#so like. why wasn’t i there is the real question

[ventismacchiato]

18 stuck with you — cherry blossoms !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

MORNING AFTER

You wake up, and the remnants of last night’s drinking are still rattling around in your skull. The harsh light streaming through the windows feels like a personal attack, and the dull throb in your temples only adds to the misery. You almost don’t remember everything from the night before. Almost.

The kiss. The sight of Mona kissing Scara. Heizou’s arm around your shoulder. Scara’s eyes, watching. The way you rushed to defend yourself.

You try to roll over, but everything feels off. There's this weight in your chest, a weird, almost sticky feeling in your gut that you can’t shake. The weirdness is because of him.

After dragging yourself into the living room, hoping for a bit of quiet before leaving for breakfast, your eyes find the culprit of your headache. Scara. He’s standing by the door, looking entirely too unaffected by the chaos of last night. The cool indifference he always wears is almost infuriating. You were hoping he’d be feeling just as lost as you. 

You’ve always known Scara was beautiful. It's one of the reasons you hated him. It’s why the jealousy burned so fiercely inside you for all those years. His sharp eyes and how they managed to cut through everything, the way his features seemed too perfect to be real, it always made your stomach twist. It made you question why he had to exist in your orbit at all. 

But now…now, as you watch him, you feel that old jealousy resurfacing. But this time, it doesn’t feel the same. It feels different. 

Maybe it was never jealousy at all. The thought makes your heart skip, and before you know it, you’re staring at him.

Your gaze lingers for too long because all of a sudden he looks back at you. His usual detached expression softens for a split second, and you swear a flicker of something crosses his face. A jolt runs through your spine. Heat floods your face. You can’t help it. It’s like you’ve forgotten how to speak.

Remember. Be flirty. Show him you don’t hate him.

"Good... good morning," you stammer.

He gives you a strange look. “Morning?” he says, before walking past you.

Thankfully, the others arrive, and the group starts moving toward breakfast, leaving you in the dust. Your eyes flicker back to Scara briefly, but you immediately look away again, hoping your face isn’t burning as much as it feels. Lumine, who must’ve noticed your awkwardness, grabs your arm and pulls you back. 

"Okay, that could’ve gone better," Lumine starts, voice light but teasing, "I thought you liked him? Why were you glaring at him like that?"

You freeze, mortified. “Not so loud!” you hiss, wincing at the noise in your head. “I wasn’t glaring. I was just… staring. I tried being nice.”

Lumine raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Right. Just staring like you wanted to murder him. I thought you were going to flirt?”

You groan internally, the embarrassment already creeping up.

“That was my attempt,” you say weakly.

Venti, trailing behind, chimes in unhelpfully. “You’re hopeless, Yn. How did Xiao’s awkward ass get a man before you did?”

Xiao, walking beside you, frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

Venti flashes a mischievous grin. “I mean, come on. He can barely string a sentence together, and yet, here we are... take some notes, Yn.”

Xiao crosses his arms, scowling, but you roll your eyes, tuning out the back-and-forth. There’s something heavier on your mind.

"I know I’m awkward," you mutter, glancing down at your shoes. "But I don’t think there’s any point in flirting with him. He doesn’t like me, and honestly, I’m just hoping this feeling… goes away."

Lumine gives you a sympathetic look. 

“Even if that were true, there’s no harm in trying,” she points out, her voice gentle but firm. She doesn’t press further, though. Instead, the group continues toward the kitchen, the chatter from the other group filling the silence.

As you enter the kitchen, you scan the room. Mona’s already there, looking completely at ease, her eyes bright and unbothered. It’s a little strange, considering she was absolutely hammered out of her mind last night. You glance at Heizou too and he greets you with a smile, but there's a tiredness in his eyes that makes you pause for a moment. His usual carefree demeanor seems worn.

Because of you.

Before you can speak, a voice pipes up from underneath the table. It’s Yae’s voice, muffled but chipper, and she sounds far too cheerful for the morning after what was a particularly chaotic night. 

Childe, who was sitting from where she popped up shrieks and practically jumps from his chair. “Don’t do that!”

Yae ignores him, her voice still carrying across the room. "Guess what I just heard? Apparently, last night, Scara and Mona kissed!"

You freeze. Your stomach does a strange flip. Your eyes instinctively snap to Mona, who is sitting across from you. Her face pales as she blinks at Yae in confusion. “We what?!” she exclaims, her tone high with disbelief.

Meanwhile, Scara, who’d been silently sipping coffee, seems to shrink into his seat, his usual stoic mask barely holding up under the weight of the accusation. He looks like he wants to disappear into the floor.

“There was no ‘we,’” Scara mutters, his voice sharp with irritation. “She kissed me. I’m not an asshole to take advantage of a drunk girl.”

Mona slaps a hand to her forehead, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face flushed crimson.

You thought you were done with this, but hearing it said aloud still manages to send a strange ripple through your chest. You knew the kiss hadn’t meant anything, especially with Scara’s angry words from last night. It stings, even though you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

Your eyes move back to Scara. His usual guarded expression is there, but you can see the frustration beneath it. He’s trying to act unaffected, but it’s clear that he’s anything but. You wonder if that’s how you’ve always made him feel. Unreachable.

But Mona’s outburst fades, and the silence that follows feels heavier than it should. You catch Scara’s eye again, and this time, you don’t look away. Neither does he. For a moment, he raises a brow at you, and you swear his lips curve ever so slightly.

“Well, that drama was short-lived,” Yae says, breaking the tension. “Can we milk it any further, or are we done here? What about you, Heizou?”

Heizou, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, speaks up. “We actually discussed how Yn holds no feelings for me.”

