’s what I deserved.” Buck wants to protest—say that’s not true—but Eddie knows him well enough to level him with a look that tells him not to before he even opens his mouth. “It didn’t feel like enough, what he asked me to do. So I left. And then I ran into him at this juice place. He noticed that I swapped the juice for water. Told me I was denying myself joy. Called me on being scared of being a failure, and about the mustache being a disguise.” “He got all that from juice?” Buck asks. Eddie laughs. “Yeah, he got all that from juice. Kind of.”

and I cannot, cannot go by Maira/ @mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Hanahaki Disease, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): Did Buck really not know? Did he not realise that he was the reason Eddie was even alive today? That knowing Buck was there, having Buck in his life, was sometimes the only thing that made Eddie get out of bed in the morning? Did Eddie- was this Eddie’s fault?

bad idea, right? by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Social Media Fic, Sexting | 6K | Explicit): Buck stumbles across Eddie's grindr profile.

we all assume the worst the best we can by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Established Buddie, Near Death Experience | 6K | Teen): When a rescue goes wrong, Buck and Bobby are trapped, while Eddie and Chim scramble to save them.

watch out (you might get what you’re after) by sparkagrace / @ohhsodebonair (Canon Divergent, Fratboy Eddie | 6K | Teen): The 118 keep getting called to a fraternity house and Buck can't stop thinking about the frat president Eddie Diaz (who is definitely not responsible for the fires).

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): “Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

🔥 wanna be your endgame by literalmetaphor (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together, Pining | 10K | Mature): Maddie has her forehead against her hands, which are clasped in what looks to be prayer. “Okay, so – hang on, so Eddie’s gay?” “Yeah.” Buck can’t believe they’re doing this again. “And he told you he was in love with you.” “Right,” Buck says. “And you…” Maddie peeks up at him. “You’re in love with him?” “Absolutely.” Maddie draws in a long breath, and she splits her hands to pillow her face. “But you turned him down and told him you wanted to wingman for him instead?”

🔥 death wish love by Underhung_Aura/ @eddiebabygirldiaz (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together, PWP | 15K | Explicit): after getting dumped by tommy and going to eddie's, buck wakes up the next morning only to be pummeled by his hangover and his attraction to eddie

WIP

🔥 wicked dreams by hispolestar (Post-S7, BT Break-Up, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 4/9 | 18K | Explicit): Eddie’s trouble starts with a dream. Well, it actually starts much earlier, when he runs into a woman who is the literal carbon copy of his dead wife. Or, alternatively it starts with a lightning bolt. Or a sniper. Or a firetruck. Or a car crash. Or, realistically, a grenade embedded in a seventh-grade teacher’s leg. It starts with blue eyes, broad shoulders and a tenacity that shocks Eddie to his very core. But right now, Eddie’s trouble starts with a dream. ~ Eddie, alone and confused, is navigating Christopher's extended stay in Texas, while also grappling with feelings he's been repressing for seven years. Buck, who misses Chris dearly, is struggling under Gerrard and his boyfriend's dismissive attitude. In the wreckage of their lives, they find each other.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 139/? | 446K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 how come everybody's dancing but you? by showedupatyourparty (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 3/4 | 31K | Mature): Buck feels guilty. Everyone he loves is going through something painful, difficult, or unexpected right now. And Buck is just…bisexual. It’s great that he’s figured it out, and it’s great that everyone has been so supportive, and Tommy is—Tommy is fine. The sex is good, at least. Consistent. When Buck gets a call from Eddie’s phone late on a Tuesday night in June, it’s cause for concern. * Buck unpacks his own feelings about his recently-discovered bisexuality. Eddie gets adopted by drag queens. They're both just trying their best to be happy.

[pnfc]

here is some unresolved(?) perryshmirtz whumpfic(?), rated T. i call it “doofenshmirtz talks on the phone a lot”. idk if i’ll put it on ao3, it depends on if i continue.

disclaimer: in this fic the owca agents are brain-modded, for purposes of juiciness. typically i prefer that pnf is just a goofy cartoon world with smart animals.

