#please let me take a sledgehammer to something just once

[arcanegalaxy]

i often have the urge to break something and i’m not gonna do it but god i wish i could at least once

[blingblong55]

Sex is on fire- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Kinktober Day 14

Based on a request: I recently saw my husband in the yard working and fuck did he look so sexy. So now I can't help but imagine Ghost as my husband, working in the yard and there's a spontaneous fuck. He's hot and so is this idea ---- F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, smut, P-in-V, oral!sex, unprotected!sex, husband!ghost, wife!reader, exhibition? ----

A/N: we won't talk about the first time I posted this, got it? great, thanks <3

The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the overgrown garden, highlighting the faded stones of the path winding through it. He looks at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hot, huh? Well, I aim to please," he says with a playful wink, trying to match your lighthearted tone.

He spots the sledgehammer leaning against the shed and picks it up, testing its weight in his hands. Then, with a growl of effort, he swings it at the nearest stone, cracking it neatly in half. Simon grunts with satisfaction, sweat already beading on his brow as he continues down the path, methodically demolishing each stone. His muscles flex with each swing, rippling beneath his shirt.

He pauses after a few minutes, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "This is actually... kind of fun," he admits with a grin. "Cathartic, like you said. Feels good to just let loose and destroy something." He looks at you, his eyes brighter than they were earlier. "Thanks for this. For knowing exactly what I needed, even when I didn't."

He steps closer, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before returning to the path, ready to continue his destructive work. You bite your lip as you keep your eyes on him, “Mm, fucking sexy… wow,” you smile and lean back, god, does he look so sexy. “You keep going until you’ve had enough, handsome face.”

Simon pauses mid-swing, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow. A slow, heated grin spreads across his face at your words.

"Oh? Is that so?" he asks, his voice dropping an octave as he sets the sledgehammer aside and stalks towards you."Watching me work up a sweat gets you all hot and bothered, does it?"

He reaches you and leans close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Maybe I should take a break and give you something else to bite those pretty lips of yours," he murmurs, nipping lightly at your earlobe. His hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, the hard planes of his body.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "You want to join me? Help me work off some steam?" He rocks his hips against yours, letting you feel his growing arousal.

"I could put that tongue of yours to good use," he suggests with a wicked grin. "Keep me company while I finish tearing up this path." He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "What do you say, beautiful? Want to get your hands dirty with me?"

“I’m not picking up a sledgehammer, but I’ll happily get my mouth dirty." you wink. Simon's eyes darken with lust at your suggestive words. He grins wolfishly, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Mmm, now that's an offer I can't refuse," he purrs, his voice low and rough with desire. "Get on your knees for me, baby. Let's see how well you can use that pretty mouth of yours."

He guides you down to the ground, his strong hands supporting your back. Once you're kneeling before him, he steps back and starts to unbuckle his belt, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Remember, no biting unless I tell you to," he teases, his eyes locked with yours as he unzips his pants. "Unless you want to earn yourself a punishment later."

He tugs his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, his hard cock springing free. It juts out from his body, thick and throbbing, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, wrapping a hand around himself and giving a slow stroke. "On your knees for me, so eager to please. Such a good girl." He steps closer, his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. "Open wide, baby. Show me what that mouth can do."

“Fuck, you see… this is why I enjoy watching you,” you say before taking his cock into your mouth. You take his hand and place it on the back of your head. You look up and begin to bob your head, your eyes rolling back a bit, gagging but enjoying the thickness of his size.

Simon groans deeply as you take him into your mouth, his head falling back in pleasure. His hand comes to rest gently on the back of your head, holding you in place as you work. "Fuck, Y/N," he grunts, his hips rocking slightly to meet your bobbing motions. "Just like that, baby. Take it deep."

His cock pulses against your tongue, the taste of him filling your mouth. He's thick and hard, stretching your lips obscenely around his girth. You gag slightly as you force yourself down further, taking him into your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you don't pull away, determined to please him.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained with arousal. "Choke on it. Fuck, you look so good with your lips wrapped around me." He tightens his grip on your hair, guiding your movements. You relax your throat, letting him fuck your face, using your mouth for his pleasure. "Gonna... fuck... I'm gonna cum," he warns, his thrusts becoming erratic."Swallow it all, baby. Every fucking drop."

With a final, guttural moan, he releases, flooding your mouth with his hot seed. You swallow reflexively, milking him for all he's worth. "Fuck yes," he gasps, riding out the waves of his orgasm. "Such a good girl, taking it so well."

Finally, he pulls away, letting you catch your breath. You sit back on your heels, looking up at him with a satisfied smile, his cum glistening on your lips. Simon smirks down at you, his eyes hooded with satisfaction. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips up, then reaches down to pull you to your feet.

"Mmm, you're insatiable today," he chuckles, brushing a thumb over your cum-slicked lips. "Not that I'm complaining. I love seeing you like this - so hungry for me." He leans in and captures your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, licking the taste of himself from your tongue. You moan into the kiss, your body pressing eagerly against his.

"Fuck, I need to finish this path," he pants when he finally breaks away. "But first, I think I need a little more motivation." His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly.

"How about you strip down and bend over one of these garden benches for me?" he suggests, his eyes glinting with wicked promise. "Let me fuck you right here in the yard, where anyone could see what a dirty slut you are for your husband." He punctuates his words with a sharp smack to your rear, making you yelp.

"What do you say, baby? Want me to split you open on my cock while you watch me work? I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?" You nod eagerly, "Oh... fuck yes, I want that, I want that so bad," you say with need. What more can a wife say? No? Her husband looks so fucking sexy when he does manual labour and asks to fuck her in their backyard and she is meant to say no? Fuck that shit.

Simon grins wickedly at your eager response. He gives your ass another hard smack before stepping back.

"Strip," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And bend over that bench. I want to see that pretty pussy on display for me."

You waste no time obeying. Hastily shedding your clothes, you position yourself over the garden bench, your legs spread wide. The cool wood against your bare skin makes you shiver with anticipation.

Simon takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your exposed body appreciatively. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, palming himself through his pants. "So perfect, so ready for me. I'm gonna ruin you, Y/N. Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name."

He moves behind you, running his hands over your curves possessively. Then, without warning, he drives his cock into you with one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

"Yes!" he hisses, gripping your hips tightly. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch." He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo through the yard, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"That's it, fucking take it," he growls, one hand coming up to fist in your hair, pulling your head back. "You love this, don't you? Love being used like a cheap whore by your husband." He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Gonna fill this cunt up, pump you full of my cum. Everyone's gonna know who you belong to after this."

You moan, your back arches, “Oh… fuck… ah… ngh~” It's too fucking much but it is so fucking good.

Simon pounds into you harder, spurred on by your desperate moans. His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises in their wake. "That's it, baby," he pants, his voice strained with impending release. "Cum for me. Cum on my cock like the dirty little slut you are." He reaches around to rub your clit in rough circles, sending you careening over the edge. Your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock as you come undone.

"Fuck, Y/N!" he roars, slamming into you one last time before stilling, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his seed. "Take it, fucking take it all." He collapses against your back, both of you panting heavily in the aftermath. After a moment, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his cum drips down your thighs. "Look at the mess I made," he chuckles, swiping some on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. "Clean up your mess, baby. Taste what I gave you."

As you lick his fingers clean, he tucks himself away and zips up. Then he turns back to the broken path, picking up the sledgehammer once more. "Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up?" he suggests his voice already back to its usual gruff tone. "I'll finish up here and join you in a bit. Maybe we can go for round two in the shower, hm?"

He winks at you over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the debris, swinging the hammer with renewed vigour, his earlier tension seemingly melted away.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @lovelyvqer @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimbalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycat @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @azkza @VampyTheGoth

[scoonsalicious]

9.3 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence toward inanimate objects, real talk.

Word Count: 2.2k

Previously On...: You're Bucky's guide on his first trip to a rage room.

A/N: Early today. Ugh, my professional life is trash atm, lol. Please enjoy this foray into fantasyland that keeps me sane.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much. Or, rather, he supposed, he couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much when it didn’t involve having sex with Major.

There was something so absolutely freeing about being allowed to smash shit to smithereens without having to worry about the repercussions of it, and Bucky was feeling liberated. He had to wonder if there wasn’t a secret part of Bruce that actually enjoyed it when “Hulk smash!” 

Once they’d donned their safety gear, Major had let them into the room, where a pounding rock track was blasting. The space was filled with… stuff. Everything from old televisions to china to fake walls.

Along the wall by the door they’d just entered was an array of tools under a painted sign that read “Choose Your Weapon.” There were baseball bats, sledgehammers, crowbars, axes– even a couple of golf club drivers. 

Nat had immediately gone for one of the axes, swinging it around and testing the balance in her grip. “This one’s mine,” she had announced delightedly. 

Bucky, meanwhile, opted for a sledgehammer, and Major picked up a wooden baseball bat. On her count, they set off to release any pent up rage.

Bucky immediately headed for one of the fake walls and began smashing away. The three shouted jokes and taunts at each other over the music as they went, and the hour that made up their appointment flew by in no time. 

Bucky watched as Major went to town on an old computer monitor, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He couldn’t imagine how Lily could ever have a problem with him dating her, not when he watched her laugh and tease Nat over something the redhead had said. He gripped his sledgehammer tighter, anger at his best friend rising in his mind. 

She didn’t even know Major, he thought as he brought the hammer down onto a ceramic bust, shattering it. Where did she get off calling Major a bitch and a slut? He moved over to an old couch and began whacking on it. What gave Lily the right to say those things about someone she didn’t even know, just because he had feelings for her? Who did she think she was?

“Bucky!” Nat called out, but he didn’t hear her, his anger at Lily sending the blood pounding in his ears. He kept raising his sledgehammer over and over again, taking out his frustrations on the helpless piece of furniture.

“BARNES!” Natasaha shouted, and that permeated the fog,finally getting his attention.

“What?!” he snapped, unable to reign in his anger immediately, but instantly regretting it when he realized it was Nat who was speaking to him, and not Lily, like he had immediately imagined. 

“That couch do something to personally offend you?” she asked.

Bucky looked down. The couch before him was reduced to nothing more than splinters and stuffing. “Shit,” he laughed nervously. “I guess I let myself get a little carried away.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll say.”

Bucky sheepishly turned to Major, offering her an apologetic smile, but she was staring at the pile of debris before him, baseball bat hanging limply from her hand.

“Sugar?” he asked, but she didn’t seem to hear him, transfixed as she was on the destruction he had left in his wake. He took a step toward her, reaching out and putting his hand on her arm. At the contact, Major let out a gasp and pulled back, startled. 

“Sorry.” She blinked, seeming to come out of a trance. “I just… what did you say, Bucky?” 

He frowned, not liking the expression on her face. “You alright, doll?”

“Yeah,” she told him, a smile coming to her lips a little too late. “I’m good.” Her hesitation left a pit in the center of Bucky’s stomach. 

A beeping sounded throughout the room, indicating that their session had come to an end. 

“Alright,” Major said, looking around, her tone full of false cheer. “Let’s put our stuff back on the wall, and vacate the space so my staff can get it ready for the next group.” Without looking at either Bucky or Nat, she returned her baseball bat to its resting place on the wall. She opened the door and held it, waiting for them to follow.

Nat hung up her axe. “I’m going to run to the bathroom before we head down,” she told them both. She squeezed Major’s arm on her way out the door, leaving her and Bucky alone.

“Is everything alright, doll?” he asked her. 

She sighed and looked up at him. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I just didn’t realize how… strong you really were?” She inclined her head toward the demolished couch. “That… um… that was something.”

Her words concerned him. God, had he frightened her? He didn’t think he could live with himself if he had scared her. He dropped his head. “Oh,” was all he could manage to say.

“Hey,” Major said gently, taking a step toward him and reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all. I mean, I knew you had super strength, but actually seeing it was something else.”

“It didn’t scare you?” he asked her with some trepidation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to really know, if he could stand the way she might look at him if she, too, thought him a monster.

“Scare me?” Major laughed, but when she noticed the expression on his face, she grew serious. “You seriously think you scare me? Bucky, no.” She made a point of taking his metal hand in both of hers, bringing it to her lips, and then up to cup her cheek. “You could never scare me.”

Bucky closed his eyes and released a breath. “I’m used to people seeing me as a murderer, a monster,” he told her. “I’ve gotten to the point where it doesn’t bother me if it comes from strangers, but if it came from you…” He left his thoughts hanging, the words unsaid. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” she told him, putting a hand on each of his cheeks. “I see you, Bucky Barnes. Not some monster. I never could. Don’t ever think that. I admit, I was startled, but that’s all, I promise.” She leaned up and kissed him lightly. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about anything, and most definitely not about that.”

“Thank you, doll.” Her words to him were a balm on a wound he thought he’d long healed, but apparently was capable of being reopened at any moment. 

“Of course, honey,” she replied, tucking her arm under his and ushering him out the door and into the hallway where Nat was waiting by the elevators. 

Bucky loved the feeling of Major pressed against him as they rode the elevator back down to the lobby, and though she told him he hadn’t scared her, he couldn’t shake the look she’d had on her face at his display of aggression. He never wanted to see a look like that cross her countenance again. 

The lobby was bustling with people waiting to be taken to their rage rooms when the three of them exited the elevator.