Yae sighs dramatically. “Why did we bring you three here, then?”

Diluc, who’s been quietly watching, finally speaks up. “I’m having a swell time.”

“Fuck, finally,” Yae huffs, rolling her eyes. “Alright, whatever. We’ve got another activity, and I’m sure it’ll land you all a place in Paradise.”

“Is this one rigged?” Aether pipes up.

“A little,” Yae grins. “I’ll reveal it at the end. Anyway, we’re doing a Scavenger Hunt! Pairs, but since we’ve got an odd number... Heizou, you’re going solo.”

You wince at that, already guilty for rejecting Heizou’s advances all this time.

“You each get an item to collect. Shells, flowers, rocks, etcetera. Nothing too athletic. Go out and explore, and bring back as much as you can,” Yae continues, casually ignoring the obvious tension.

“But you assigned us flowers,” Scara interrupts, “All the flowers are in the woods.”

“Yes, and?” Yae smiles, unbothered.

“And the woods are up in that mountain,” Scara points out, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You want us to climb that?”

Yae simply smiles.

“I don’t like you,” Scara grumbles.

“I love you, too,” Yae laughs. “Moving on, we’ll meet back before lunchtime! Get going!”

୨୧✧

You get paired with Scaramouche, obviously, but unlike the other times you don’t find yourself too mad about it. You both knew no matter how good or bad you did at the game they’d rig it around you both, so you take your time making your way up the trail. Or what you both assumed to be a trail.

You both stood at the foot of the raging path ahead of you, mentally preparing yourselves to walk up it. Scara digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a handful of gummies.

“I didn’t take you for a sweet tooth,” you murmur.

He scoffs, grabbing your hand with his free one and letting a few fall onto your skin. You try, and fail, to ignore the warmth of his skin upon yours.

“It’s not candy,” he says, walking ahead of you. You stare at the not candy in your palms and then at his retreating back before throwing them back. Anything to help the swirling pit in your stomach.

You don’t talk much. The silence stretches between you, both of you awkward in your own way. You’re searching for something interesting to say, but the words won’t come.

It’s not until you reach a fallen tree that Scara climbs over and reaches a hand out to you.

“Careful,” he says simply.

You take his hand, letting him pull you over, but as you do, your foot catches on a branch. You find yourself pressed against his chest, and for a moment, neither of you moves. He doesn’t pull away until you shift, pulling yourself off him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, already embarrassed, but then his fingers brush against your cheek.

“You’ve got dirt on you,” he says, his tone surprisingly soft. “Walk slowly.”

Your cheeks burn as you watch him walk ahead, hoping the shade of the trees is doing a better job than your body at hiding the blush creeping up your neck.

Eventually, you both come across a small meadow filled with flowers. You kneel down, picking a few, letting the petals twirl in your fingers. You hear a rustling beside you, and when you look up, Scara is crouched next to you, holding a flower in his hand. 

“Here,” he hums, and before you can say anything, he tucks it behind your ear. A gust of wind carries the petals, some of them landing in his hair, and for a moment, the sight takes your breath away.

“I didn’t think sunflowers grew here,” he mutters, pulling the petals from his hair.

“Leave it,” you say, almost breathless. “It’s pretty.”

He stares at you for a long second, his eyes unreadable and a fistful of petals in his hands. He ‘s silent before he lets the petals fall into your hair. “Have them,” he says, his voice low. “They’re like you, anyway.”

You blink, unsure what to say.

“How?” you manage to ask, voice shaking slightly.

Scara eyes you for a beat before answering.

“You follow the sun,” he says, standing up and brushing off his pants. “And people can’t seem to get enough of you.”

He doesn’t look back as he speaks, his gaze fixed ahead. After a beat, he adds, almost offhandedly, “Sunflowers aren’t too bad to look at, either.”

You’re left standing there, watching him walk away, his words hanging in the air like a soft, lingering echo.

Maybe you weren’t a sunflower. Maybe you were a cherry blossom instead. Cherry blossoms fall at five centimeters per second, and you’ve been

falling

…falling

……falling

since the day you met him. Even if there wasn’t any gravity on Earth, you’d probably fall for him eleven times out of ten.

୨୧✧

You both reach the peak, breathless. Neither of you were exactly built for this. “Rock,” you manage to say, sinking onto it before Scara can even respond. The sweat trickling down your neck probably isn’t doing your attempt at flirting any favors.

He sits down beside you, letting the flowers you picked tumble to the ground. The sun filters through the trees, but you still get a decent view of the ocean. You glance to your left. Scara’s staring at it, the wind ruffling his hair.

Your head spins, but you can’t tell if it’s from the lack of oxygen or because of him. “Sorry about your mom,” you say, trying to break the silence. It’s also a way to make up for not checking in on him last night. You never did see if he was okay. You probably should’ve. He chuckles softly, the sound surprising in its warmth.

“Not your fault.” You fall quiet after that, the words you want to say stuck somewhere in your throat. “Just spit it out,” he says, leaning back on the rock, eyes still on the horizon. He always knows when you’re holding back. “If your mom hadn’t paid Mona off, would you have kept dating her?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it. You expect him to scoff or brush you off, like he usually would. But his answer comes quickly

“It wouldn’t have lasted anyway,” he says, voice low. He picks a flower from your discarded bouquet and twirls it between his fingers. “We weren’t suited for each other. She hated how much I focused on work, and said I was too much. I just wish she’d broken up with me herself, though.” You nod, his words strangely comforting. “Besides,” he adds casually, “All we ever did was have hate sex.” You choke on a surprised laugh, coughing at the suddenness of it. And then…he laughs. Actually fucking laughs. The sound is so rare, you find yourself wanting to drown in it. “Prude,” he teases, watching you with a sly grin. You compose yourself, shooting him a glare. “Not a prude.” “I beg to differ.” You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. Another question bubbles up, one you can’t resist asking. “Was she your first?” He’s silent for a beat, then answers with a firm, “Nope.” “Was she your only?” He glances at you, brows raised. “Why do you care?” Because you like him. Maybe it’s something a little more than that. Something you haven’t dared to admit to yourself yet. The answer is right there on your tongue, but you swallow it down.