EDIT: i'll leave this post up but i finished this, on ao3 here

---

“It’s actually a net good for society if you climb the trees, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz is telling Perry as they stroll the orchard path. He’s sagging a little under the weight of a basket they’ve mostly filled.

“See I know there’s that rule, ‘no climbing’. But that’s for the 8 year olds who fall and crack their heads open -- the emotionally unbalanced teens out to break an arm. Not for you, Perry the Platypus. Treehopping is a cakewalk for you. You’re like a ninja up there.”

Perry flips his wool scarf and surveys the lowhanging branches, pointedly ignoring Heinz. He vaults up to snag a Golden Delicious, dunks it square into the basket from over his shoulder, not looking. Heinz whistles, even as the impact buckles his knees. “That’s what I mean.”

He catches up to Perry -- “What about the apples at the top of the trees, Perry the Platypus, do you think of them? Nobody can pick them, so they rot on the tree or rot on the ground. No one comes to an orchard to pick apples off the ground.”

Perry signs: Two-year olds.

“Besides them,” Heinz insists. “That’s like a third of all the apples just going to waste, so nobody can enjoy them.”

Birds and bugs, signs Perry. Can enjoy them.

Heinz ponders this. “Maybe. But I can tell you they’d enjoy my fresh-baked strudel a lot more.”

Perry makes a “yeah, yeah” wave to brush off Heinz’s winning point. Heinz can see the smile curving up his bill from behind, as he walks ahead. “Hold up, Perry the Platypus,” he says. “I think we have enough.”

Heinz sets the basket down, intensely grateful to rest his arms, and Perry skips back over to survey their haul. An even mix of Jonathan, Smeralda, and Goldens. “The best for baking out of the October set, in my experience,” Heinz explains to Perry. “These Goldens look a little young, but I think they’ll cook up okay. Could also use them for a syrup, I’ve been meaning to try that.”

The walk back to the exit is when it hits.

Perry reaches out a paw and pushes it against Heinz’s leg, tentative. Then he wrenches the fabric into both fists, hard, and chirps, frantic. This makes Heinz stop.

“Perry the Platypus? What’s up?”

It’s like a hypnic jerk, the sensation -- a dizziness cresting over him like an ocean wave, a loudening roar of foam. Perry looks up at Heinz, finds his blue-ringed eyes wide with alarm, like his own. And he holds Heinz’s leg like it’s the last stable thing, as the wave swallows him up in a gulp, then silence.

Perry thinks I’m having a stroke, before he can’t think it.

“...Perry? You okay?” Heinz has dropped the basket and is crouching down to Perry’s level. “What’s wrong, did I forget something? We have enough apples,” he says, knowing that’s not the problem. “If you want more, you’re carrying and paying.”

Perry’s still linking his gaze with Heinz’s, clutching his knee like he needs it for balance. He chitters out an anxious exhalation. Heinz taps him on the bill. “Hey. You gonna clue me in here?”

Perry shakes off the touch and backs away from Heinz, pinwheeling his arms and toppling onto the ground. The scarf gets trapped under his forepaw, pulls taut around his neck -- then he’s racing forward in a panic, growling at a high pitch, through the red leaf litter, scarf trailing after and under him.

“Perry!” Heinz exclaims, craning around to follow Perry’s tracks -- he bumbles into the basket, shooting apples out like poolballs. “Settle down -- tell me what’s wrong, okay? You’re scaring me.” He pushes himself up. “And that’s not how you treat that scarf. That’s Merino, Perry, it took me weeks to knit. You’re grinding dirt into it.”

Perry halts, at the tail of Heinz’s upbraiding, and looks at him with saucer eyes. Heinz approaches him slowly, like he’s an animal he might startle away. But Perry doesn’t run, when Heinz leans over him -- actually seems to settle, as Heinz clasps his hands around his shoulders.

“Perry the Platypus.” His brown eyes blink. “What is going on with you?”

Heinz picks him up. “You’re going to have to say something,” he says. “Or I’m going to assume this is an emergency. Are your arms malfunctioning? One blink yes, two blinks no.”

This gets no blinks.