“I’m glad business is doing good,” Nat said, looking around the crowded lobby with a smile. “You deserve the success, Major.”

Major buried her face into Bucky’s shoulder, pleased. “Thanks, Nat,” she replied. “It still seems weird to think that we’re not operating in the red.”

“Was it difficult?” Bucky asked her, suddenly curious about what it had been like for Major at the beginning of her business. 

“Ugh, that’s a story for another time,” Major said. “When I’ve had a few drinks in me.”

“Hey, Major!” Zadie called once she had gotten the new group of people all checked in. “Package came for you while you were upstairs. I left it on your desk.”

Major let out a dejected sigh. “Well,” she said, turning to look up at Bucky with a forlorn expression, “I guess this means I have to get back to work. We’re still on for dinner tonight, though, right Bucky?”

He smiled down at her; as if he could have forgotten. “Of course, sugar. How ‘bout I meet you back here at five thirty, and we can figure out where to go?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, standing up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss while Nat looked on with a knowing smile. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, doll,” he replied. With a final farewell to Nat, Major turned and made her way back to her office, leaving him and the former assassin to make their exit.

“Don’t you dare hurt her,” Nat warned as they made their way into the lobby. 

Bucky turned to face her, halting in his steps. “What?” he spluttered. “Nat, I–I would never–”

“I know you don’t think you’d do it on purpose,” Natasha replied, “but your former girlfriends have a habit of getting their hearts broken and ending up miserable because of you. I’m telling you not to do that with Major. She’s a good person, and my friend. If you think that, once again, you’re going to let someone else call the shots on your relationship with her, you should let her go now, before she gets in too deep. She’s been hurt enough.”

“Nat,” he said, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sincerely didn’t. Who else would be calling the shots on any of his relationships if it wasn’t him? Yeah, it was true that his past relationships had ended messily, that the girls had been hurt, but… well, that wasn’t entirely Bucky’s fault, was it? Things just hadn’t worked out, for one reason or another. 

But with Major? Well, things were different with her. Bucky could feel it.

Nat gave him an appraising look, studying him as if she could read his mind through his facial expressions. “You really don’t, do you?” she mused. “It’s not my place to tell you her business, but Barnes–” she gave him a serious look– “if you let her get hurt because you can’t figure out where to draw a boundary, you and I are going to have a problem."

She gently pulled free of his grasp and made her way to the door of the building. Bucky paused for a moment, contemplating all that she had said, and wondering just what she had meant by any of it. Though, knowing Natasha, if she didn’t feel the need to explain it to him, there was no way he could get her to elaborate. 

As he was about to follow her out the door, he heard Major shouting for Zadie’s attention. He turned around and saw her angrily waving a thick manilla envelope in the air as she stalked toward the reception desk.

“Where did this come from, Zadie?” she asked in a tone Bucky had never heard her use before.

“Courier dropped it off, why?” Zadie asked. “What is it? Who’s it from?” 

“What company was the courier from?” Major continued, ignoring Zadie’s own questions. “Did they have a logo or anything like that?”

“Doll?” Bucky said as he stepped back toward the reception desk, concerned by the previously unseen agitation Major was displaying.

“Bucky!” Major exclaimed, as though surprised to still see him there. “I thought you left already.” She plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and Bucky knew it was performative for his sake.

Bucky frowned. “What’s wrong, sugar? What’s in the envelope?”

Major’s eyes widened a fraction in alarm as she maneuvered to position the envelope behind her back. “It’s nothing, honey. Just… some business stuff. There’s no sender, so I need to figure out where it came from so I can make sure it gets dealt with properly.”

Bucky knew her explanation was bullshit, but he didn’t feel comfortable questioning her in front of her employee, so he let it slide. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No!” she exclaimed, a little too quickly, and then seemed to realize she’d nearly shouted at him. “No,” her voice was softer now, calmer, “but thank you. I appreciate that you want to help, though. That means a lot to me.”

Those words rang true; Bucky could tell that much. He sighed and took a step closer to give her a quick parting kiss. “If you’re sure, doll,” he said. 

“I’m sure,” she told him, then leaned in to whisper in his ear: “and if we were still having sex, I’d show you how appreciative I am.” She pulled back and grinned up at him.

“Gonna make me really regret that decision, huh?” he asked. He knew she was changing the subject, putting distance between them and the mysterious envelope, but he was willing to let it go for the time being. 

“Oh, most definitely,” she teased him. “At least until you change your mind.”

Bucky smiled at her. If she kept it up, he’d be changing his mind sooner than later. “Alright, I better get going before Nat comes looking for me,” he said, taking a step back from her. “I’ll see you at five thirty, yeah?”

“Don’t be late,” Major called after him. As if he would ever be late for her.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[deans-queen]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐰

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Y/N finds Dean cheating on her with Lisa.

Warnings: angst, light smut (nothing too crazy), mentions of cheating, language. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "I thought it'd be hell, but I was wrong. It was way worse." square for @jacklesversebingo. This fic is also inspired by the song "Take a Bow" by Rhianna -> hence the title. (Bold/italic text -> song lyrics)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought my heart could break—especially not because of the one person I believed would never hurt me… Dean Winchester.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway of the motel room, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. The sight in front of me was like a bad dream—Dean, half-dressed, his hands tangled in Lisa’s hair as she giggled against his lips.

It took a moment for them to notice me. When they did, Lisa scrambled to grab her shirt, and Dean’s face fell. “Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, holding up a trembling hand. My voice cracked, but I refused to cry in front of them. “Don’t you fucking dare, Dean!!”

“And don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Cause you’re not.”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like—”

I laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like what it is. A show. A goddamn performance. Bravo, Dean. Go on and take your FUCKING bow!”

Lisa mumbled something about leaving, but I didn’t even look at her as she slipped out the door. My focus was entirely on Dean—the man who’d claimed to love me, who’d made me believe I was his everything.

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” I stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You want to talk about fair? I gave you everything, Dean. I stood by you through all the crap with Sam, the apocalypse, the Mark of Cain. Hell, I even put up with your obsession with pie. And this is what I get?”

He didn’t have an answer. His jaw clenched, and for once, Dean Winchester—the man with a smartass comment for everything—was silent.

I turned on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The days after I walked out of that motel room felt like crawling through shards of glass. I told myself I was better off without him, that I deserved more than what he gave me. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the ache in my chest didn’t fade. It was like carrying a wound that refused to heal.

Every time my phone buzzed, my heart betrayed me, leaping with hope, only to crash when I saw the screen. Dean called constantly at first—voicemails, texts, all pleading for a chance to explain.

“Y/N, please. I screwed up. Just… talk to me. Let me fix this.”

But I couldn’t bear to hear his voice, not when it haunted me even in silence.

Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his words playing over and over in my head. That stupid, broken look on his face when I caught him. The way his voice cracked as he tried to justify the unjustifiable.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not…

Baby when I know you’re only sorry you got caught

But you put on quite a show, really had me going…

Now it’s time to go, curtains finally closing

I tried to hate him, to convince myself he was just like every other man who’d let me down. But that was the problem—Dean wasn’t like anyone else. He was everything. The way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in his world. The way he’d pull me close after a hunt, his lips on my forehead, whispering that he’d always keep me safe. And yet, he was the one who’d broken me.

I couldn’t escape the memories, no matter how hard I tried. Every corner of my life was touched by him. The leather jacket he’d left draped over the back of my chair. The stupid pie recipe he’d convinced me to try, still pinned to my fridge. Even my car smelled faintly of his cologne, like it was mocking me every time I climbed in.

My best friend tried to help. She dragged me out for drinks, told me I deserved better, cursed Dean’s name with a venom that should’ve made me feel better.

But it didn’t. Because deep down, I knew she was wrong. Dean wasn’t a bad man. He was a broken one. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because he’d been broken long before me, and I’d foolishly thought I could be the one to fix him.

Weeks passed, and the silence between us stretched, but the ache never faded. I avoided places I thought he might show up, though part of me secretly hoped he would. Maybe he’d come to the diner where I worked, storming through the door with that determined look in his eyes, telling me he wasn’t giving up.

But he didn’t.

So I told myself I was moving on. I focused on work, threw myself into tasks, and pretended I didn’t notice the empty space beside me where Dean used to be.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and there was no one to distract me, I’d feel it—the crushing weight of losing him. Not just the man who’d kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe, but the partner who’d fought beside me, the friend who’d laughed with me, the lover who’d held me when the nightmares came.

Loving Dean had been both the best and worst decision of my life. Because even though he’d broken me, even though I knew I deserved better, I couldn’t stop loving him. And that was the cruelest part of all.

The next day there was a knock on my door. It was soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of rain outside. I didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. I’d felt his presence long before I opened the door.

When I finally turned the handle, there he was—Dean Winchester, soaking wet, his rain-drenched hair falling over his forehead, and his leather jacket clinging to his broad shoulders. His eyes locked on mine, a storm of emotions swirling in that familiar green.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough like gravel, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’d run here.

“Dean,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want him here, not after everything he’d done. And yet, the sight of him—so broken, so desperate—tugged at something deep in me.

“Don’t shut me out,” he pleaded, stepping forward, but not too close, like he was afraid I’d slam the door in his face. “I know I don’t deserve you. Hell, I don’t deserve even a second of your time after what I did. But I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

I crossed my arms, trying to shield myself from the wave of emotions crashing over me. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t do this, Y/N. I thought I could live without you, thought I could figure out a way to move on, but I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his words. “I thought it would be hell without you, but I was wrong. It was worse—so much worse.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself. “You think a pretty speech is going to fix this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You broke me, Dean. You destroyed me. Do you even understand what you did to me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. His green eyes burned into mine, raw and vulnerable. “I wake up every day and hate myself for it. For letting you walk out, for betraying you. For being the kind of guy you could never trust again.”

I wanted to yell at him, to shove him away, but the look on his face—like he was unraveling right in front of me—made my anger falter.

“I didn’t come here to ask you to forgive me,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I came here because I can’t breathe without you, Y/N. I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine.”

“Dean,” I started, my voice wavering, but he cut me off.

“I love you,” he said, stepping closer, his hand hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. “And I know I don’t deserve to say it after what I did, but it’s the truth. I love you so damn much it’s killing me.”

His words unraveled the fragile walls I’d built around my heart. A sob escaped my throat, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I hate that I still love you.”

Dean exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He closed the small gap between us, his hands finally cradling my face with a gentleness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Just… please, Y/N. Let me try.”

Before I could respond, his lips found mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, searching, like he was asking for permission with every brush of his lips. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered against my lips, his breath warm and tinged with desperation. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel in my arms.”

“Dean,” I breathed, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down my jaw and neck. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch, craving him despite everything.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. And I’ll never let you go again.”

I pulled back slightly, my hands on his chest. “You broke me once, Dean. If you do it again, I swear I won’t make it so easy for you…”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes fierce as he cupped my face. “I swear on everything, Y/N. There’s no one else. There never was. It was always you.”

The raw honesty in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I kissed him again, harder this time, pouring all my pain, anger, and love into it. He groaned into my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.

For the first time in weeks, I felt whole. Dean might have broken me, but he was the only one who could put me back together. And as I let him pull me into his arms, I realized I wasn’t ready to give up on us—not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Ya’ll writing this one broke me 😭 but that’s the part of this challenge is to write out of my comfort zone. I’m always getting inspired by songs. Also I don’t picture Dean as someone who would EVER cheat but for the sake of this story I made him this way — don’t crucify me 🫣

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed this one — I love you all!

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

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[disenchantedif]

Luci has wing trauma? Would he let MC touch them during the crushing stage maybe or is it a hard no for all?

Assuming you wanted Lucien by the pronouns so…

Ex-Lucien romance route ;)

His back is tense, you can see the muscles pulled taught beneath tanned brown skin. His hair is down, falling just past his shoulders in a tumble of waves, and you ache looking at him.

You can’t make this mistake again. Your heart can’t afford it.

Reaching out anyways, fingers brushing his shoulder. He flinches ever so slightly, but eventually relaxes and sinks into your touch.

Don’t do this, you remind yourself. Don’t break your own heart.

Then he looks back. Brown eyes are wide and wet, holding an unfathomable hope that takes a sledgehammer to your poorly constructed walls.

“Is this okay?” You whisper, dragging your fingers slowly through the feathers.

He’d eaten shit when he fell, that’s for sure. You’d already patched up his left elbow, which had been sluggishly bleeding. Now his feathers need to be set to rights. You notice he tenses when you brush over where wings meet skin.

A small barren path, and what looks like a burn scar. That…hadn’t been there before. You’d seen all of Lucien once upon a time and this was certainly something you would’ve taken note of.

“Fine,” He breaths out, shaky, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” You say, inching around so you kneel before him, reaching a hand out to brush hair from his cheek.

You want to curse yourself. That’s something…That’s not something you can do now. That’s from before.

His eyes widen at the touch and he makes no move to dislodge your hand.

You do it for him, you fingertips aching for the feel of his skin once it’s gone. The look in his eyes tell you he feels the same.

“Just let me take care of you.” You whisper, “Please.”

It’s as much of an admission you’re willing to make. Still, he seems to glow with the words you speak, his wings shivering behind him.

He bows his head once, “Alright.”