 “Just being nosey,” you say, trying to brush it off. “Didn’t think you could pull anyone else.”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “She wasn’t. But after her, I stopped having casual sex.”

You scoff. “But I heard you’ve hooked up with half the industry?”

“What tabloid did you read that in?” he smirks. “You know there’s shit other than sex, right? Or do I need to give you sex ed?”

His words hang in the air, the implication making your cheeks flush with heat. You must’ve looked taken aback, because he doesn’t hesitate to press on.

“Half of them were just blowjobs backstage.”

You choke from his words again.

“God, you are a prude.”

“Shut up,” you muster out before continuing, “Don’t you miss it? I thought you liked…sex?” 

His smirk is there before you even have a chance to respond. “Well, yeah. Who doesn’t?”

You stop, unsure why you even care enough to ask. Well, you were pretty sure. You’d thought he’d just shut you out.

“What, spit it out,” He presses, and you almost want to avoid his gaze, but you can’t.

“Wouldn’t someone like you get...?” you murmur, barely above a whisper, feeling the heat rising in your neck.

He stared at you. Then he shifts, almost as if to tease.

“Do I need to explain to you what self pleasure is? Ever heard of mastur–.”

“Shut up!” You cut him off, shoving his shoulder, your heart pounding in your ears. But he just smiles, grins, really. And you can’t help but notice how that smile hits you harder than it should. 

How had you gone so long without seeing it?

By the time you and Scaramouche make it back down, your heads are clearer, and the afternoon sun is already at its peak. Lunchtime. Scanning the scene, you both realize you’ve managed to collect more of the required items than anyone else.

“We got distracted,” Venti mutters, holding up the single, sad shell he and Aether managed to gather.

“It’s no matter,” Yae waves him off with a dismissive flick of her hand. “This whole thing was rigged anyway.”

Lumine, ever observant, scans the group. “Aren’t we missing a few people?”

“Oh right, I completely forgot,” Yae laughs lightly, tapping her chin. “Heizou and Mona took off while you were all busy with the game.”

You’re a little taken aback by the news. You’d been hoping to talk to Heizou again before he left, but now... you’re not so sure. Maybe it’s better left unsaid. You’ve probably hurt him enough as it is.

Scaramouche’s reaction to his ex leaving couldn’t be more different.

“Thank the Archons,” he mutters, clasping his hands together in exaggerated relief, causing Kazuha to shoot him a bemused side-eye.

“Anyway,” Yae interrupts, snapping the group’s attention back to her, “Back to the show. Let’s see the results.” She glances around at the gathered group, raising an eyebrow. “Good grief, did any of you actually try? The one couple we rigged was the one that won.”

Xiao speaks up dryly. “You told us to collect rocks.”

“Yeah, and those,” Yae hums, tapping her chin and gesturing toward the small pebbles in Kazuha’s palms, “Are definitely not rocks. Never mind that, though.” She raises her voice slightly, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “The pair who collected the least will be spending the night on this island, while the rest of you get to go to Paradise.”

She feigns a gasp, dramatically sweeping her gaze across the group. “Congratulations to everyone except Scaramouche and Yn! You two will be spending the night here on this hell island, while the rest of us head to Paradise... including the crew!”

The others around you celebrate, but your thoughts are elsewhere.

Tonight, everyone will be gone.

And it will just be you and him.

Alone.

[00:00:00] GOODBYE INTERVIEW ONE 

YAE: So, how does it feel to go home empty handed?

HEIZOU: Honestly, I got the closure I needed.

YAE: But not the lover you wanted?

JEAN: YAE!

YAE: Sorry, sorry!

HEIZOU: [LAUGHS] It’s alright. I get it. But yeah. 

YAE: Anything you would’ve done differently?

HEIZOU: [QUIET FOR A FEW MOMENTS] Probably have gotten to know Yn a bit more. I would’ve saved a lot of money on snacks they didn’t actually like.

YAE: What a gentleman! Great send off. We’ll miss you, Heizou!

HEIZOU: [SMILES] I’m sure you will, bye.

YAE: And cut!

[00:32:10] GOODBYE INTERVIEW TWO 

YAE: So…how are we feeling girl?

MONA: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS LET ME GET SHITFACED ON TV!

YAE: [LAUGHS] It made for great television, how are you feeling?

MONA: So embarrassed. But I’m glad I came and put on a show. Any publicity is good publicity.

YAE: And what about the ex you left on that island? Any regrets about him?

MONA: Oh believe me, a lot. But, I shall just carry on with my life! I’ve embarrassed myself enough on this hell island.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Fair enough. Any jealous feelings towards anyone else on the island?

MONA: [ROLLS EYES] You know what you’re doing. I’ve lost enough fans from trying to kiss Scara. I’ll say no comment.

YAE: Well, I tried folks. Goodbye, Mona!

MONA: Mwah!