Heinz drops Perry into the basket and runs out to the parking lot -- dropping a 20 on the checkout stall as he does, to cover the apples still in the bottom of the basket. They need to get home.

The OWCA watch beeps while Heinz is driving, Perry basket-bound in the passenger seat. Perry jolts and lifts his paw, looks at the glowing screen -- in the side of his vision Heinz sees Perry press his beak into the watchface. “God, not now, Francis...” he mutters.

Heinz parks right next to the elevators in the apartment garage. His phone buzzes right as he shuts the car door. “Perry the Platypus, we’re going upstairs, okay?” he says. “You want to stay in the basket?”

Perry’s just staring into him as he’s addressed, no reaction to the question. So Heinz exhales and walks to the elevator, basket steady in his arm, and checks his phone. It’s from Carl: Dr. D, this is urgent: is Perry okay?

He freezes in the elevator lobby, and dials.

“Carl, are you there?”

“Yes, Doofenshmirtz, hi. Listen, I need to --”

“Do you KNOW about this? What’s going on with him?”

“I -- oh dear,” says Carl, sounding sad. “I guess it worked. How is he? Can you describe his behavior?”

Heinz balks at that, staring at his phone -- Carl just confessed to screwing Perry up somehow and now he’s asking after him like a caring orderly, shameless.

“Are you kidding me? His behavior? He’s not himself, Carl,” Heinz shoots back. The metallic echo of the boxy room amplifies his voice, so he tries not to yell too loud -- Perry is out of the basket on the floor of the room, staring nervously up at him from a few paces away. “He doesn’t seem to get what I’m saying, he had a major panic attack out of the blue -- and he won’t talk to me. Like, no signs, no nods. He’s walking on all fours, Carl. What did you do?!”

“It wasn’t me,” Carl squeaks defensively. “I mean -- it’s this audit, Heinz, the agent program investigation. They didn’t even notify us they were sending people over today. It’s FBI people, they” -- his voice tightens to a whisper -- “they busted into every office, they found some of our server rooms and -- look, I can’t get into this right now, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Just ... just keep Perry safe, take him home. And for the love of god don’t let him escape.”

Carl hangs up in a hurry, before Heinz can yell a reply. He scowls at the red call-end sign.

“What the hell is wrong with that kid,” Heinz asks the room. “Maybe Francis knows. I have to give him a call. I hate when it comes to that, Perry the Platypus.”

Perry is doubling back to the apple basket, slinking close to the floor with visible nerves. He clambers back inside. Heinz pushes the elevator button.

Upstairs, Heinz drops the basket on the kitchen island and budges Perry’s hat aside to place a hand on his head. “First things first, Perry the Platypus. We’re going to give you a checkup. Okay?”

Perry still doesn’t react, but Heinz will keep treating this like a two-way conversation. It’s an old habit that he hasn’t slipped into in a long time. He didn’t miss it.

Heinz leads him to the bathroom -- Perry mostly sticks by his feet, but stops in place once or twice, swiveling his gaze around the spacious penthouse canopy, either like it’s new to him, or like he’s remembering it. He snaps back whenever Heinz calls his name -- there’s that, at least. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Phineas’s housewarming gift, one of them, had been a platypus first-aid kit. He’d presented it to Heinz back when Perry had just told his family about them and Heinz was hosting a “win Perry the Platypus’s family over” lunch (unofficial title that Perry had deleted off the invitation cards). Heinz had read a kind of parental judgment into the gift choice, at the time, like the kid wasn’t trusting him to take adequate care of Perry on his own, without being handheld. Maybe Heinz’s reading was unfair -- he has a chip on his shoulder, when it comes to mom behavior.

He unsnaps it. The case is overstuffed -- it pops open with decollapsing trays of portable disinfectant and numbing wipes, surgical sewing kits, cut-closing gel and fur-safe teal bandages to cover it in all sizes, claw trimmers and medicated toothpastes and endoscopes. An impressive degree of overkill -- he really likes that kid, past misgivings aside.