[malverav]

beasts of the briar: 2 books in 9 hours and absolutely all of mega rambly stream of consciousness thoughts about beasts and i shill for garth nix, not for the last time

So i started reading book 1 at 2am as an insomnia read, because once my insomnia hits, it stays, and i'm awake until bedtime tomorrow (thanks vyvanse!). Wanted easier than my recent bedtime reading, a small town in germany by john le carre. It's dense and i read the looking glass war right before it, which was clever but a slow burning, subtle novel. i was in the mood for something lighter, and was thinking about trying to read more sarah j maas (i read acotar in 2022 and hated it. I'm giving the next one a fair crack once my reservation comes in, but it was just so... not fun? Not boring but really dry). I have a fairytale themed market coming in march, know fey are big, but haven't been keeping up with popular fey lit At All so if i want to make fanart to get people to look at my stall, it should probably be a throne of x an y?

ANYWAY

(also don't follow me please if you want like, uncritical take or breathless praise of a series/author (unless it's garth nix, we stan nix on this blog). i'm not attacking you personally if you love it, but i'm over 25 and this is my tumblr blog where i have my opinions. peace)

also im spoiling stuff if you care about that

My friend recced beasts of the briar as totally unconsciousness madness with a plot as subtle as a sledgehammer, so obviously i'm in for it. I'd rather have rubbish someone cooked with pure joy/horny than something boring and technically "good".

Anyway i finished book 2 at about 11am. I'm a fast reader and couldn't sleep, but i like it a lot! I read 2 books in 9 hours! Like let's be real, it is not Classically Good and it definitely reads like fanfic of something else, but it's like, fanfic on a03 in 2010 that's got an air of respectability, it's had a couple of betas and a regular update schedule for a while. You can tell that someone's having a blast writing it. I'm interested to see if they keep the core heat of the dynamic as they start to you know, spoilers, pair people off and solve curses. For me, I feel like the dynamic is starting to cool/stale with Kel/Rose and Farron/Rose. Kel/Ez? *sucking in a breath thru my teeth, leaning back in my chair, white knuckled* anyway Book 2 has barely touched this ship and I'm reading for it. Thank you, EH, for writing this for Me, your horniest nb reader. I appreciate the slow burn while Day/Fare make me roll my eyes so much they roll onto the floor after a while. Don't ever talk about your feelings directly in a romance unless you're forced to. My cardinal sin. Tension evaporates when people therapy talk. Therapy fuck instead, that's how kink works and you get an insight into a character with how they process what scares them into what turns them on this is a post for another time moving on

It's a common issue in romance imo where once the initial tension wears off or breaks, if there's no other "plot" to carry the book it's really hard to keep me hooked. It's best short and sweet, in maybe 20-80k word bursts imo. More than that wordcount I think you need to dream up a plot first and a good romantic dynamic second - most writers (including EH) aren't good enough to carry full novels on characters alone. I can write smoking hot 10k word smut scenes. That's the hard limit for me before I have to start spinning a plot around it, which is so much fucking harder so I absolutely sympathise with the dilemma - if she'd solved the personal issues of the 4 MCs (and +1 secret love interest with Cas, honey, EH, that flower on the ground representing her mate bond with him was so blunt I flinched but you know what I like it anyway because I think you liked too). The plot/worldbuilding is on the thin side, not meaty enough to carry the book all by itself without the romance. There's a huge disparity in stakes with the fate of the Enchanted Vale HANGING in the BALANCE of this ROMANCE and not on the actions of any other character's plots or actions

I think this book reading like fanfic (and let's be real, the trope marketing of these types of books) makes the romantic conclusion generally a sure thing, which takes the air out of any non-romance plot conflict because the characters will solve it with romance. Eg, the bond/mate thing here being the plot answer means that characters who aren't in the main romantic sphere mean very little. So you can kill them as the author because we know they're "safe". . Niamh (queen shit rip miss u already) did nothing meaningful. The side characters (Fare's cool adorable brothers, Rose's dad, Astrid, Marigold (love her tho)) and even the VILLAINS all feel really cardboard because we as the readers know they won't impact the final stakes unless it's to drive our MCs further in love. We know the resoution is that they're all gonna live in a happy polycule and Cas will be fixed with the power of love. But, that means that when you kill Niamh or imprison/defeat uh... Jafar - sorry, evil vizier Perth (reading this book as an Aussie is so fucking funny but that's a separate post ok) it's a bit meaningless. Perversely (hah!) it has a negative impact on the sex, too, because it's too much sweet and not enough vegetables (other plot stuff/character connections). It's like watching a movie that's nonstop action scenes - you feel tired watching it because there's no variety. How many times are Day/Fare/Rose/some combination going to fuck with basically the same beats in the sex scene? Too many. I was getting bored. Sorry.

side note GIIIIIRL PERTH IS VILLAIN QUEER CODED LIKE JAFAR IN A BOOK WITH 4x QUEER MALE MCs I praise EH for the courage to fall back on the classic lazy tropes in book 1 so they can handwave politics and get back to the porn. Shine on.

And the author's game of keep away with the specifics of Kel's vow with Cas, what exactly happened there at the start is wearing preeeeetttttyyy fucking tired. Fucking talk to each other. This stuff only works in a romance with a small cast because there's very few other characters Rose isn't romantically involved with that she can talk to, and fewer still that she's on equal terms with - remember, Astrid and Marigold are servants and serving in Castletree is a big honour, and while they act like the prince's friends/fans let's not forget how some of the pretty boys (Day) kill their own citizens pretty thoughtlessly, so if Astrid was to betray her liege lord's trust and tell Rose (and the reader) the truth, she's risking death by Kel's hand, being banished back to Winter, or having to flee to the Below. And there'd be no concequences for Kel apart from Rose probably having a huff a bout it but getting over it eventually. Not great!

The "oh I can't tell Rose this it's my GREATEST SHAME" is dull after the first two reveals, and I feel like we have more of these to go where she accepts them and heals them because Castletree is a fucking construction site with how Rose is fixing these boys (lame! hate how she's always the damsel/healer/fixer - ez is literally a healer but doesn't fill the healer/heart/gendered female caretaker role in this polycule and i reckon i'd like it a lot better if he did - based on sexual tension with kel and the early line about mummy and daddy fighting, this shit writes itself (ok personal ick to daddy/mummy dynamics but im too genderqueer to not like to fuck with power + gender/roles another post another post omfg)). There's other ways to create tension in a romance, but you need to lean harder into the Other Plot to make it richer. Or have Rose be a Bad Person and be disgusted at what they've done, but imo backstory reveals are boring, tell your story onscreen, coward.

In my opinion. In minecraft. This is longer than I thought. Also for the record! I like this series! I think it's still fun and the narrative voice is cheesy but I really like it, and I'm looking forward to reading more books. Oh, and looking at the community on here, it's been so long since I engaged in a fandom.

Ok last side note I also like how everyone's super normal about everyone being bi/pan, at least in the male MCs. I haven't caught much queer/poly romance elsewhere in other characters - lots of 2 parent households and het monogomous relationships, apart from the random hot fae people of various genders except Rose fuck. No nbs so far but I'm used to not seeing anyone resembling me in a book.

(Notable exceptions to the romance notes above? Garth Nix's recent books (Frogkisser, Terciel and Elanor, Booksellers books) all are a great romance and have a fabulous plot, so the romance in a book like that feels fleshed out and meaningful. But that's another blog post. But, rest assured, you like Regency fantasy? Read Frogkisser. You like to read/like books (or like American Gods, Good Omens, Skulduggery Pleasant)? Read Left Handed Booksellers of London. Butchy FMC and NB love interest in the 80s, come OnNNNnnnNNnNNNnn Garth Nix writing books for healing my inner queer teen. If I read Angel Mage or Booksellers I'd probably be out with they/them pronouns being a blazing queer in all spheres of my irl life, not just the close ones. I cried a bit reading Booksellers when Merlin is just, very genderqueer as a matter of fact because that's a character like me and my favourite childhood author knows people like me exist and lets them be awesome in his books. I tear up thinking about it and I'm nearly 30. Fucking read it even if there's no smut. Angel Mage is on the three musketeers. There's a great female villain. If you're from the US you may not have heard of Nix. You're missing out so fucking bad and I'm sorry.)

I ramble. My vyvanse wore off a couple hours ago so this is my diary now. Never expect short posts.

[racingliners]

F1 Re-Watch 2022: Round 19 - USA

More mild shock because it’s a race I did remember to watch C4 highlights of!!

Granted, the bulk of my memories around this race were Lewis nearly winning, Seb leading for one (1) lap and Seb and Kevin’s INSANE last lap battle for P8.

Oh and once again everyone wore cowboy hats because Texas

So, grab your team coloured Stetsons and let’s jump in!

I think this race was good?? I mean I hope it is

I actually like COTA as a track, it’s pretty decent (and the best of all the current USA tracks by a mile imho)

(yes I’m saying that despite us being months away from Vegas bc what is the Vegas layout 😭)

Anyway, starting grid whiplash:

“Lots of drivers out of position thanks to penalties” 2015 McLaren Honda flashbacks

ouch Dan P15 & Charles P12.

BUT SEB TOP 10 YEAAAAAAAH BOI

LANCE P5!!!!!!! LEWIS P3!!!!!! INJECT IIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

I love it when the starting grid whiplash is actually nice

“This race could be anyone’s today” Really Crofty??? Really??? When the RB18 exists???

Helmet watch: Lewis’ neon yellow helmet with the purple visor >>>>>>

They had to change Lewis’ brakes before the start???? I really will be taking a sledgehammer to the W13 when I’m finished re-watching 2022

[Start/Lap 1]: Oh... a Merc murdered Sainz at turn 1

or not he’s gotten going he’s just at the back

oh it was Russell erguhaii

The saga of George Russell’s violence against the grid continues

anyway SEB UP INTO P5!!!!!!!!!

THAT’S! MY! BOOOOOOOOOOY!!!!!!!!!

[Lap 2]: aaaaaaand Sainz DNF. 

Charles up to P9

LANCE IS IN P3??????

STOP THE RACE

TEAM GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN 💚💚💚💚💚💚

[Lap 3]: and 5 sec penalty for Russell t-boning Sainz

Meanwhile Albon has no grip, and has dropped to P10 from P8 and has Bottas all up in his business

“The Aston Martin is working well around here” Inject it, frame it, capture it, remember it

the AMR22 is a tractor no more!!!!

“Lightning reactions from Lewis Hamilton” Of course??? He’s a king, tell us something we don’t know

[Lap 5]: No George, don’t overtake Lance. That would be rude.

also boo Perez got past Seb

welp Lance demoted to P4

“Howdy Crofty!” HI TED!!!! 👋

[Lap 6]: aw no Nicky spun 😔

oh Perez’s front wing is not looking healthy, front wing endplate went poof

(Alexa play I Want to Break Free by Queen)

[Lap 7]: Meanwhile Lance and Seb are vibing in P5 and P6 as the unbothered Kings they are 💚

....Lewis is three tenths faster than Verstappen you say???

please tell me we get a Hammertime radio it has been SO LONG

[Lap 8]: I’m ignoring the Ferrari radio that came up telling Charles they’re already thinking about Plan B :))))))))

Perez v Russell... I fear much violence

[Lap 9]: Charles up to P7, the race seems to have calmed down for now

I may cry at the Seb and Charles battle though, I miss them 😭

[Lap 10]: and the gap is down to 8 tenths, @ TV director show me my boys!!!

It’s also seemingly fucking WIMDY at COTA

[Lap 11]: oh the #JustLewisThings of him saying he’s not happy with his tyres then proceeding to set a purple sector, nature is healing

ahhhhhhh there’s Charles v Seb!!!!

The fact that this would have caused me pain in 19 & 20 but now we’re rejoicing. Growth!!

[Lap 12]: Gasly pits, after Bottas pitted the lap before, overcut win!

and back to Charles v Seb

and Charles gets past pretty easily

HAMMERTIME RADIO!!!! IT’S BEEN 84 YEARS!!!!

Bono I’m sending you a basket of the finest pastries AND flowers

[Lap 13]: Lewis pits for hards??? I’m still recovering from the radio message so I’m not fully processing what’s going on

aw Lewis came out behind Seb after pitting

[Lap 14]: Verstappen and Russell pit, also both for hards

oh my days Lance trying to fight him GO ON MY SON

anyway this is a very early pit window, I can only assume it was a bit warm on race day

Charles up into P3, but he’s yet to stop

[Lap 15]: Perez pits for hards also

LANCE P3!!! SEB P4!!!! STOP! THE! RACE!

“Aston Martin running in the top 3 for the first time this season” *longest yeah boi ever*

[Lap 16]: And Lance pits for... mediums

And Lewis got past Seb for P3

and sets the fastest first sector. 

Esteban and Mick having a slightly spicy battle, mainly bc Esteban’s car got caught by some wind

[Lap 17]: “Plan E consider” p a i n 

I mean at least it came from Charles but Ferrari kindly fuck off

[Lap 18]: Yellow flag sector 3????

oh Bottas is beached in the gravel

OH shit Safety Car

ah AM Safety Car my beloved

Will Ferrari be smart and pit Charles under the SC??

[Lap 19]: THEY DO!!! They found their braincell!!!

“Plan EEEEEEE this is lucky for us!” I love Ted so much

oh Seb pits too!! nice!!