YAE: CUT!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

me googling where sunflowers and cherry blossoms grow and then realizing it isn’t that deep so just pretend for me okay thanks

scara taking an edible to try and flirt he’s so real

peep the lyrics in scaras story like YN OPEN UR EYES but yeah at this point yn is coming to realize scara might like them back 🤭

kinda insecure about this chapter so pls lmk if u liked 😣 pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — i’ve gotten like 8 hours of sleep in total last week i’m lowk goin thru it guys i hate college 😭 pls send me asks about swy or anything i need motivation i’m bashing my head into da wall as we speak

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[thesquidgame]

The Moments After

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: In-ho deals with your sudden collapse while you receive treatment.

Warnings: angst, medical emergency, hospital, stitches, blood, viral infection, understaffed hospitals, trauma, violence

Word Count: 2.5k~

In-ho didn’t know how slowly time could pass before today. Sitting in the sterile white hallway of the hospital, bouncing his knee, staring down at his blood-soaked hands, every minute felt like hours. He always thought that was an exaggeration, but here, in this moment, he knew it to be true. Every now and then he would look up when he thought that at least half an hour had passed, only to find that it had been less than a minute.

After he had run you into the ER, chaos erupted. An entire medical staff instantly swarmed you, asking countless questions, all that he was almost too frazzled to answer. He told them only what he knew; that you had been acting strange lately, what strange behaviors you had, and that he woke up earlier that night to find you throwing up blood. And that you hadn’t stopped since you had started.

After that he could only focus on you, screaming your name over and over again as you blinked your eyes slowly, in a daze of blood loss and whatever had happened to you to make you throw up so much.

And then, the hand he didn’t even realize was gripping yours slipped away from his. A nurse held him back as they wheeled you into a deeper part of the hospital that he couldn’t enter. It was suddenly very quiet. Unlike the insanity that had just happened around him, there was complete and total stillness around him. He was far enough into the hospital that the noises of the ER were inaudible. In-ho never knew how quiet a hospital could be, but between the silence, the white walls, and the glacial pace of time, it felt like he was being tortured.

It had been an hour since he had arrived in the hospital, he only knew because of how often he glanced at the clock before any staff talked to him. 

“Sir? Are your feet alright?” 5 AM, the time he knew the doctors changed shifts in your hospital. The man speaking was young and looked terrified by seeing a 40-year-old man covered in blood sitting in an empty hallway. “Are- are you okay?”

In-ho glanced down to see that tracks of blood were running from his feet. He just noticed the pain. He still didn’t care. “No, I need to know what’s happening to my wife?” He demanded as he stood up.

Shame washed over him. Why hadn’t he asked before? He knew the answer, he didn’t want to talk to anybody, that would make this real.

“Sir, I- I think you need to get some stitches first, your feet look-” 

In-ho made the difference between him and the young doctor. He picked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. In-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but right now he had no idea what he was capable of. 

“What happened to my wife.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“I- I think I need to treat your feet fi-” In-ho pushed him further into the wall.

The doctor gulped, “What- what’s her name?”

In-ho let go. “(Y/n) Hwang.”

“Nurse Hwang is your wife?” The doctor looked away.

“Yes.” In-ho had done countless trainings and interrogated countless criminals. He knew when someone was afraid of something. “Why are you looking away from me.”

The doctor started walking away, stammering, “If you come with me, I can help you find out what ha-”

“Don’t walk away from me. What aren’t you telling me.” The doctor stopped in his tracks.

When he turned around, In-ho saw tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. We- we didn’t know.”

In-ho stalked towards him, leaving almost no space between him and the younger man. “Didn’t know what.”

“We noticed she was acting strange. We thought- we thought it must just be stress.” He gulped, “and if it wasn’t,” he got quiet, “we didn’t know how to deal with it. We were all so stressed out all the time. We- we didn’t have any time or resources to step in or talk to her about it.”

They knew something was wrong with his wife, but they hadn’t done anything about it. In-ho wanted to grab the doctor and slam him against the wall. But he couldn’t. Hadn’t he done the same exact thing? Hadn’t he been too stressed to prod further about what was happening? In-ho thought that because you were a nurse, you would do something if you thought something was wrong, or talk to him about it. He was just as bad as them. No, he was worse. He was your husband. He was supposed to take care of you, that was what he had sworn to do on the best day of his life, your wedding day.

In-ho wanted to break down. He wanted to collapse and roll into a ball on the ground and cry. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know anything about your condition, he had to figure out what was happening, he had to do something.

In-ho croaked, “What happened to her?”

The doctor silently walked away, sensing what had just happened, and In-ho followed behind. “I’m going to see if anyone can come tell us what happened.” He pressed dials on a phone and called someone. “A doctor will be here soon. The surgery is almost over.”

Surgery? In-ho knew there was a reason that all of the doctors and nurses had rushed away and not come back, but hearing it was different than just simply knowing it.

“Can I look at the cuts on your feet?”

In-ho didn’t respond, just sat down in a chair and put his head in his hands. 

It was another long wait before anyone came out to talk to In-ho, and eventually, a woman and a man came out wearing scrubs, “Mr. Hwang?”

In-ho stood up immediately, staring at the doctor who looked to be the same age as him. In-ho didn’t have to ask the question, the doctor already knew what he was waiting to hear. The other doctor sighed, “She’s alive.”

In-ho let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “My name is Dr. Park, would you like to take a seat?”

He didn’t like that. In-ho knew that tone of voice. He had used the same one at his job when he was giving bad news. “No, tell me now.”

The doctor reached up and took off his surgical cap. “Your wife had a large blood vessel in her esophagus explode, causing internal bleeding. We were able to help correct it using bands in surgery.” The doctor sighed again, as In-ho held his breath. “However, that isn’t the concerning part. There is almost always an underlying condition causing this. We sent a rush blood panel down and found that your wife’s liver results came back abnormal. We believe she has cirrhosis.”