“I’m just checking a few basic things,” Heinz tells Perry as he rummages through and pulls out a stethoscope. “Fever, stress, blood oxygen. You never know what can affect the brain -- a lot of things, really. Including Carl. Well we already know it’s Carl,” he grumbles. Perry’s irises contract at the flashlight shine, and he blinks and squirms in Heinz’s hold. “I’ll just have to squeeze him for answers later. Knowing the brain geniuses at OWCA they activated some stolen villain tech without back-engineering it first -- a mind-control beam, some harebrained monotreme-dumbdowninizer. Are they still using my memory eraser?” He huffs -- pulse and blood pressure readings are normal. “Why’d I ever make that thing. I can never recall.

“Everything looks fine so far, Perry the Platypus. That’s... that’s good,” he says, not feeling it. Perry is poking his bill inquisitively into the trays of the first-aid kit. Heinz will need to break out the MRInator. Been a while, so he’ll need to tune it first, which could take hours. Better get started on it right away. He needs to be working right now, because if he stops he thinks he will gelatinize into a ball of terror. That wouldn’t help Perry.

He’s 15 minutes into his work, checking that the gradient coils are aligned, when the phone rings. His screwdriver hits the ground as he lunges for it, ready to yell the full story out of Carl. But it’s Peter calling. He stares at the profile photo, which is many years out of date.

“...Hello? Peter the Panda, since when do you call? What’s up?”

“Hi, hi -- Doofenshmirtz?” comes a voice on the other line. It’s pitchy, so he has trouble placing it at first.

“Mystery? Is that you?”

This is weird. Heinz never talks to this guy. He isn’t even up on whether Professor Mystery’s still practicing evil -- just gets the impression from Peter that they’re doing alright together, whenever the two of them cross paths.

“I’m calling because something’s wrong with Peter,” he says, a quaver in his voice that Heinz can hear he is trying to suppress. “And I wanted to ask if you know anything. Did you do something to him, Doofenshmirtz? Or, if you didn’t. Can... can you come over here? Can you help me talk to him? I thought maybe he’d respond if he saw a familiar face, or maybe you’d have one of your... weird machines that could help him.”

“Verdammt noch mal,” Heinz hisses through the hand raking down his face. “That agency. It’s all of them?”

“...What?”

“It’s OWCA, Mystery, they did something to all of the agents. Apparently, if it hit Peter. Perry’s the same way.”

“...Oh,” responds Mystery. He sounds lost. “So can you come up here? I’ll -- I’ll cover your tickets. Both of them.”

Like he’d fly there commercial. “Mystery, I’m getting details out of the OWCA guys right now. I need more information before I can make any plans. Sorry.”

And Mystery couldn’t pay him enough to take Perry out of the city right now. Perry’s been hopping between the sofa and the carpet, then walking over to Heinz and bumping into his side as he works, before cycling back to the sofa, a knot of agitation. Right now he’s digging his forepaws into a couch cushion, like he’s trying to find something that isn’t there.

On the end of the line Mystery sniffles -- oh, no. “What happened to him, Doofenshmirtz?” he says, voice cracking. “My parents were trying to figure it out, they were asking me how old he is -- but it was so sudden, like something hit all at once. My dad asked if I let him go near any black holes recently.”

“Did you?” Heinz asks, genuine. Mystery got up to some hardcore science in the old days.

There’s an ursine growl on the other end, angrier than Peter sounds. “No. That’s their baggage. But I was worried,” Mystery says, “about the age thing. Because. Well.”

Heinz knows Peter’s well into his 20s, by now.

“There’s only so many more years, for him,” Mystery says, faltering. “And so -- what if this is -- if this is how he is now,” he wavers, “then that means I didn’t even... have the time, have the time I thought.”

This precedes a total breakdown of his speech into wracking sobs, that don’t transmit prettily over the phone audio. Heinz pulls the phone away from his ear, frowning at it with no little sympathy. Mystery’s age, like so much about him, has never been clear to Heinz -- but he can tell the guy’s young, comparatively. Whatever their relationship passes for there’s a strained mentorship quality to it -- Mystery has turned to Heinz for answers, in the past, and has repaid him with petulant resentment every time. It’s very bratty. Like when Vanessa would ask him for help with science projects. Heinz can’t resist another opportunity to help each time he’s asked, even knowing the outcome.