Charles in P4, Seb in P6. WE’RE VIBING FOLKS!!!

oh replay of the George on Sainz violence at the start again

[Lap 20]: First SC at Austin since 2015 apparently, a somewhat fun fact (That was a half wet race iirc??? I’m not sure)

fuck what is this drone footage I’m getting vertigo

Lewis still having brake issues, I will sledgehammer the W13 and then burn it

[Lap 21]: SC ending, boys please don’t be dumb I don’t want any carnage

Lewis the filling in a RBR sandwich... does NOT spark joy

phew no nonsense as of yet

[Lap 22]: SEB TAKES P6!!!!

And Esteban locks up and Mick takes P12 

OH SHIT FERNANDO

AND LANCE

NOOOOOO

that was not the fun whiplash fyi

And of course Crofty mentions the fact that we had future teammate on teammate violence

[Lap 23]: Also I’m sorry but Lance’s car is on the track and there’s debris everywhere, where is the red flag?????

...

Not Fernando hitting Lance’s rear and then doing a wheelie

F1 CARS SHOULDN’T DO THAT

that really did not spark joy

the various on-board replays of debris flying everywhere are also not sparking joy

[Lap 24]: This race has been surprisingly eventful despite not having that much actual racing oh my days

Lance walking alone through the paddock... Alonso you can meet my fists

[Lap 25]: SC ending, again boys please DON’T BE DUMB

I am anxious

restart 2 electric boogaloo - so far no carnage

[Lap 26]: “Sebastian Vettel gaining on George Russell” screaming, crying clutching my chest in euphoria

oh he is legit closing up on him 

go on Seb, get him!!!

[Lap 27]: 8 tenths of a second gap 👀👀👀

okay the gap is fluctuating between 8 tenths and 1.1 seconds but I’m on full hopium and delusion

[Lap 28]: DRS re-enabled

Nicky fastest on the speed trap. Goatifi intensifies.

also I heard Ted say news from McLaren and I immediately had the ‘McLaren news’ jingle from The Fast and The Curious podcast play in my head thanks Chris Hugill 

[Lap 29]: Seb now 2.2 seconds behind Russell, the hopium was fun while it lasted

Charles v Perez???? 👀👀👀👀👀

[Lap 30]: CHARLES WITH THE LUNGE TAKES P3!!!!

woot woooooooot!!!!

“And there’s a lot of fans here that will want to kiss Charles for that” yes and I’m one of them get in line

[Lap 32]: Meanwhile George still has a loose endplate on his front wing after his lap 1 violence

[Lap 33]: Verstappen apparently not very happy with the wind

Oh, Mick and Kevin both in the Top 10!!!! We adore to see it!!!

[Lap 34]: Why are we cutting to Ed Sheeran???? Show me the cars!!!

Mick and Yuki both pit

[Lap 35]: and Lewis pits, undercut maybe??

oh and Yuki’s undercut did work on passing Norris

[Lap 36]: Verstappen pits

and it’s slow 👀

LEWIS TAKES THE NET RACE LEAD

😭🙌

More Perez on Russell fisticuffs

[Lap 37]: ah nvm Russell pits

[Lap 38]: Charles v Verstappen... spicy

both of them are on the mediums while Lewis is on the hards

[Lap 39]: Perez pits

AND SEB TAKES THE LEAD!!!!!

STOP! THE! RACE!!!!

Oh Charles doing the switcheroo on Verstappen, BEAUTIFUL

AND Seb P1, with Lewis P2. I know the end result and I do not care but STOP THE RACE!!

Seb leading his 3,500th lap, I love him so much 😭😭😭😭

[Lap 40]: Cut to Seb in the lead with Lewis P2, feels so good and SO organic

[Lap 41]: Lewis takes the lead, not surprising, but seeing them on track together one last time was very beautiful

and diving head first into the sea of delusion we go Lewis is def gonna win right? 🥲

this race has legit been so fun though

“Good to see Sebastian Vettel up there” preach it Ted!!!!!

[Lap 42]: 15 laps left. yelling.

slow stop for Seb 😭😭😭😭😭😭

16.8 seconds 😭

It’s okay Team Green I still love you

[Lap 43]: no don’t go back to the drone cam it’s not fun

Charles still in DRS range of Verstappen

[Lap 44]: But Verstappen goes half a second quicker than Lewis...

welp

[Lap 45]: Perez going 1.5 secs quicker with a borked front wing??? What is going on in the House of Commons????

Seb watch: in P13 1.6 seconds behind Yuki

Norris v Ocon!!! Beloved midfield spice!!!!

[Lap 46]: Lewis and Verstappen doing almost identical lap times on similar age of tyres, though on different compounds. STRESS.

[Lap 47]: 10 laps left 😬

Gap just under two seconds, love how I’m slightly stressed despite knowing the end podium 😂

It’s the ✨ emotional investment ✨

[Lap 48]: Now would be a great time for another Hammertime radio Bono just saying

SEB ONBOARD

He’s in P12 after Ocon pitted

He’s on the back of a DRS train on fresher tyres LET’S GET IT WELTMEISTER!!!

[Lap 49]: Alonso’s mirror just... fell off????

alrighty then

ughhhhhh Verstappen has DRS

I am stressed Angela and stressed Angela is me

[Lap 50]: Thank you Brundle I really needed you to list all of Verstappen’s car advantages 😭

But more importantly SEB INTO P10 KLAXON!!!!!

...

fuck me I did not breathe during Lewis’ and Verstappen’s battle

Lewis did not give up though and I love him for it

[Lap 52]: SEB INTO P9!!!!!!

and back down to P10, he’s having some fistcuffs with Albon

and round the outside, back into the points, that’s my 4 time world champion

6.3 secs behind Kevin with 4 laps left

It’s fun knowing what happens in advance sometimes

ohhh Seb let Albon back by bc he went off, that’s fair

[Lap 53]: Verstappen assigned track limits criminal by GP, Bono, and Lewis

and then Lewis gets a warning himself svuoheaugh

boys

[Lap 54]: The one positive is that the RBR has not streaked off into the distance, the W13 has some rights.

I mean I’m still going to take a sledgehammer to it though

[Lap 55]: Seb watch: 3.2 seconds behind Kevin now

oh and already down to 2 seconds 👀

gap between Lewis and Max is three seconds though 😭

[Lap 56]: Ignoring the front and watching Seb on the running order, gap down to 1.5 seconds

...now 8 tenths of a second

(I know the overtake is coming but the hype is fun)

[Finish]: Verstappen wins, Lewis P2 and Charles P3!!!

now show me Seb!!!!!

THERE HE IS!!!!!!

go on go on go onnnnn

AND DOWN THE INSIDE HE GOES!!!!!

SEB P8!!!!!!!! THAT’S!!! MY!!!!  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

elmowithfire.gif

such a peach of a move like... Go off King you dropped this 👑

gonna celebrate with the biscoff ice cream mum just brought me 🥳

Well, that was actually a pretty fun race!!! You didn’t really know who was going to win until the last few laps, which could not be said for a lot of races in 2022 imho. Charles going from P12 to P3 was iconic af, Lewis making the most of his first proper chance in ages for a win was superb, and Seb was just doing iconic Seb shit... AND we got some midfield spice to boot!!

Overall, 8 front wings out of 10. Next race: Mexico!

[icharchivist]

Hello again, it's me, the fanfic writer

First of all, thanks so, so much for your sweet comments, I always love rereading them, you're a joy to write for <3

But secondly, I just have to let you know that out of the three husbandos of the askbox, Belial is not the worst one to write for

Sure, inspiration for him tends to hit me like a sledgehammer, but I've had a WIP with him lying around for two years now and he's never bothered me about it. He's just perfectly happy to lounge around in the back of my mind and wait until I'm ready to give him the time of day again. Very patient

Lu Woh surprised me, because he genuinely hit me out of nowhere - and we already talked about how weird the timing of it all was - because I didn't think I'd write for him at any point. He gave me a nice and simple idea that I originally even thought about just leaving in the askbox before I decided to flesh it out a bit and then didn't push any further. While I was supposed to go to sleep, I figured hey, let's just finish this thing right now, it's short and sweet, after all. So I did and everyone was happy

It's Seofon who then decided to be a pest

I didn't plan on writing anything for him either, I didn't really have any fun ideas, but then I kept getting hit with that stargazing scenario. Like he slipped the boundary some money to insistently prod me while I was trying to fall asleep

Well, it worked. I hope he's happy, because he was holding my sleep hostage until I delivered

I had to get on his piece literally right after I'd finished Lu Woh's. Madness

So yeah, before you try anything, know that Seofon can be incredibly annoying when he wants attention. But I guess that isn't altogether all that surprising

I definitely took some inspiration from asks I'd seen here before, I remember one Anon bringing up stealing his cape, for instance and I completely agree, if your partner has something like that, it's your legal obligation to steal it

And the ask about him fake-stretching to put an arm around you, because I could just see it so vividly

So big thanks to everyone here for being such a big inspiration, as always <3 Please take care

aahhh it's so so good to see you again hi <333

And aah i'm so glad you liked reading the comments, you deserve all the praises for all the goodies you bring us at all time and i'm so happy you enjoy that <33

as for the husbando madness, holy shit.

This is a miracle that somehow Belial isn't the worst. He seems to be behaving very nicely compared to his usual habits, i'm very impressed.

for Lu Woh, this is scary. Once again probably a bit of the hivemind because the timing is insane but, damn. He really came to you like a surprise. but it's so nice that he gave you a good idea and honestly, the Lu Woh story was really cute, i loved it.

(since it hasn't officially been linked, here it is)

"It's Seofon who then decided to be a pest" yeah that tracks (and that wording is making me laugh so hard)

(relinking the Seofon fic here)

"Like he slipped the boundary some money" dLKFJDKLFJDFLK THIS IS SO FUNNY. it really does feel like he kept nudging you like Daaaanchouuuu-chaaaaan where is MY fanfic. Amn't i in your thoughts enough. Please pretty please. please.

but in the end it really worked out so well, it's honestly so amazing. I noticed the timing between the Seofon fic and the Lu Woh fic was tight, but damn i didn't expect it to really be this "ok i'm done with Lu Woh, here, are you happy Seofon?"…. like their fight in a way.

Honestly the fact i could recognize some of the asks' prompt was so funny, i felt like

everytime there was a prompt i know i saw on my DMs. It was really funny.

Agreed totally on the stealing cape and the stretching, this is so fitting of him that it makes total sense you included it in your fic.

I'm so glad that this place can give you all the inspiration you need to write a bit more <333 what a delight! I'm genuinely so happy you feel this way and as the owner of this blog this is very humbling to think we can gather here, sharing silly ideas, throwing them at the wall and see what stick and all.

thank you once again for the fics you wrote and thank you for sharing them <333

I'm so delighted to see it and to see this ask ;D

take care!!

[barkingbarghest]

hi please tell me about the zombie christmas musical. i have an inkling i know which one it is and i would love to hear more about it!!

omg lol... ok so it's called Anna and the Apocalypse (AatA) and its primary sin is that it wanted to be Too Much All At Once and consequently became a shambling mass of disjointed ideas. Also it's a great example of writing that is Not Tight. They're trying to do a lot but they're not being efficient about it.

[edit: putting a read more because i.............. well. i typed a lot.]

the Biggest example of this, there's a lot, but like ok they really liked the musical episode of Buffy. And not to spoil Buffy, but the song at the climax of the musical episode of Buffy is where Buffy sings about her conflicting duty as The Guy Who Fights Monsters and her desire to stop fighting and take the rest she's earned from saving the world you know like, several times. There's more to it but again I don't want to spoil Buffy in case that's something you're into

How that relates is, that the people who wrote AatA really liked that number and they were like "ok let's do that" so the song at the climax of the movie has our heroine singing about how she's a reluctant hero who will fight since that's what's expected of her. "It's been said the world's a stage / and everyone must play their part / well if that's true I'll act with all my heart" and "There are some things in life / you just can't control / but I'm ready to fight / I was born for this role" it's all very reminiscent of Buffy "magical girl who is the only person who can fight vampires and whatever" The Vampire Slayer... except Anna, our heroine, is not at all like Buffy and has no reason to feel this way.

Anna and the Apocalypse is a story about some high school students in a small town in Scotland who have to reckon with zombies at Christmastime. Anna is our main character, and she is a disillusioned teen who doesn't care about stuff and she just wants to get out of this dead end town and she doesn't care about people etc etc. It would be a fitting narrative if she started off like this, and through the events of the movie and the zombie apocalypse, she learns that when push comes to shove she does care about people and she is willing to fight for them, but she doesn't. Her characterization is a flat line except when the movie needs her to be something else. It's very noticeable and weird.

And like, the whole cast is like this. We follow a handful of kids besides Anna: John is Anna's friend singular and he's got a crush on her but she's friendzoned him and that's kind of it, Steph is a social justice warrior working on a film project and struggling with being an outsider by proxy of being a transfer student, Chris is a filmmaker roped into helping Steph, Lisa is Chris' girlfriend who exists for 1) singing a horny song and 2) it's sad when she dies via zombie, and Nick who is a Mean Hot Boy who had a fling with Anna and maybe he wants more of that but she doesn't but it doesn't matter because it doesn't go anywhere because this movie is 98 minutes long and we've got a lot to do and we're not very efficient storytellers!