Cirrhosis. He had only heard about this in passing when you were studying for your nursing exams. You had made a stack of notecards at least three feet tall, and he spent weeks quizzing you. In-ho had always had a good memory and was usually able to pick out pieces relating to the disease, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember anything relating to cirrhosis.

“What, what does this mean?” In-ho said, panic exuding through his voice.

“I’d like to talk further when your wife wakes up, it’s best if we discuss with the patient and the patient’s family there.”

In-ho wanted to was rush over and hit this doctor until he told him everything he wanted to know, but his priorities were still on you. He had to conserve his energy, and arguing with the doctor would only take more energy than he had to waste. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, she’s right this way.” This doctor said nothing about the blood In-ho was leaving on the floor. He had been doing this a lot longer than the other one and knew that stitches were the least important thing in In-ho’s mind at this point.

You were lying in the bed, still unconscious from surgery. “We were able to go in laparoscopically, meaning that we put a tube down her throat and operated from there.”

In-ho didn’t care about what that meant, he just rushed to your side and grabbed one of your hands in both of his. Your hands felt cold and clammy, and he looked to your side to see that there was a blood bag attached to your arm next to another one giving you other fluids.

“Is there anyone we can call for you? You were listed as her emergency contact, so we weren’t sure if you had any family you’d like us to call.” The nurse waiting next to Dr. Park asked. 

In-ho didn’t pause, “Yes, my brother.” He realized that he had left his phone in your apartment in his rush to get you to the hospital. He quickly gave Jun-ho’s number and went back to directing his complete and full attention at you.

In a couple of minutes, the young doctor from before came into the room pushing a small metal cart. “Mr. Hwang, can I quickly treat your foot wounds? You won’t have to leave her side. It’s best to do it now so you won’t have to leave her side later if it gets worse.”

In-ho didn’t move, and the doctor took it as a sign to continue. The younger doctor had clearly been lectured on what best to say to the loved one of an injured person. He painstakingly pulled glass piece after glass piece out of In-ho’s foot, washed each cut carefully, and then stitched up each one. He was in miserable pain, but In-ho didn’t move. It was a small dosage of the punishment he deserved for ignoring your illness.

The doctor silently left after he was finished wrapping the wounds, and In-ho continued the self-inflicted torture he put himself through inside his head.

The door burst open, and Jun-ho rushed inside, a nurse hot on his heels. “Sir, you can’t be in here! It’s not visiting hours.”

“It’s 6:45, visiting hours start in 15 minutes,” Jun-ho said, ignoring her further protests to run forward and kneel next to his brother. “In-ho, are you alright? What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.” 

“She’s sick. She’s really sick.” In-ho said. 

Jun-ho’s face was shocked. “What are you talking about? How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. I- I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it could be this.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “she had to have surgery. She started…” In-ho shuddered, “she started throwing up blood earlier this morning, and I had to drive her to the hospital.”

Jun-ho didn’t know what to do, or say. His brother was glued to your side, so he couldn’t hug him. They had been through something slightly similar when Jun-ho was 8 and their father had died, but past it both being sick family members, everything else was different. In-ho was 20 when their dad died, and he was the one comforting Jun-ho. Now it was Jun-ho’s turn, and he had no idea how to do it. 

This was his wife. The reason In-ho got out of bed in the morning; you were his entire life. Your wedding date was his passcode, and his lock screen was you on the day you graduated nursing school.

“In-ho, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do they know what it is?”

In-ho squeezed your hand tighter, “I don’t know the details, but it’s something with her liver. It’s… It’s bad Jun-ho.”

There was nothing else for Jun-ho to say. No band-aid that could fix it, not call to anyone to change it. He sat down next to his brother, and like In-ho, waited.

It was only a couple of hours before you woke up, dazed and blinking slowly. Your eyes immediately moved towards the man holding your hand, “In-ho?”

Your voice hurt to speak, it felt like there were rusty nails in your windpipe.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” In-ho surged toward you, beginning to stroke your hair with his hand.

“What- what happened?” You saw In-ho’s brother push a button next to your bed.

“What do you remember?” He said, slowly and soothingly.

“I remember feeling sick, and getting up to throw up, and- and that’s it.” You said, blinking in confusion.

In-ho looked like he started to say something before a doctor and a nurse walked into the room, both of them being people you had worked with before. Dr. Park was the nicest doctor in the hospital you thought. He was a man of few words and never sugarcoated anything, but he always took care of his patients' needs. The nurse was a new hire, she was one that you always covered for, and there was a strange expression on her face.

“Ms. Hwang, I’m glad you're awake.” He said, pulling a stool forward that had been in the corner of the room. 

“My husband was just about to tell me what happened.” You said, still confused at what was happening.  You looked up at In-ho, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face, confusing you even further. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

He did his best to wipe that look off his face, but it didn’t really work, “nothing, I just want to hear what the doctor has to say.”

Dr. Park took a deep breath, before explaining something that would change your life forever. “Ms. Hwang, your husband brought you in early this morning after you threw up blood. He told us that you had been having some odd symptoms, and frankly, some of the staff were able to recount some for me as well. We did some blood work, and noticed some unusual things.” You held your breath. “The first thing we noticed, was that you tested positive for Hepatitis C, do you have any knowledge of this?”

You and In-ho were both shocked, “no, I- I had no idea.” 

Dr. Park sighed again, a sound that was quickly becoming foreboding, “Do you have any past use of drugs, any knowledge of any family members carrying the virus, or any contact with used needles.”

And then it hit you, “Yes. When I was in my first month as a nurse I got stuck with a used needle. My boss- my boss told me that it happened to everyone at some time or another and that we were busy and had to move on.” 