But consoling this man wasn’t on Heinz’s docket for today. “Mystery,” he says, “You’ll get that time. You cannot have so little faith in Peter the Panda, so soon after something happens to him. You’re a scientist -- you’re a master of mystery. Give it a few days, before you have a breakdown, alright? That’s what Peter would want.”

Heinz thought that was pretty good, but Mystery just cries harder on the line. He feels shaken -- he doesn’t want to be hearing this right now. That’s selfish, he knows -- but Mystery has family. Mystery can handle himself, and he can handle Peter. Heinz cares deeply for Peter’s wellbeing, still, but part of caring has meant learning to trust his choice of partner, just like Peter trusts his.

“Look, Mystery, I have to go,” he says -- he looks up, and doesn’t see Perry. Suddenly he meant what he said, with an urgency. “Get your parents to help, and tell them all morbid speculation is banned. Give them a furbrush, tell them go to town on him. They’ll love it, he’ll love it. Bye.”

He snaps off the call and rushes through the house, looking for Perry. The kitchen, the balcony ledge, the pool. This place is too big, when he doesn’t want it to be.

He finds a puddle in the bathroom. Perry knew enough to go in there, apparently, but not how to use the toilet.

Perry is back in the sitting room hiding under the glass coffee table, tail curled under like he’s ashamed. “Oh, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz sighs, kneeling at the table and reaching under to stroke Perry’s head. “What are we going to do with you.”

Mr. Fluffypants’ old litterbox is in the storage room that used to belong to Norm. He sets it up next to the toilet. Their bathroom has ample room. He exits, knowing he has to keep the inertia rolling, has to work, can’t process that he just set out a litterbox for Perry. How is he supposed to process that.

Right across from the door, in the hallway, there’s an elongated picture frame with photos from a family beach trip, when Heinz had more color in his hair. The left side highlights Vanessa, who’d brought along a friend -- she’s laughing in some of them, more unrestrained happiness than she showed in her gradeschool years. There’s the massive sandcastle they’d constructed, Norm using his vacant head to scoop, Vanessa lifting Perry up to decorate the upper echelons with fine detail, the two of them focused on this process for a long time while they’d chatted. And then photos of Perry, the surf breaking over his feet as he poses with a notch-tailed surfboard, cool confidence in the line of his smile. Heinz loves that picture: he looks so handsome, his white beach shirt open and playing in the wind.

He finds himself staring at it. This was Perry an hour ago.

He calls out: “Do you know Vanessa, Perry the Platypus? Va-ne-ssa?”

No response, obviously -- Heinz is convinced he could jostle some kind of reaction out of Perry if Vanessa stopped by in person, like Mystery had been aiming at with him. But he has no intention of letting her see him in this state. Perry would hate that.

Heinz collapses into his folded arms on the kitchen island, amid the newly-purchased bags of flour and sugar, for the apple pie they will not be making tonight. He doesn’t want to eat.

But Perry should, he realizes after a minute, lifting his head. Perry seems less agitated now, has been wandering the floor. Right now he’s peering out at the balcony sky, seated. Heinz walks over to him. “You’re not going to try and run off of that, right?” Perry looks up. “Carl made it sound like you were gonna bolt if I so much as left a door open.” But Perry’s been keeping near to him, following him from room to room. The real Perry isn’t this clingy. “I don’t trust you to operate a parachute right now, Perry the Platypus. And don’t let me see you going in the jetpack closet.”

More empty eye contact. “Let’s get you dinner.”

It’s reheated lasagna they’d made a few nights ago, beef and zucchini. Heinz stares hopefully at Perry as he eats it off the plate, thinking the taste might stir a memory. He noses the fork off the table, jumps a little at its clatter, then starts nibbling bites off the edge of the lasagna block. Heinz is over there cutting it up with a butter knife when Carl’s return call finally buzzes in his pocket -- he puts it on the tabletop set to speaker mode. “Carl. I hope you’re ready to talk.”