The antagonist is the vice principal (vice dean?) Mr. Savage who is Comedically Villainous and not in a campy way just in a sledgehammer way. He hates kids and he hates the idea of fun but he likes being able to take away their candy and boss people around. Which leads me to my next point: tone. this movie does not balance comedy and drama. It's so bad. It wants these heartfelt moments but it can't commit to them and it wants to be funny but The Christmas School Pageant is so bad and guys we can be funny without resorting to kids and adults reacting to Lisa's horny song and the bad rap about fish that's bad on purpose which is the joke.. it's so bad. That screen time could have gone to so many other things. Better things.

They should have given a side plot to John and Steph, 1) because it would give John a much needed focus-that-isn't-Anna and 2) because John and Steph share an insecurity about not being bold enough. John sings about how he's too cowardly to tell Anna how he feels and Steph sings about how she's worried nobody will take her documentary about the homeless problem seriously and she's just another voice in the crowd. Do something with that! C'mon!!

And it's wild because like there ARE good things about this movie like the songs are pretty catchy, and the actors mostly do a great job with what they've been given, and I remember the choreography being pretty fun, but christ bacon sandwich the writing!

There's like, a song where the kids are huddled in a building looking at news stories about the zombie thing and being worried about their families and their own survival, but then the song they are singing is about the tragedy of kids these days being on their phones all the time and lacking a 'human connection'??? It's so disconnected from the story.

'Turning My Life Around', a duet between Anna and John where they juxtapose the characters' cheerful optimism with the zombie thing starting (imagine kids dancing down a street and in the background of the shot there's a guy spurting blood it's that kind of thing). It's a fun song and a fun scene and it's great. For some reason, Anna has taken her antidepressants for this song and this song only! Immediately before the song she is a sulky teen and immediately after the song she is a sulky teen. But! For the bit! She is cheerful!

Ok I've gotta stop because but I'll close argument with this list of inspirations from Wikipedia:

"Director John McPhail said that Anna and the Apocalypse was influenced by the films West Side Story (1961), The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and The Breakfast Club (1985), as well as the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode "Once More, with Feeling". McPhail also said that the film includes "nods" to the zombie films Night of the Living Dead (1968), Dawn of the Dead (1978), The Evil Dead (1981), The Happiness of the Katakuris (2001) and Shaun of the Dead (2004). The crop tops and short shorts seen in the film were inspired by the costume design in the slasher film Sleepaway Camp (1983)."

My guy that is too many things to try and be at once.

wait wait wait also John's harmony at the end of Break Away is so good and I love to sing that part where everyone's singing the refrain and he's singing about how he doesn't want Anna to leave in direct contrast with the rest of the cast singing about the things they're trying to get away from. Malcom Cumming if you're out there you did a great job on this movie.

also the incredibly Scottish line "What was I thinking / This isn'ae Disney" mwah chef's kiss

[inanotheruniversemusings]

Temporally graded retrograde amnesia.

Doctor Mayfield breaks the news like any doctor would, professional and completely detached.

But Kara feels like she’s taken a sledgehammer straight to her chest, and it hurts—physically, tangibly—even more so when she sees the devastation dawn on Lena’s face.

(Because three years ago, Kara’s entire world had shifted in just three words, and she had put Lena first, over anyone else including herself.

Lena’s pain became her pain. And right now, Lena looks like she’s been split in half, and Kara feels that she has been too.)

“But it will come back, right?” Nia asks, her helpless gaze fleeting between Kelly and Doctor Mayfield.

“We’ll need a thorough MRI just to be sure,” the doctor replies, then, “but based on the scans we have now, it is temporary. There’s just no way of telling when exactly her memories will come back.”

“Is there a way to bring it back? Like maybe, therapy?”

Doctor Mayfield shakes her head. “Minus the amnesia, her brain is actually healthy. Any aggressive treatment may do more harm than good.”

“But…” Nia starts to say, then pauses as she swallows visibly. “How can we help?”

“You can tell her stories, show her pictures. But, please, take it easy. It rarely happens that memories come back in a day or two.”

“How long does it usually take?” Lillian speaks, though the way she chances a glance at Kara makes Kara think that it’s more for her sake than anyone else’s.

Yet, Kara’s scared of hearing the answer, and when Doctor Mayfield says it could be months or even years, Kara balls her fingers to fists, nails digging moons on her palm.

Because fate is both cruel and merciful. It lets the accident not leave anything that will permanently scar, only cuts and bruises that will heal in due time.

It just had to take Lena’s memories in exchange.

Doctor Mayfield leaves but Kelly stays. She shrugs her white coat off, like her day is over, and folds it neatly in two, letting it rest on the railing at the foot of Lena’s bed.

Kelly props herself on the mattress, taking Lena’s hand that she traps in between hers. Her palms give off a familiar warmth that Lena welcomes wholeheartedly, because it’s at least something that she remembers hasn’t changed. Kelly’s still the human furnace she’s known since middle school, and she’s still the cold blooded one between the two of them.

(Kara’s hand is warm too, her brain whispers. And it’s a shock and it’s not at the same time, because she only remembers holding Kara’s hand upon waking up, but it feels like she’s been doing it for years that Kara’s warmth is stuck on her skin.)

Her gaze slides down to where Kara is, just as Kelly says, “I’m gonna ask you a few things, okay?”

Kara smiles at her. A soft, encouraging smile that crinkles the sides of her eyes, and Lena can’t just seem to look away for known and unknown reasons.

(Known: Kara is beautiful; so enthralling that she almost feels jealous.

Unknown: Looking at her makes her heart skip beats. And that’s not a good thing at all because she remembers she already has somebody, and feeling this way feels like cheating on him.)

Kelly, though, takes it as Lena zoning out, so she squeezes her best friend’s hand again to snap her back to attention.

Lena returns her wide eyes on Kelly’s own, blinking once, twice, thrice, as if to shake Kara off of her vision.

“Lena?” Kelly checks. Her brows furrow at the sight of what honestly seems like guilt clouding Lena’s eyes. “Is everything okay?”

The other woman nods once, squeezing Kelly’s hand back as if to tell her that she is. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Are you sure? We can do this tomorrow, if you’re not feeling well.”

“No it’s—I’m okay.”

Kelly studies her for a good long second, looking for any sign of discomfort. Lena forces herself to loosen up—she knows Kelly is going to stop at the littlest sign of unease—despite the tautness that grips her shoulders. Born from the uncertainty of everything, and the bleakness of the memories that she’s been trying to chase ever since she’s regained her consciousness.

“Okay,” Kelly sighs. She can see the way Lena is trying to unlax, knows that Lena is not going to be stopped, so she presses on. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lena bites her lip, and her eyes glaze over in a way that Kara, who’s standing a few feet away, doesn’t miss as she digs through murky memories to find what Kelly is asking for.

“It’s—it’s Esme’s first birthday. I was about to go home,” she starts to say, then, her eyes grow even wider in fear as she cranes her neck, frantically looking for someone. “Jack was going to take me home! Where is he?”

“Lena, he’s…”

There’s a look that crosses Kelly’s face that Lena can’t quite place, and it scares her even more because Kelly—the ever articulate Kelly Olsen—seems to have run out of words.

“Please,” Lena breathes out. The hand that Kelly isn’t holding clutches onto Kelly’s scrub top, crumpling the cloth beneath her palm. “Please tell me he’s not dead. Please tell me my boyfriend isn’t dead.”

“Oh god, no,” Kelly clears up quickly, now looking alarmed too just because Lena is. “He’s not. He wasn’t even—”

The relief washes over Lena in the form of a choked sob, one that she tries to muffle as she cups a hand over her mouth.

But it hits Kara just the same, square on her chest. And she finds herself looking at her trembling hands, wondering when exactly did she make that trade: Lena’s heart for a grenade.

...

Kelly manages to calm Lena down eventually. But she looks tired, more tired than when she first woke up, though Kara supposes she would be too, if she found out she was missing four years of her life.

Kelly tells her to go to sleep after the sixth yawn she tries to fight, and there’s not much protest from Lena after that when she also feels her meds start to kick in.

“That should help her sleep longer,” Kelly explains to everyone in the room as she pulls up the white blanket and tucks it under Lena’s arms. Though, her next words are mostly for Kara. “She really needs it.”

Kara lightly presses a button on the side of the bed, bringing the reclined part down. She does it slowly, making sure not to jostle Lena awake.

Though, the movement causes some of Lena’s hair to fall over her closed eyes. Kara leans past the side railings as careful as she can, holding her breath as she brushes them away with the lightest of touches.

Then, she whispers, “How long will it take effect?”

“Six hours, give or take,” replies Kelly. “She’ll wake up just in time for the residents’ rounds.”

“Six hours,” Kara mumbles. She plucks her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, and then swipes and taps a thumb to pull up her clock application.

Nia peers between the other woman and the device curiously. “What’s that for?” She asks as she watches Kara set an alarm that will go off in five hours and thirty minutes.

“It’s uh,” Kara starts, then clears her throat. “It’s so I have some time to leave the room before she wakes up.”

At that, Nia frowns. “But why would you leave?”

“It’d be midnight by the time she wakes up. She’d wonder why I’m still here that late.”

“Okay...” She nods slowly, trying to follow Kara’s train of thought.

“I—it’s not really a friend thing to do,” Kara sighs. And no matter how much she tries to hide it, Nia can hear the traces of defeat in her tone. “She’d probably ask a lot of questions and I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Nia,” she says.

Even though it isn’t.

Even though she’d rather lose her hands than take one step away from the love of her life.

“I’m not really going to leave. I’ll just be right outside. Besides, I have to go back to the apartment anyway to get some of Lena’s stuff.”

Nia lets her hand slide down to Kara’s wrist, squeezing as she asks. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” Kara answers.

She tacks on a tiny smile for Nia’s sake, as Nia grows silent and imploring.

But she’s not fooling Nia; she can never fool Nia, so she says, “You guys go home and rest. I’ll stay with Lena.”

“Alright.” The other woman breathes out a resigned sigh, knowing that she can’t change Kara’s mind. “But, you call me, okay? If you need anything.”

Kara, in turn, pulls her friend into a hug and murmurs in her ear. “Thanks.”

“I mean it, Kara.”

“Yes, I will.”

A subdued Brainy joins in on the embrace, while Winn patiently waits for his turn. Kelly leaves her with a one-armed hug and a tight squeeze on her shoulder.

As Lillian sees their friends off, Kara leans over the bed again and plants a light kiss at the top of Lena’s hair; pulls a chair right beside it that will serve as her spot for the next six hours.

Because Kara has six hours to stop pretending that she’s merely Lena’s friend; for six hours, Kara gets the life she used to have back.

…

So here’s where Kara is now: at the side of Lena’s bed where Nia used to be, holding Lena’s hand and pressing the back of it against her lips.

Kara props an arm on the empty space of the mattress, between a few inches from the edge and the dip of Lena’s waist. She rests her chin above it, content to look at a sleeping Lena.

There are cuts on both her cheeks, shallow and looking like they’re already healing. The purple bruise on her left temple—from when she hit her head against the metal of the car’s window—no longer looks angry. The swelling that surrounded it has gone down, thanks to the pack that Kara made sure to press while Lena stayed asleep days ago.

A gash just above her left eyebrow is covered with a sterile dressing. It didn’t require stitches, but it’s deep enough that it’ll probably scar.

Kara can only be thankful as she lets her eyes roam around Lena’s form, because there are no staple wires needing to hold Lena together, no permanent broken bones that will remind Lena about the accident for the rest of her life.

Yet, the fear still eats its way inside of her, as Lena’s chest falls and rises a second longer than Kara thinks it should.

It coaxes Kara to press a lingering kiss on each of Lena’s knuckles, her lips careful and tender as she turns Lena’s hand over and kisses Lena’s grazed palm.

I’m here weaves through the spaces between Lena’s fingers as I love you sinks into Lena’s skin.

...

It’s a little past midnight by the time Kara’s phone buzzes inside her pocket. She fishes it out with one hand, the other still tightly clasping Lena’s, and dismisses the alarm with a heavy heart.

“You don’t have to leave, Kara,” Lillian says. She walks to where Kara is, and rests both her hands on each of Kara’s shoulders as if to keep her on her seat. “We’ll just come up with an excuse if she asks.”

Kara heaves a deep breath. It hurts to think of leaving Lena’s side at this point, but her brain can’t seem to shut off, the fear of overwhelming Lena taking over her.

A weak smile is all she offers as a response. Then, “She might never stop asking. And I don’t trust myself not to say something stupid.”

She stands from her seat, the moment Lena’s mother lifts her hands off of her. “And I really do need to get some of her stuff from the apartment. I’m sure she’s itching to brush her teeth.”

Lillian’s lips can only twitch in a watery, grateful smile.

...

Being back to their apartment is quite uneventful.

It’s mostly because she’s floating around, her feet mindlessly dragging her from one room to another. But it’s quite clear that her head is somewhere else—left in a small, brightly-lit room with a single-sized bed that bears her entire world.

It is quite uneventful, and Kara is almost hopeful that it’ll last till the next day. It’s the closest thing that she’s had for a breather, and she really, really, could use one.

It is, until she mistakenly takes a turn that leads her down to their kitchen, passing by their refrigerator covered in bills, all kinds of papers, and post-it notes.

The topmost note stuck above the water bill that she just paid is what catches her attention. It’s in Lena’s neat handwriting: Can’t wait to celebrate our third with you! I know it’s a week early, but humor me, please. And the end of Love you swirls into one of Lena’s random doodles.