In-ho looked at you horrified, “Honey, what does the disease do?” He whispered, addressing you and not the doctor.

But Dr. Park cut in, “It’s a virus that can go away on its own, but other times it can stay in the body symptom-free for decades before showing harmful symptoms. It’s unlikely to be transmitted through sex, but you should get tested as well.”

While the doctor was speaking, the pieces connected in your head. Hepatitis C, vomiting up blood, the symptoms you thought were nothing. “My liver is failing, isn’t it.”

The four other people in the room turned to you. The look on In-ho’s face killed you, so you had to look away and move your glance to Dr. Park.

He stared you in the eyes, and said, “Yes, it is.”

I'm taking a break from the series, I'll probably write part three after my next fic!

Tags: @bigdaddddyyyyy @kimeungun114 @eviesmoon @jspidey5 @kyl13sm1l3y @watasinekoru @starkeyszn @multifandomgirllol @annasnape7 @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut @unaaasz @vrystalius @ultimate-simp-10

[miniwheat77]

Loser. (Soap x Virgin!Reader.)

!NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, innocent reader, NO MINORS!

Unedited*

“You’d hit that? Even with how innocent Y/N is?”

“Ugh. Until her fuckin’ legs shake mate.” Soap laughs. Gaz rolls his eyes, laughing too. “You’re sick.”

“Nah, I think it’s an act.” Soap smirks. “No twenty-something year old is that naive.”

He doesn’t realize you’re listening on the other side of the door. They’d chose to have this conversation right outside the office you usually worked in. It was late and they didn’t figure you were still inside.

———

Later that night, you’re in the watch tower alone. It’s dark out, it’s pretty late. Soap is supposed to be up here with you, but you’re early. You’re curious about what he had said. What he meant by it anyways. Hit that? Until your legs shake? What does that even mean? You wanted to ask but also knew how wrong it had been of you to eavesdrop in the first place.

Soap walks through the door and startles you out of your daydream and you act as if you hadn’t heard his entire conversation earlier with Gaz. “Hey little lady.” He smiles. “Hi Johnny.” You smile back at him. Looking away quickly. He can tell that you’re acting off. “Everything alright?” He asks. “Uh.. yeah.” You mumble. He can tell you’re off. You knew that you should have listened to the others on base and stayed away from him. Sarah and Layla had told you on more than one occasion to stay away from him but had never actually explained why. You knew that the two could be a little overdramatic at times.

“I have a question actually.” Soap says, sliding a chair up to sit next to you. “Why do you wear your hair like that?” He asks.

“L-like what?” You brush it down. He makes you nervous, you aren't sure why.

“It’s always done up real nice. Sometimes you even got cute clips in it and stuff.” He toys with the ends that hang by your face, seeing the way your cheeks redden by his touch alone. You look down with a laugh. “Uh.. I’m not sure. I guess it’s just something I picked up on from my mo-“ you pause, shaking your head.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks. “Uh.. it’s just… I guess I just don’t like to talk about my parents.” You mumble. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’ll listen anytime you’d like.” He smiles, resting a hand on your knee. It doesn’t seem like it, but Johnny is being genuine. The other girls' words are always echoing around in your head. Johnny seemed nice and you needed to ignore what they said sometimes.

“They uh… they were very religious. So far beyond the normal extent that it was like a cult.” You look up at him. “No offense but is that kind’ve why you’re a little…”

“Sheltered?” You smile. “Well I wasn’t gonna say it.” He laughs.

“Yes it is. They didn’t let me have exposure to stuff like TV or books. Homeschooled all my life, expected to be well kempt and tidy. I guess some things just stuck. My room is spotless and my hair is always fixed.” You shrug. He smiles. “I like it though. Wouldn’t be you if it wasn’t I suppose.” He laughs.

“So. I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I heard you talking to Gaz earlier.”

Soaps cheeks nearly light on fire.

“Uhhh. You weren’t supposed to hear it.” He laughs. “I’m sorry.”

“Well if you’re saying sorry it means it wasn’t good, what you were saying. I don’t know what that means.”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Do uh… you not know what Sex is?”

Your eyes widen. “What? Y-yeah I know what it is. What does that have to do with this?” He sees the way you start to backtrack. How nervous you get talking about it. “I’d hit that” he laughs, repeating himself. In disbelief you have no idea what he meant when he said it. He looks down at the ground away from you. “It’s… a slang term. For sex.” He laughs. You look confused. “You’ve never heard it?” He asks. “No. I know what sex is but I’ve not mapped out the slang terms I guess. So what you were saying.” You swallow hard. Eyes finally moving up to meet his. You're starting to realize what he had meant. “You…” You’re very hesitant. “I would have sex with you, that’s what I meant.” He laughs. You try to play it off with a small laugh but he can see that you’re different now. “I’ve.. I’ve never um…” you rest your hand on the back of your chair. “I know. I can tell.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "I honestly thought that this was some kind of act you were putting up. Until you mentioned your parents. I feel like a dick now. I shouldn't have said what I said and I want you to know that what I was saying was really disrespectful of me. I shouldn't have been saying anything like that." He looks down at his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What?" You ask. "I thought that wanting to have sex with someone is like a compliment or something." You mumble. "It is. Well. Kind of." He shakes his head with a laugh. "Look. It's awkward but I'll teach you all of the stupid slang terms alright? It doesn't make sense, you're supposed to grow up hearing this stuff and learn what it means along the way alright?" He laughs. You nod your head. "Okay. Yeah. Got it. " You blush. "Thank you Johnny." You mumble. "Course.” He laughs.