“Yes Doofenshmirtz, hi,” returns the tinny nasal voice. “I had to get home -- Monogram’s getting grilled over there, and he wouldn’t stop yelling back at them, at the FBI agents, who were jumping at the bit to arrest him. I managed to broker a peace,” Carl ends, proudly.

“That’s fantastic, Carl,” says Heinz. “How about explaining what you did to Perry the Platypus’s brain? It hit Peter too, by the way, I know this is a bigger problem than you want me to think.”

“I don’t want you to think anything!” says Carl. “This wasn’t my choice, Heinz, or Monogram’s for that matter. They turned off the agent control switch. I kept telling them they didn’t need to do that, they should just leave the agents alone -- it’s more safe that way, honestly, we didn’t even know what would happen if they used it. But they just said if it’s part of the animal program, it needs to go.”

Heinz’s stomach sinks lower than he thought it could. “Agent control switch? You’re controlling them?”

“No!” says Carl. “It’s not a -- clear term. Nobody’s controlling the animals, Heinz. It’s like a remote control hub, with a binary state, on and off. They shut it off.’

“So that’s good,” Heinz falters, trying not to let the ominous weight of whatever this implies overwhelm his thought. “You can just switch it back on. It sounds like you can literally fix this with a button press, Carl, so do it.”

“Well, yes and no,” Carl dithers. “They shut it off. Then they confiscated all our equipment. They said ‘classified’, when I asked where it was going. so my guess is it’ll end up in some storage basement or the FBI dumpster, based on how badly they mishandled it. They split open the casing just getting it out of the room, it was hard to watch.”

That sounds about right for OWCA, 70s-era supercomputers filling up rooms they were never intended to leave. “So the switch controls something in Perry’s head?” Heinz asks, steadily. He’s thinking of the giant magnet he was about to put Perry inside. “Like a metal chip?”

“It’s a bioelectric material, I’m pretty sure,” Carl says. “Part of what makes it so hard to access, once it’s inside. The investigators were going to make us lobotomize all the agents, if I hadn’t told them about the switch, it was the only choice. They’re serious about stamping out this program, Heinz, like they’re trying to erase it from the public consciousness. Because if people see a dog in a hat they’ll mob up and burn the government down, apparently.”

Heinz feels on board with that plan at the moment. “Carl. Professor Mystery’s having a breakdown, I had to talk him off the cliff this afternoon. Neither of us knew about this. You didn’t tell any of us,” the heat is rising in his voice, “that Peter and Perry had something in them that you controlled, that this could happen at any minute. Did they know about this?”

Carl is quiet a second. “... I’m not sure,” he says. “I thought Perry knew. It’s not a major secret, it’s just what we do, to promising recruits. It’s had a less pronounced effect in the newer ones, since we stopped putting them in babies. But Perry’s always had it. That’s why he’s so intelligent. But he might not have known about the control switch -- it’s really a relic, we haven’t run power through it in decades, since we’ve had no reason to deactivate the agents.”

Perry’s nosing around the table, his lasagna half-eaten -- he makes a small noise of complaint. “Oh -- I didn’t give you water,” Heinz realizes. A cup seems too optimistic, so he fills up a bowl.

“Is that Perry?” asks Carl from the phone speaker -- Heinz rolls his eyes. “How is he? I’m really sorry, by the way, Heinz -- there’s a lot on our plates over here, I’m just trying to keep us afloat and Monogram on a leash. You know I care about him, too.”

“Then fix him,” says Heinz. Carl goes quiet, while Perry drinks from his bowl.

“...We’ll figure it out. Good night, Doofenshmirtz.”

Heinz looks out at the silent space of his apartment -- the living room lamp is taking on the brunt of lighting it, now the early autumn dark has fallen. With the phonecall battles over and done for the night, it seems quieter than usual.

This space is normally filled by just him and Perry, now that Norm and Vanessa are out on their own. Perry doesn’t talk, and employs his platypus noises judiciously, only making sound when he really wants Heinz’s attention, or is in a temper. But his presence fills the space, in a way that’s hard to explain, easy to feel.