Kara lightly runs a finger on the doodle that Lena had signed the note with. There’s a sudden onslaught of tears that is threatening to fall, and Kara has to lean her forehead against the fridge door, hoping that the cold will distract her.

It doesn’t.

Not when there’s Lena and Kara carved at every corner of their apartment: moments sewn on their sheets where Lena’s scent still lingers, and memories inked on every door.

In their walls are Lena’s fingerprints, in their curtains are her favorite scent; in her sleep shirt is the breath she left behind.

[whumpshaped]

Chapter Two: Ambushed

prompt list and "event"

trigger warnings: failed rescue/escape, phobia whump (claustrophobia), nonhuman whumper, swords, manhandling, implied torture of captive humans, mention of death/murder, confined spaces

Draco made his way to the vent opening, slowly, taking care not to make a single sound. The metal tunnel was narrow, and he felt the remnants of his past claustrophobia bubbling up in his chest. He'd tried to get rid of that fear many times, squeezing and locking himself inside the tiniest of spaces in order to get used to it… Phobias were a luxury he couldn't allow himself in the midst of a civil war.

A screwdriver made quick work of the panel at the end, and Draco set it down as gently as possible before crawling out into the storage room. He swallowed hard when he saw all the instruments of torture used to keep humans in line, from cattle prods to whips and the biggest sledgehammers imaginable.

Everything was huge when it came to demons. Draco didn't consider himself small at the usually very imposing height of at least 6 foot 3, with the build of a skilled and experienced fighter, but an adult demon was at least 7 foot tall. At the very least. Not to mention the 9 foot skyscrapers Draco had met before during combat.

He shook his head, focusing on the mission ahead of him instead, running through the steps in his mind again and again like a mantra. 

Get inside. Grab the keys. Cut off electricity. Give the signal. Wait for the bombs to go off. Create chaos. Free the humans.

Simple.

He'd done it plenty of times before.

The keys were always easy to spot, huge metal things hanging at a height much too unnatural to have been placed by any human. Draco used his sword to get them off before sneaking out and along the corridor. 

The electrical cabinet was just as easy to find, if not… too easy. The facility was quiet, apart from the buzzing of the lights and other technology. 

Draco flinched back from the cabinet. Something was wrong. The place was way too empty, no guards, no screaming humans, no nothing.

They had been expected.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He spun around and ran back into the storage room, not at all concerned about the noise anymore. The girls, he needed to let the girls know.

He stepped up on the chair that he'd previously set in front of the wall for an easy access to the vent and jumped back in, plate and screwdriver be damned. He crawled faster than he'd ever crawled in his life. If the guards weren't inside, they had to be outside, and that meant they were with the girls.

"That's how you guys snuck in, eh?" 

What the fuck? No demon would ever be able to fit in the vents.

Draco crawled even faster, but it didn't matter, he was grabbed by his ankle in a couple seconds. "Let go of me!" he screamed desperately, suddenly feeling trapped. The vents were closing in on him, it was just like the first time, just like when he got stuck-

The stranger yanked on his ankle, pulling him backwards, and he suddenly remembered to struggle. He tried to kick, only getting his other leg trapped as well. The demon laughed, delighted and menacing.

"Come, come, let's play! I've come all the way out here just to catch you, give me a good fight!" 

He was pulled out of the vent and thrown onto the floor, his head hitting the concrete with a heavy thud. The unusually tiny demon had their sword drawn, pinning him in place with just the tip of it.

Draco was panting. This couldn't be real. He couldn't even check whether the twins were okay, what if they weren't, what if, what if, what if-

"Speak, human. Tell me why you're here."

Draco's eyes focused again, his breathing somewhat evening out. He had to keep a cool head for this to go any other way than certain death. "The demons have stolen away my family, I- I thought- I'm sorry, please, I don't even know what I thought, please, I just wanted to see them once more! Have mercy!"

The demon tilted their head to the side, expression unreadable. "I know you're the leader of the rebel group, boy. Don't lie to me."

Another shaky breath. Another drop of sweat rolling down his cheek. "I, I don't- I don't know what you're talking about, I'm s-sorry. I just… I'm just here to see my sisters-"

"Don't," the demon pushed the sword further into his skin, the unrelenting metal scraping uncomfortably against his throat, "lie to me." 

"It's the truth," Draco breathed. If there was any chance that the demons hadn't caught the twins, there was no way in hell he would break and give that information up.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" When they received no response, the demon continued. "I am the heiress to the throne, Lord Jayden Aithne Rienn."

Rienn.

The family responsible for the senseless killings. 

The family responsible for the murder of his own family.

He kept the emotions buried deep within as he answered. "I had n-no idea, Lord Rienn. I'm so sorry. I'm s-so sorry."

Jayden's eyes narrowed, and they pulled the sword back. "I suppose the Lazaahd brat would've reacted way differently. A stupid son of stupid parents. You might be telling the truth after all."

Draco didn't move an inch, waiting for them to provoke him further. They still weren't convinced, of course. There would've been no point in saying such tasteless things about the dead otherwise. Though, demons weren't known for their extremely strict etiquette either - the fucking animalistic bastards.

"Stand up, human, let's go meet your sisters."

Oh, right. His sisters.

Fuck.

~

send me an ask w a suggestion to influence how the story progresses!

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Sky and Time: The Story of The Family’s Most Unlikely Arrest

@tortilla-of-courage @ghostdragonace hey look I actually have a tag list now!

Also, most of the fics in the Adoption AU don’t have really long titles like this, but this is also not the longest I’ve titled these fics. There is one with a longer title sitting in my docs.

Regardless, here’s the one where Sky got arrested that was supposed to be fun until Sky and Time decided that feelings were getting involved. So now feelings are talked about, kinda. This is also the second of those intro fics that will probably never have more added. Enjoy!

-----------------

Time sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. He set the phone down and sat back in his chair, not eager for this in the slightest.

“Who was it, dear?” Malon called around the corner, still busy getting Wild to stay sitting so he didn’t injure his ankle further.

Time sighed again, opening his good eye to the ceiling and asking Hylia why he ever chose to take in so many kids.

“Captain Viscen,” he replied, more tired than he was before answering the phone. “I need to head down and pick up one of the boys,”

Malon tutted, giving up on Wild now that Four had shown up and sat on him. “Which one? Twilight hasn’t gotten caught racing again has he? Or do we need to pull out the first aid kit because Warriors got in a fight? It isn’t Legend, is it?”

Time shut his eye and laughed. “The fact you have each boy and their cause of arrest memorized worries me about our parenting ability,”

Malon scoffed at him and wacked his arm lightly. “Oh just let me know if I need to prepare for when you get back because one of our boys is bleeding,”

Time chuckled again, standing up to stretch. “No, no one’s hurt, but I don’t think a lecture is necessary either,”

“Oh?”

Time hummed, dropping a kiss to his wife’s head on his way past her. “Apparently I’m picking up Sky,”

“Sky?” The look Malon gave him was clear confusion.

Time shrugged, grabbing keys and heading out the front door. “I’ll ask when I pick him up, but I suppose we’ll just see then,”

Malon shook her head. “Just get back safe,”

“Of course,” Time smiled back at her, then shot a look at the boys on the couch. Wild gulped and Four snorted.

About twenty minutes later, Time was pulling his old pickup into the police station parking lot. It was a situation he found himself in a lot. With a sigh he stuffed the keys into a pocket and made his way inside. Better now than later.

When he walked in he was greeted with Sky’s loud friend, Goose?, loudly recounting the adventure that led to the arrest to his parents, who had also been called and were less thrilled than their son. Sky was sitting nearby, head down and shoulders hunched, trying to make himself as small as possible, and doing a fairly good job of it.

He was approached by the captain as he entered. “Link! Thank you for coming down,”

“Captain Viscen,” Time smiled and accepted the handshake. “Of course, I’m just curious as to why I’m here. Sky’s not exactly a troublemaker,”

“Oh he’s not,” Viscen agreed. “But his friend most certainly is. We caught him painting one of the walls of a bar in town, fled when we showed up. We wouldn’t have even bothered with your kid, he was clearly trying to talk his friend out of it, but he ran too,”

Time sighed, well aware of how Sky had a tendency to just accept other’s snap judgements over his own when panicked.

“Thank you, Viscen. I can just take him home then?”

“Yup, he’s all yours,” Viscen waved at the boy, who shrunk into himself further.

Time nodded and moved past the captain, stopping once he was standing in front of Sky. The boy shrunk down, his ears tinged red in what was likely shame. There were flecks of red paint on the shoulder of his shirt, which was far less than the splatters on his friend. He was white knuckled with his grip on his pants.

Time sighed heavily and Sky flinched. “Sky,”

There was a long pause as Sky pulled his head up to look at Time. “Hi dad,” his voice was small, and Time could easily see guilt in his expression.

Time sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Come on, let’s go home,” he reached out a hand to his guilt-ridden son.

Sky took it and stood, gluing himself to Time’s side as he tried to stay as small as possible. Time rolled his eye and wrapped his arm around Sky’s shoulders, leading him out.

“Excuse me, sir,” Time paused, turning around briefly to address the man flagging him down. Sky’s friend’s dad had broke away from his wife to approach them.

Time would admit he didn’t know the man or his wife very well, Sky was a newer addition to their apparently ever growing family and he and Malon hadn’t had time to meet all of his friends or their parents yet. This wasn’t an ideal time, but he wasn’t about to come off as unfriendly.

“Yes?” He raised a brow as the man approached. Sky shrunk further into his side.

“You’re Link’s father, correct?” The man glanced from Sky to Time. “The one who took him in after,” he trailed off.

“That’s correct,” Time nodded, not one to dwell on the reasons his boys had come to him either, especially the less fortunate members of their family.

The man cleared his throat then, shaking off whatever it was. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Zulos, Groose’s father. My wife, Esha, and I have been meaning to get in contact with you for a while now,”

“Oh?” Time accepted the man’s hand, grateful that he offered his left, though that might be because Time’s right was occupied holding Sky. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Malon and I have been looking at meeting up with some of the rest of his friends’ parents as well, we just haven’t had the time,”

“Keeping you busy, eh?” Zulos laughed.

Time chuckled himself, shaking his head. “Actually, he’s one of the calmer boys. It’s his brothers that we’re running all over town trying to keep track of,”

Zulos raised his eyebrows, looking Time over. “Brothers, eh? How many you got?”

“Six right now, but that’s likely to increase as well,” Time smiled patiently, rubbing Sky’s arm, which didn’t seem to help. “Sky’s our most recent addition,”

“Sky?” Zulos seemed confused by that.

“Oh, right,” Time laughed, waving him off. “My mistake, I forgot you might not know. My name is Link, as is, amusingly, all of our boys. I didn’t plan that, so you know,”

“Ah,” Zulos laughed. “I see! Well, we’d love to chat at some point better than here,” a glance back at his son who had only gotten louder as his mother tried to quiet him. “I don’t suppose I could get your number?”

“Of course,” Time pulled out his phone, rattling off the number as Zulos plugged it into his own phone, then added the number Zulos gave him to his own.

“We’ll be in touch,” Zulos waved, walking back to rescue his wife.

Time waved, then steered Sky out of the building and back to the truck.

Sky was silent as Time climbed in and pulled out of the lot, keeping his eyes on his hands in his lap. Time let the silence sit for the first half of the drive, willing to give Sky time to start talking on his own. When it seemed clear Sky was waiting for the same thing, Time sighed and took the initiative to break the silence. 

“Sky,” he paused, not sure how to go about this. Sky wasn’t in trouble, so he couldn’t approach it the way he did the other boys.

“I’m sorry,” Sky said, eyes down. Time glanced at him and saw the boy hunched up again, ears drooped and voice small. “I didn’t mean to get in trouble, I swear. Groose just heard that Legend and Ravio did murals sometimes and wanted to do one too. I tried to talk him out of it, but then the cops showed up and,” Sky paused in his mini rant, voice wobbling now.

Time cast his eyes over the boy, who so clearly felt awful about this and was beating himself up over it. Time sighed. “Sky, that’s not,” he paused again to collect his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Sky said again, now a shaky whisper. “I really wasn’t trying to get in trouble, and I didn’t mean to bother you to have to come get me, and I,” and that was the sound of tears.

Time sighed, pulling the truck over in order to deal with this without his attention drawn away from the boy in question. He knew Sky felt bad about getting caught, but tears weren’t something he thought would pop up. None of the other boys ever cried after getting caught and having Time collect them.

Sky was sniffling, and trying very hard to prevent himself from crying. Pulling over seemed to have made it worse, the boy curling in on himself a little and starting to shake.

“Sky,” Time tried for his gentlest voice, aware of how fragile Sky was right now. “Can you look at me, please?”

Sky shakily raised his head to look at Time. He was biting his lip, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I swear I’m not usually this much of an issue, I, we just,” Sky broke eye contact, looking away but not moving his head.

Time reached out and gently wiped away one of the tears that had broken free, fully aware of how Sky flinched away. “Sky, what is this about? It can’t be the arrest, so what’s got you so upset?”

Sky darted his eyes back to Time, anxiety or fear swimming around in the light blue. “I’m sorry, I just,” he paused to swallow, dropping his head down to his lap again. “You won’t send me back, will you?”