“You said something else too uh… until my legs shake? What does that mean?” Johnny’s face is on fire, embarrassed and blushing. How is he supposed to explain this away?

He sighs. “Well. This is what I get for being gross ah?” He laughs. “Sometimes during sex if it’s.. rough enough or good enough, your legs will shake. I guess. It’s more complex than that. You know.. Um... I'm gonna write down a website and I want you to look it up. Don't be scared alright? And don't watch it with anyone else around, it's bad."

"If it's bad why are you telling me to watch it?" You ask. "Because... It's about sex and you know how apprehensive you are about it. Everyone else is too. This website it's for adults only, watch it alone. You'll understand. If you see something you want to know about you can ask me or research it on like... an incognito browser on your phone. I'll show you how to do that too." He mumbles. He picks up a piece of printer paper and looks around until he finds a pen. He writes down the very familiar website and than shows you on your phone how to get to an incognito browser. Reminding you to never watch it with people around.

You have an idea of what he's telling you to look up.

Later that night when you’re off watch, you’re making sure your earbuds are connected to your phone before you look up the website he’s telling you about, the front page is intimidating enough before you even click on a video.

Hours later you’re still awake. The amount of terms you’ve learned about, the videos you’ve seen.

You feel corrupted.

Urban Dictionary and a Porn website have turned your entire life around. No wonder your parents kept you sheltered.

You finally fall asleep just a couple hours before you’re supposed to be awake. A new ache between your legs and you’re unsure how to fix it or make it feel better. The next day, you’re exhausted but everything you had learned the night before changed your perspective on everything. The conversations you had overheard from the men on base suddenly made so much sense. Why Layla and Sarah had told you to stay far away from Johnny made so much sense now.

“Uh.. Earth to Y/N. You alright?” Ghost waves his hand in your face and you jerk back away from him, swallowing hard. “Uh.. yeah. Sorry. Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Something keeping you awake love?” Ghost places his hand on your knee and Johnny watches across from the table as you go completely stiff, looking down at his hand. “Yeah.” You say it, “wait no. No I mean no. Sorry.” You shake your head, standing up fast. “Just slept in too late yesterday. I’ve got to go get some paperwork done.” You mumble. “See you guys around.” You wave, hurrying out of the mess hall and into your office. “What was that about?” Ghost laughs. "I think she's just stressed." Johnny laughs. He was getting a little nervous by your reaction. Maybe he had given you too much all at once.

———

You were desperate. You didn't care anymore. It had been almost two weeks since Johnny had showed you the website. He'd answered any questions you had, didn't matter how awkward.

You had so much pent up arousal. You were horny from days and days of watching nothing but videos. You wanted anything. You hurried up the watch tower stairs, heart thudding in your chest. You step inside, nerves growing as you such in a sharp breath. “Hey, everything okay?” He asks.

You swallow hard. “Yeah…”

“No not really.” You mumble. You take your seat like usual and face away from Johnny for a second. You don’t know how to ask him for help, you feel shameful. “What’s goin on? I do somn?” He asks. “Yeah. Yeah you did. You showed me what porn is and now I feel weird all of the time.” You huff. He laughs. “You don’t feel weird. You’re just horny.” You sigh. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Yeah well. It sucks!” You groan. You feel tears pricking your eyes from your frustration. “What, touching yourself isn’t enough?” He laughs. “Touching myself?”

The thought of you doing that sounds foreign. “Oh dear… don’t tell me you’ve been watching 2 weeks worth of porn and haven’t made yourself cum.” He laughs. You stay quiet. “Poor girl, no wonder you’re so frustrated.” He laughs. You stand up, pacing back and forth slow. You’re trying to think to yourself. “I don’t really know how, no really. I’ve seen videos but they’re usually not helpful in the slightest.” Johnny glides his tongue over his bottom lip. Seeing you so frustrated has him a little riled up himself. “I.. not sure how much trust me.” He laughs.

You turn to look at him. Your pupils are blown wide.

“I could show you… if you wa-“

You nod your head before he even finishes his sentence. He leans forward in his chair, motioning you to come forward with his fingers. Your stomach fills with butterflies.

“Just uh.. take a deep breath, alright?” You nod your head. You’re still standing a ways away from him. He reaches out, pulling you forward by the back of your thigh, until you’re right directly in front of him. He looks up at you. “S’alright lass. Nothing to be nervous about.” He mumbles. You’ve sat next to Johnny sure, but this is different. You’re closer to him than you ever have been. He smells like cologne and hair pomade. You close your eyes as you he reaches for your cargo pants. You don’t make any movements to stop him. He continues. He unbuttons them, slow. He doesn’t want to startle you or move too fast. He wants to give you ample time to stop him. You have a choice, he wants to make that known. He tugs them down slightly, you close your eyes tight. Biting your lip. What you were about to trust him with was a lot. Further than you’ve ever gone with anyone else.

He grasps the waistband of your panties, pushing them down just far enough he could get a hand between them and your skin. He glides his hand between them.

Johnny glides the side of his pointer finger across your slit. Collecting your arousal on his finger. When he draws it away he can see just how wet you are. It drives him fucking crazy.

He parts his fingers, seeing strings of your arousal across them. His cock is rock hard in seconds, by far the most turned on he’s ever been in his life. He lets out a laugh. Shaking his head. “My god you are wet.” he shakes his head, biting his lip. He growls under his breath. He wants to devour you. Fuck you until your legs really shake, until you’re crying out for more. “You been watching more videos, Bonnie?” He asks. You nod your head. “See you’ve found one you like” he chuckles. You chew at your lip nervously. “Johnny..” you whine. “Hm?”

“I want to know what it feels like to cum..” you look down at him. “Please show me.” You whine.