Normal nights, Heinz gabs his way into the late hours with Perry as his receptive listener, and responder, accompanying Heinz on their end-of-day tidying chores, toweling dishes off for him to stack on high shelves, shooting him dry looks and signing quick sentences that make Heinz scoff. Perry believes Heinz is worth listening to, which makes Heinz want to keep chatting with him, more and more, a self-feeding loop that would overload the casual conversational partner. But Perry is no casual.

Normal afternoons, they work on parallel projects to the sound of old radio serials, to audiobooks of bestselling mystery novels, to the Landmarks in Evil podcast. Perry will grab Heinz’s attention to sign some withering remark on the spotlighted villain of the week, and Heinz will snort into his construction tools. Perry’s presence grants him undesired OWCA updates around the house, that they both groan at simultaneously. Perry grants him gift-laden drop-ins from Ferb and Phineas -- literal balcony visits, often, since those kids and their friends fly around the city in more novel contraptions than Perry once did. Perry gives him looks that say everything.

Now, Perry has hopped off the kitchen chair and is padding around Heinz into the living room space. He turns to look at Heinz, like he keeps on doing, but his face expresses only a primal distress. He chirps a high, querulous note, cry-like, foreign on Perry’s tongue. Heinz could step on Perry’s tail ten times -- he has -- and not hear a noise that heartrending.

“I know, Perry the Platypus.” Such a thing you say to pets. But he shares Perry’s sentiment.

A flash of guilt twinges his stomach, and he pulls out his phone to text Peter’s number: Got the intel - I’m fixing it. Take care of Peter the Panda tonight.

A quick reply: I AM. Heinz’s lip quirks.

Heinz raps on the shell of the MRInator -- its completion feels less urgent, now that he has a better concept of the problem. He’ll finish it after a night of sleep, so he doesn’t risk frying Perry’s neurons. He doesn’t want to sleep, knows it won’t be easy, with this mountainous weight hanging over him. But dire times call for proper rest, he’s learned to accept, after 50-some odd years. He downs a plastic cup of Nyquil.

“I’ll have to fix you tomorrow, Perry the Platypus,” he tells him. “Or else I’ll start owing everyone an explanation. Really don’t wanna give the ‘Carl Scrambled Perry’s Brain’ apology tour to your family. I don’t think they’d talk to me again, even though everything is Carl’s fault. As established by the name of the tour.”

Perry wails again, a haunting trill sent into the darkness of the penthouse.

“But don’t worry,” Heinz adds, hurrying over to Perry -- he bends to pet his head. “I will fix this for you. And for Peter the Panda too, and all the other agents. I promise.

Perry whines again, more quietly, in Heinz’s hold, looking up at him with sad brown eyes. Heinz rubs his old hands through the fur of his head -- Perry looks so different right now, hunched in a dog’s sitting posture. Whatever they did to him, whatever pathways are now shut off in his mind, must have enabled or encouraged more human postures, better standing balance -- who knows.

Heinz isn’t sure what to make of Perry now, this animal shell of him. He wonders if Perry feels the same about him -- what is he to Perry now? His partner, his mere protector? Is he less than he used to be?

Heinz takes his left paw, gently, lifting it in his hand. He thumbs the metal ring on his finger.

“For the MRI tomorrow,” he tells Perry. “In case I forget.” He removes it.

Perry pads after Heinz as he gets a glass of water from the sink, as he walks to the bedroom. He feels odd dressing down to his boxers, in front of him now. Perry doesn’t pay him any mind, though -- as soon as he walks in he jumps his way up to the bedspread, scrabbling at the blankets on the edge to barely avoid falling.

“Not letting you in any apple trees,” Heinz muses emptily.

He slumps back into the pillows, feeling the doxylamine fog roll in. “But I’ll need you back soon,” he says, “so we can do the Haunted Haymaze with the kids.”

Perry trods up to him on the blanket. He makes a quiet noise -- not scared or confused, but a regular krrr, like he used to make. A gentle declaration of presence, a little care-package growl. Heinz lifts his arm, and Perry crawls under it, pushing his head into his neck. This movement isn’t forgotten, to him.

Heinz hugs his other arm around Perry’s body, and he falls asleep.

---