Time pondered that for a moment, then felt like he was hit with a sledgehammer. Sky was worried about getting sent back into the system again. There were a few heartbeats where Time felt furious at everyone who had ever said or done something like that to this wonderful boy to make him so scared of that. He quashed it down quickly, however. Anger, even righteous anger on Sky’s behalf, wouldn’t help here.

“Sky, we’re not sending you back,” Time put all the conviction he could into his voice, and his heart broke when Sky looked up at him again, eyes suddenly showing hope.

“You’re not?”

“No, of course not,” he reached out one hand to set on Sky shoulder. “We would never do that to you,”

“Even,” Sky’s voice wobbled again, and a hard set of blinks sent a pair of tears running down his face. “Even though I got arrested?”

Time had to remind himself that Sky hadn’t been around long enough to have seen his brothers get picked up. “Sky, this is not the first time I’ve had to pick up one of my boys from the police station. Twilight and Warriors both end up there every few months, and Legend only doesn't end up there more often because he’s gotten good at not getting caught. And besides, you’re not even in trouble,”

“I’m not?” Sky sniffed again, confused.

“No, of course not,” Time reached over with his free hand to wipe away a few more stray tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong except end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’re not going to get in trouble for trying to keep your friend out of trouble,”

Sky looked down again, grappling with this information.

“So, so you’re not mad at me? And, and you won’t send me back?”

Time’s heart broke again when Sky looked back up at him. No kid should ever have to look so broken or grateful to not get kicked out of the house. Especially not someone who was only 15.

“Of course not,” he leaned over the console to pull Sky into his arms. “You’re a part of the family Sky, and we’d never willingly give you up. We’d all fight tooth and nail to keep you around, you never have to worry about that with us. Nothing could make us so upset with you that we’d ever let you go. That I swear to you,”

It took a second, but he eventually felt Sky grab his shirt, and seconds later he could feel the shaking that came with crying. Time held Sky close, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from the uncomfortable angle and whispering a few soothing words and reassurances to his newest son. He made a note to call his lawyer when he got home to see about speeding up the adoption process for Sky. Getting that piece of paper might help set the boy’s nerves at ease somewhat.

Eventually, Sky calmed down from his bout, leaning back out of the hug to wipe at his eyes and croak out another apology. Time felt another lash of anger for this boy, who was so sweet and kind, and all of the awful things he must have lived through in the year since his parents died.

But anger wouldn’t help here, so he pushed it aside to deal with later, when he had Malon to rant to.

“Better?” Time asked, eye running over Sky’s face.

Sky nodded, eyes red and face flushed. “Sorry about that, I just,”

“Hey, no,” Time reached out to pull Sky’s face back to look at him. “You never have to apologize for being scared. Not to us,”

He held Sky’s gaze until he nodded, then leaned back.

“Can we go home now?” Sky asked, looking more tired than Time had ever seen him.

Time nodded, then glanced at the building he’d pulled over in front of. He jabbed his thumb at it. “Would you like some ice cream first? You can say no,”

Sky looked up, glancing between Time and the shop, then nodded. Time smiled, climbing out of the car with Sky following.

(---)

Time opened the door to let Sky in past him, then made a sharp motion at Malon warning her not to ask about what happened. Malon raised one eyebrow, but thankfully said nothing.

“Hey Sky!” Wild waved a hand to get his brother’s attention. “Can you hand me the remote? I don’t think I can take another hour of the documentary channel,”

“What’s wrong with the documentary channel?” Four squawked in offense.

“It’s boring,” Wild shot back.

“It is not boring!”

An argument broke out, and Time sighed heavily. He’d used up his emotional reserves already, and what was left was set aside for an angry rant at Malon later.

“I like the documentary channel,” Sky offered.

Wild squawked and Four cheered. Sky quickly looked like he regretted throwing his hat in the ring as he was pulled into the argument.

Malon wandered up to take his arm, smiling at him. “Everything went well?”

“I need to call our lawyer,” Time said. “The sooner we get that piece of paper saying he’s ours, the better,”

Malon gave him a curious look, but didn’t press. She’d hear it all later anyways. For now, Time was content to watch his sons bicker and argue like the kids they were.

That was a blessing well worth the pain that led them here.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #16: Songbird

Part 2

So @im-a-wonderling had a fantastic plot idea... and I added wings.

(Collaborating with her on this one was so fun! I don’t normally write angst so it was new for me and she was an incredible help/inspiration!)

TW: blood, implied violence, general angst

———————————

Villain leaned back against the stark white wall. In fact, aside from his own dark blue attire, everything in the hallway of cells was white: the floors, ceilings, doors, even the metal bars were painted white.

Supervillain had always preferred things nice and clean and white.

Not the best color choice for the dungeon of a brutal supervillain. Villain wondered how they cleaned away the bloodstains.

Supervillain’s minions had been courteous enough when they brought him in, not that he’d been able to put up much of a fight after a sniper shot him with a power suppressor mixed with a sedative. He’d been barely conscious when they dragged him into this cell and left him alone.

That had been hours ago, and he still couldn’t feel his powers. Not the most ideal scenario. Especially considering the reason he was here.

Supervillain’s missing device. Her masterpiece. Prize of her collection. Peak of her creative genius. First of its kind.

And only, Villain thought smugly. He and Hero had stolen the device last week. And Supervillain was notoriously paranoid about her technology being stolen and never wrote anything down. She might be able to recreate the device, but it would take a few years.

He didn’t know how Supervillain knew he’d been involved. She was sure to demand the return of her invention, which was, unfortunately, currently in a thousand pieces at the bottom of the ocean.

Villain had anticipated a double cross from Hero, had thought the Hero Agency would insist on saving and using a machine that could duplicate superpowers and create new heroes, but Hero had been just as determined as he was to see the machine destroyed.

Personally, he knew what would happen if Supervillain managed to duplicate his powers, knew the destruction she would leave in her wake.

He wasn’t exactly sure why Hero had been equally as passionate, but he hadn’t been able to resist grinning at her enthusiastic smashing. He could have destroyed the device with a flick of his fingers, but watching her take a sledgehammer to the metal had stirred something in his chest. Admiration turning towards something warmer.

The door at the far end of the hall banged open, and two guards burst into the room, dragging a limp form between them.

Villain’s heart skidded to a stop.

The figure in the middle was small and slim, with oversized wings that dragged on the ground as the guards carried her forward.

Villain would know those wings anywhere: a blue so light it was nearly white, with feathered tips that looked as though they’d been dipped in the midnight sky.

Hero.

Villain stiffened, hands curling into fists.

They drew closer, and his breath caught.

There was blood dripping from a wound on Hero’s temple; the fair skin of her face and arms was already beginning to bruise.

The guards hauled her past, and his nails bit into the flesh of his palms at the sight of her wings, one wing hanging at a horribly wrong angle as it dragged on the ground behind her, spatters of red dotting the light feathers.

Fury pounded in his chest as his eyes stayed fixed on her mangled wing. If his powers were working, the entire prison would have been obliterated.

Hero didn’t stir as the guards threw her into the cell next to his.

His heart stuttered as logic warred with panic.

They wouldn’t lock her up unless she was alive...

Right?

Villain gripped the edge of the hard metal cot, the sharp corners digging into his palms as the guards strode by.

He offered a sardonic raise of the eyebrow as they glanced his way. One of the henchmen paused.

“The boss will be by soon to release you. She was given new information that revealed the true thief of her device.” His eyes cut to Hero.

Villain hummed disapprovingly as he leaned back, though every muscle was tensed, ready to spring. “I told Supervillain I was innocent of her allegations.”

Henchman blanched at the threat of retribution in his tone. “Yes yes. Hero confessed to everything.”

Villain closed his eyes briefly. Even though he had been the one to approach her. His idea. His plan. His fault.

And now here was his beautiful songbird, bleeding on the cell floor.

Villain studied Hero, taking in every bruise and cut and drop of blood.

His face was an icy mask as he faced the guard. “Yes. I can see that.”

The guard had the audacity to smile. “Oh, no. She told us the moment we brought her in. Yelled about how it had been her and her alone who took the device.”

Had she done it to protect him?

The guard waved a hand carelessly at Hero’s crumpled form. “That’s what happened when she told the boss she’d destroyed it.”

He was laughing as he walked away.

The henchmen were beneath him. At least, that was what Villain told himself as they continued down the hall. It was the only thing that kept him from murdering the two lackeys through the bars of the cell.

He couldn’t afford to reveal his connection to Hero. Couldn’t reveal how much he cared. Not yet.

As soon as their backs were turned, he studied Hero. She was on the ground, injured wing partially beneath her. Her other wing had fallen across her body when they dumped her to the ground, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

He reached for his powers to rip the prison walls apart— to get to her—but that part of him was still numb.

His own breaths came in fast as his mind spiraled. He watched the blood dripping from the cut on her head, dark red spilling on the bright white floor.

Please be alive.

Please.

When the door clicked shut and they were finally alone, Villain dared speak.

“Hero.” He hissed. “Hero!”

She didn’t stir.

Villain thought that he could see the movement of breath, but that could just be the A/C ruffling her soft feathers.

He found himself holding his breath, waiting for hers.

The next moments were agony.

Lightheaded, he closed his eyes and took a large gulp of air.

When he opened them again, Hero was watching him, eyes wide, pupils dilated.

“Hero!”

She dropped her gaze, arms trembling as she struggled to push up out of the tangle of her wings, whimpering as the movement jarred her broken wing.

Villain ached to plug his ears, to block out each tiny heart-wrenching sound of pain, but he had no right.

Every mark on her was his fault.

Had they captured her after they brought him in? If he had confessed…

“Hero, they said you told them...” he trailed off as she deliberately twisted away and flared her wings to block him from view. A cry of pain accompanied this action, and her shoulders curled inward as they began to shake.

Villain slid to his knees, fingers uselessly clutching the bars between them.

“Hero! Are you ok? Please, talk to—”

He cut off abruptly as the far door burst open once more, and he forced his voice to go cold as he rose to his feet, praying Hero would understand.

“...nothing more than you deserve you filthy—”

“Ah Villain!”

The cheerful voice fanned the rage burning in his chest, and he didn’t try to hide it as he stepped towards the front of the cell.

“Supervillain.”

“Now, now, Villain.” She laughed as she straightened the cuffs of her fresh white lab coat, but she still had blood under her fingernails.

White hot fury ripped through him. It took every ounce of self control he possessed to school his features as she continued.

“I know you’re a little upset at my bringing you here.”

He growled.

“But as you can see, I’ve caught the true perpetrator, and I’ve come to offer my sincerest apologies.” She cocked her head and offered a smile filled with false cheer.

“And compensation for the inconvenience, I assume.”

She frowned briefly, then nodded. “Of course, of course. What is it you want?”

He offered her a sharp smile. “Let’s just say I’ll collect what you owe me later.” In blood.

Villain was the one powerless and behind bars, but Supervillain was the one who stepped back.

A guard approached at her signal, a pair of shackles in hand.

“Just a precaution,” Supervillain explained, “until you are off my base.”

Villain kept his protests to himself as he extended his hands through the bars and allowed them to be cuffed together.

He reminded himself that even with his hands unbound, there was no way he would be able to free Hero without his powers, trapped as they were at the center of Supervillain’s base, surrounded by hundreds of her people.

He filled his voice with bored curiosity. “What will you do with the thief?”

Supervillain smiled. “I had a canary once. Made a marvelous little pet.”

The memory of Hero soaring through the clouds, winds extended, glorious and free, flashed through his mind, and his stomach churned at the thought of her in a swinging cage, wings folded in, trapped and alone.

The cell door swung open, and Villain cast one last look at Hero, who now met his gaze with glassy-eyed terror. It was a look that would haunt him all the way back to his lair, where he would immediately send for Sidekick and make plans for a rescue against the most secure base in the country.

“Naughty thing kept trying to escape though.” Supervillain slammed the empty cell door shut for emphasis.

As Villain followed a guard down the hall, Supervillain’s bright voice echoed behind him, words that froze his heart and shattered his careful mask of composure:

“Had to clip its wings.”

——————————

*** full credit to @im-a-wonderling for the line, “And here was his beautiful songbird, bleeding on the cell floor.” The queen of beautiful tragedy, everyone.***

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes​ that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross​ that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Oooooohhh

For bad things happen bingo, could I request 'dragging themself along the ground' for an injured and sick male Supervillain, and him being found by a female hero who saves him despite being an enemy?

Yes I can!

Muddy Rain

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: intense descriptions of injuries, broken bones (ribs, legs, collarbone), implied concussion, fever, intense descriptions of vomit, left in a ditch, drugged with painkillers (morphine), headaches, delirium, loss of consciousness, mentions of death, mentions of starvation and dehydration, past torture, IVs, needles

~

Supervillain pulled himself forward once again, dragging his back legs with him, through the thick, black mud. He cried silently, tears mixing with the dirt and blood on his face.

He knew, without anything, not even a mere puddle that he was in bad shape. He could feel the lathering vomit and spit draining from his mouth and onto the front of his ripped up shirt. Mucus and blood from his nose seeped into that same mouth and irritated his cut up lips. He also had a sickening sensation of something sticky running down the side of his face. With his pounding headache, he confirmed that sometime during his torture- most likely one of the recent sessions- his head was smacked.

He wondered briefly if he blacked out at all. Was he ever given that luxury? He didn't know nor remembered.

The rest of his body felt like he was ran over by a semi. He vividly remembered both his legs being broken, that was one of the first pains he received. He also knew that a sledgehammer shattered mutiple ribs and his collarbone.

But the individuality of each injury didn't matter; no, it was the following pain that did.

Supervillain cried as he pulled himself along. He left arm was too weak from exertion, starvation, dehydration, and all that gunk, but his right arm had the broken clavicle.

He couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed on the ground, blackness swarming his vision as he lost consciousness.

He came to, or thought he did. The raging fever was making everything hazy and disoriented. He slowly and shakily brought himself to his arm, pulling himself a couple more feet before he keeled over again.

On the ground, he watched the headlights push through the pouring rain. Weakly, he raised a hand for help, but logic told that no one could see him.

Defeated, he laid his hand down. His head lolled in the mud. Vaguely, he realized he was in a ditch- right where his captors discarded him earlier, right when the rain had started.

He let a couple more tears slip from his eyes before once again trying to move. But the sudden movement sent a dizzying rush through his head and he nearly tumbled over again. But he dug his fingers into the cold ground and held fast, though the cars on the highway sent a nauseating feeling of vertigo through his being.

He didn't possess the strength to lurch forward and vomit, so he endured the painful stomach convulsions and allowed the puke to stream out of his mouth. He sucked in his stomach in an attempt to atleast keep it away from his shirt, but the effort was too momental and used too much precious energy. The majority of the vomit fell on his chest.

He sighed and tried to step foward. He prevailed, broken and bent legs painfully going over a rock. He cried out hoarsely, looking at the headlights once again. How he wanted just one of them to pull over and gather him in warm arms so he could sleep peacefully without a care in the world.

He shivered, feeling a chill run down his spine. He would get hyperthermia soon, pass out, then die. Atleast it would be painless.

His arms supporting him gave out and he crumbled to the ground. How many times has he fallen over? How many times has his body pleaded with his will to give up? Countless.

"Help," he murmured weakly, though it was in vain. If the cars couldn't see him, then how could someone hear him in the pounding rain.

But, a delirious mindset made him to it- a faux hope that someone, anyone, would save him before he died. Blackness coated his already dimmed and blurred vision, threatening to take hold again. Smiling, barely lifting his lips, he closed his eyes, only for them to shoot open with a loud, blasting noise.

He slowly, blinked his eyes open, dizzy with a headache, and looked at the scene above him. A car, a car, was pullled over, headlights shining directly on his soaked body. He lifted his head, but it swayed mid-air, so he dropped it into the mud again.

A humanoid shape sauntered over to him, holding a light. It pierced his eyes, sending an aching throb to his head, but he kept them open, desperate to see his savior.

"Sir? Are you okay?" The person was a girl, nervous voice elevated in pitch. Supervillain didn't reply. Unconsciousness was already trying to pull him under again.

"Do I need to call an ambulance? Oh gosh, you have a bone popping out of your leg. Yes, ambulance. Where's my phone..."

"No!" Supervillain exclaimed, lurching forward, hand extented weakly. "Please, don't," he begged, voice quivering.

"Oh my gosh. Supervillain?" The person asked, she crouched down to get a better look at his face. Supervillain let his head flop downwards, hoping it counted as a nod.

His eyes fluttered shut, blackness encassing him. The last thing he heard before he fully lost consciousness was, "Supervillain, hey bud. Stay with me. Oh my gosh stay with me, please."

Supervillain woke up screaming in pain. Everything hurt from his head to his legs and everything in between. He thrashed his head around, completely unaware of the new surroundings.

"Stop!" He cried, shrieking. To him, his world was a mass fury of agony and memories of torture. He rolled to his side during this outburst, wailing even louder when he jostled his collarbone.

"Help!" He screamed, pounding his fists into the ground. No this was soft- mattress.

He was being tortured in bed, he realized trying to pull away from his fantasy.

"Hey, hey."

Words.

Supervillain screamed again as he tried to shrink away from them. His captors always spoke to him.

Hands grabbed at his biceps, thrusting him flush against the bed. He whimpered, ducking his chin into his chest to dodge the inevitable backhanded slap.

"You need to stay still, buddy, okay? The morphine isn't working," the words spoke again. Supervillain sniffled, feeling an uncomfortable rattle in his chest. He wheezed, throat suddenly itchy.

One hand trailed down to his elbow. Suddenly, he was very aware of the small discomfort in it. A needle and bandages.

Soon, he heard a click and a cool sensation flooded his veins. He groaned, blinking open his eyes, and looked down at his elbow. Through his blurry vision, he could just make out a white wrap around his elbow and a line leading to a bag hanging from a metal stand.

He stiffened as another wave of pain hit.

"I know," the voice said. "Painkillers aren't working."

But they are, Supervillain thought as his eyelids drooped. They didn't take away his pain, but gave him this almost overwhelming sense of euphoria as he slowly drifted off.

"Yeah, bud, you rest," the voice said. A hand ruffled through his hair, then everything faded into nothingness.

But, before he truly passed out, a single thought infiltrated his drugged mind,

The voice sounded like Hero's.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Final Hours pt. 2: The Illusion

synopsis: Living life at the House of the Children of the Star is supposed to be safe and comforting. So why can’t you shake this feeling that you’re not even close to being safe? 

word count: 1808

tw: rough sex, breeding, curse words, nsfw

a/n: I absolutely lied. I’m not done writing for Geto. I’ve got about ten years of silence and material I can work off of. Well, that implies... that I don’t hop on the Naoya train. 

You turn your head at the sound of water splashing in the bathtub, listening to a babbling Renji and Suguru playing around in the bubble-water. It was undoubtedly adorable seeing the soft side Renji pulled out of the curse user these days, especially now that he was wanted and - in an effort to protect what he had built - ruthless. 

But even his lack of tenderness with those outside of his small circle (you, Renji, Mimiko, and Nanako) had a purpose. This purpose would be re-explained to you every so often, whispered to Renji when he was asleep, and seared into the brains of those who followed him. You saw the countless evenings he spent thinking, in meetings, consuming curses… You originally thought it would wear him down faster than Jujutsu Tech had, but he only seemed to grow more powerful with every passing day. 

“All done,” Suguru announces, producing a towel-wrapped Renji with a wide smile. “Now we can get you settled in for bed.” Fatherhood is good for him, you think before smiling back and holding your arms out for the giggling child. Mimiko and Nanako could be heard playing around in the hallways, no doubt testing each other’s patience with a game of tag. But you don’t mind. Nothing really bothers you anymore. At least, that’s the way you wished it were. 

When you place Renji down in the crib littered with beautiful blankets and stuffed animals, the nagging feeling returns. This is all an illusion, something whispers to you, but you push the feeling away. You've gotten better at doing that lately: ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut at dinner or the tiny twinge of fear you felt at night when everyone was asleep. After you tuck Renji in, you turn to Suguru, who waited patiently for you to join him in your shared bedroom. 

When he swipes a hand over your shoulder and presses his thumbs into your upper back, you relax into his touch, allowing him to strip you of the tension in your body. “It’s perfect…” he whispers behind you, and you desperately want to agree; you really do. But you keep your mouth shut, knowing that any argument would be lost the moment he set his lips to your skin or smoothed his hands over your hips. “I love it here.” 

“I know,” you answer softly, and his hands still on your back. 

“Do you… like it?” The hurt in his voice is evident. 

“I love it,” you lie easily, trying to convince yourself that you do love it here; the children are safe, you’re safe, and no one would dare cross Suguru to get to either you or the children. 

Except Satoru and Shoko. The remembrance of the two sorcerers puts you on edge again, and a shudder passes through you. You don’t even step foot out of the House for fear of them finding you and taking a sledgehammer to what Suguru carefully crafted as a safe haven. 

“And I love you,” Suguru whispers, bringing you back to the present. “Mother of my children, tune to my song, blood in my veins…” 

“You’re only waxing poetic because you want something from me.” The observation earns a low chuckle from him, and he smooths his fingers over your hips, making them jerk forward a little. “Just say it.” 

“I want another child with you,” he murmurs, fingers splayed across your belly. “I want to have a family full of sorcerer--” 

“Will this family get rid of all the non-sorcerers in the world?” The thought that any child of yours would have the capacity - of be forced - to murder makes you sick to your stomach. “Is that why you want so many children?” You’re not sure what caused you to snap, but it’s obviously caught Suguru off guard. 

“Watch your mouth.” The command is emphasized by one of his hands grabbing your chin from behind. “Do you think I won’t have completed my goal before we grow our family? I have enough power to do this without their help. Our children won’t have to lift a single finger,” he hisses into your ear, taking care to lower his voice so as to not disturb Renji. 

“You really see me as some sort of breeding cow, don’t you?” Suguru lets go of your chin and shuts the door to your room, and you prepare for an argument. But instead of turning to you and pointing a finger before beginning to raise his voice, he grabs your chin again, and walks you back against the wall. You stare him down, not one to back down from a fight. But he doesn’t say a word when he presses his lips against yours, roughly pushing a hand under your shirt and grabbing a breast. 

“You think I see you as a cow, hmm?” You exhale shakily, daring to jut your chin out a little in defiance. You knew this game: he would soften you up with a show of dominance, tease out your submissive side, and you’d crumble into his arms and give him just what he wanted. But tonight, you won’t go down without a fight. 

Yes, of course you want to give in. You want him to touch you and drive you senseless, but not at the cost of bodily autonomy. 

“Yeah,” you answer confidently, feeling his fingers slip down your stomach. 

“You’d be sorely mistaken, then.” His lips press against your cheek and heat pools between your legs. Fuck. You curse yourself mentally, angry your body was reacting exactly how you knew it would. “I worship you, kitten. Shit, your body is a mere fraction of what I see when I look at you.” The admission makes you look into his eyes, but you see no trickery there. His grip on your chin slackens, and that same hand falls to your waist as he trails his lips down your neck, pausing to suck on the tender flesh. “You’re more than just a mother, y/n… You know that,” he murmurs against your shoulder, and you shiver under his touch.

Suguru hoists you up easily and takes you to the bed, pinning you underneath him as he presses his lips against yours once more. “Do I have permission to make love to you?” The request is whispered against one of your wrists, and you shiver again as his lips press against that spot, too. Your throat dries up and you swallow hard, trying to form the words you want to say, and when his black eyes flick down to yours, his gaze is hard and unwavering like a stone. “Or should I fuck you like the cow you assume I see you as?” 

“Fuck me,” you blurt, and Suguru’s hands instantly duck beneath the hem of your long skirt, pushing it up around your waist. Without warning, he tears at your underwear - another pair gone - and pushes your knees back forcefully. 

It isn’t long before you see his pants drop over the side of the bed and feel his fingers probe angrily at your entrance. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks breathily, extending one of your legs back sharply. The question is rhetorical; he’s obviously going to fuck you regardless. You nod anyways, and he presses into you. The pain is sharp and undeniable, but as you open your mouth to cry out, Suguru pushes a hand against it. “Shut the fuck up.” You feel the urge to struggle as he moves inside of you as you’re not wet enough. But he stops mid-stroke and lubricates himself with a trail of spit before working himself back into you. “That’s a good girl… lay there and take it.” 

You whimper around his hand, but he doesn’t relent while he pushes into you with force. Suguru seems to be enjoying the view, but you aren’t allowed to lay on your back for much longer. When his cock slips free and his hand comes off of your mouth, there’s a moment where the air rushes into you, but that’s quickly overshadowed by Suguru moving you sideways across the bed, your head dangling off the edge precariously. 

“Open,” he commands, and you obediently open your mouth for him to insert his rock hard cock. You can’t take much upside-down, but Suguru definitely tries to shove his entire length down your throat. When you reach your limit, you slap a hand against his thigh, trying to push him off, but he grunts and removes your fingers easily. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” He places his large hands on your tits as an anchor before moving back and forth and fucking your face. 

You don’t know how to cope. While he invades your mouth, the sorcerer above you takes your ankle and stretches your other leg back, placing your big toe in his mouth. His tongue wraps around the digit with ease before he moves to the other toes, sucking on them without a care in the world. You want to yell, scream at him that it’s all too much, but you can’t. Not with his cock stuffed in your mouth. And when his other hand comes off of your breast to play with your cunt, you’re done for. 

You practically lose yourself as all of the sensations come to a head, damn near evaporating into the air. When it’s over, though, his mouth lifts off of your foot, his cock slides out of your mouth, and his fingers leave you. You pant eagerly, wanting more, but he moves to the other side of the bed, pressing a knee against the mattress and pulling you to the other side. 

When he enters you again, you claw at his back, still sensitive from your orgasm. “Su, my god!” 

“Hush,” he claps a hand over your mouth again, raising a brow at your exclamation while he ruts into you. “I won’t have you waking Renji. If you wake him…” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. You know whatever it is won’t be good. 

Suguru continues to pump into you at an increasing speed, his face scrunching up like he’s about to cum. “Su, please…” you whine against his palm and that’s all it takes for him. 

“Fuck!” The exclamation is followed by a warm feeling in your pussy that flows out as he continues to move inside of you, not stopping for a second to catch his breath. Somehow, he still has the stamina to continue moving as he pushes cum out of you. Then he picks up his speed again, moaning louder than before and removing his hand from your mouth. You whimper, and he looks down at you instantly. “We’re not even close to finished, y/n. You want me to fuck you like a cow? That’s exactly what I’m about to fucking do.”