“I’ll show you, doll. Just relax into me okay?” He breathes. “Cmere, why don’t you sit in my lap.” He pulls you forward. You spin around, sitting down on him. You can feel his erection pressing into you. He pushes your cargo pants and panties down further, until one of your legs is completely free. “Prop your leg up on me, don’t be shy.” He sighs. His warm breath is right against your ear. He pushes your hair behind your ear, he wants you to hear him. He’s going to talk you through it.

“Just watch my hand. Do as I say. I’ll show you how lass.” He breathes. You nod your head. Your face is hot, in such a daze you barely even know what’s going on around you. “I’m so horny Johnny.. I can’t take it.” You cry. Tears filling your eyes. “Just watch darling..” he trails his hand across your bare stomach, he’d pulled your shirt up. Pushing down, until his huge hand glides over your mound. Stopping just right at the top. He circles over your clit with two of his fingers, feeling you jump against him. “It’s going to be really sensitive. Since you’ve never touched here before, alright?” You nod your head. You’re panting. “It’s your clit. You try.” He moved his hand lower, drawing circles around your opening as you start to rub your clit. You’re getting more comfortable, relaxing into him. “That’s it. Just keep doing that for me, yeah.” He breathes. He raises his hand to his mouth. Using his saliva to wet down his fingers enough. Circling his spit over your hole. He’s prepping you.

“Deep breath.” He mumbles. You nod your head.

He doesn’t have to stretch you too much. He pushes his finger in, feeling you tense up. “Oh god.” You pant. Wiggling your hips lower into him. You pause your movement, whining out. “Keep rubbing your clit baby. I didn’t say to stop.” He breathes. His voice is low and sexy. He’s turned on. A side of Johnny you hadn’t seen.

He pairs another finger up, pushing it back into you. You gasp, clutching his wrist with your free hand. “There you go darling.” Your breaths get a little more rigid. Nearly panting out as he fingers you. “Keep going darling. Gentle, not too fast now.” He guides you.

“I- oh god!” You cry. “There you go baby. That’s it… give it to me.” He whines, raising his hips into you. You can tell he wants relief of his own.

You grasp his hand, forcing him away. “Woah- hey. Everything okay?” He asks. You stand on one leg. Turning so that you could straddle his lap. Sitting down on him again. “F-fuck..” he grits his teeth. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to know what it’s like.” You look him in the eyes. “Y/N.” He warns. He knows what it is you want.

“Johnny.” You repeat his name back. “Your virginity is really important. I think you’re just really turned on. Not thinking straig-“ he clenches his eyes shut as you rut your hips into his. He swallows hard. “You can’t take it back. Once you do it with me, I’ll always be your first.” He breathes. “I think you should really think about it.” He swallows hard. “I think I’ve got my mind made up, MacTavish.” You sigh, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt. You lean into him, lips brushing over his. You kiss him, hard. He can feel your heart thumping in your chest.

Johnny is in shock. Because this isn’t just another hook up and you’re not just another girl.

You’re Y/N. The girl who is supposed to be so far out of his reach, out of his league even. You’re not someone Johnny ever expected to be sitting in his lap, wanting more than just a kiss even. Wanting to…

He has to draw himself out of his trance. You want your first to be him. And Johnny up until this point is recognized as a scumbag. Everyone knows it. He’s desperate for any kind of attention he’ll get. He knows that this is how people feel about him. Maybe they don’t know him, don’t know that he wants to be loved. He wants it all, using any way he can to get it, even if it does make him look like an asshole.

Not anymore. Johnny wants your attention. Yours and yours only, he knows it.

“Okay.. look at me.” He pushes back. “If you want me to do this, we’re gonna do it right.” You nod your head. “We’ll go slow. I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to know that this is how you should be treated. Always. Okay?” You nod your head.

He unbuckles his belt, pushing his jeans down his thighs just enough. You swallow hard at the size of him, not sure what you were expecting. “Are you sure?” You nod your head. Looking at him. You prop yourself up and he helps you. Spitting in his hand and gliding it up his cock. If he had lube he’d use it. Knowing how bad this is about to hurt you. Once he’s got himself lined up with your entrance, you’re eager. Pushing yourself down onto him. He tries to force you to be gentle. You’re in a hurry. Desperate to have him inside of you.

Once you get to that point, where you start to stretch, you slow. Biting your lip. He can tell it’s starting to hurt.

“It’s okay- it’s alright lass. Deep breath for me.” Soaps face crunches up in pleasure, trying his best to conceal it because he doesn’t want to enjoy this when you’re not.

“Oh fuck…” he pants. His voice is so unsteady you can’t help but smile. “Are you okay Johnny?”

“Y-yeah. You just feel so fucking good.” He smiles, eyes closing. “Just a little more, you’re doing so good for me.” He pants. You hiss, and he hesitates. Drawing his hips back into the chair and raising you up slightly. He gathers more arousal at the tip of his cock. Spearing you further onto him. It’s easier to slide like this.

“I’m going to push all of the way alright? Deep breath.” He lowers you completely, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He takes in a sharp breath, standing up with you. It’s not the best place for it, but not the worst. He lays you right on the ground. It’s clean, you’d just cleaned it the night before.

The feeling of all of his body weight on you is intimidating. Something you’ve never felt before. He takes one deep thrust and you’re gasping out, a cry leaving your lips as he penetrates to the deepest parts of you. Just like that, it’s over.

You have your eyes screwed shut and he gives you a couple minutes to adjust before he starts fucking you. He’s slow, trying to ease the pain.

And it works. Your eyes soften as they slowly open, lips going from locked shut to parted. Your hands had a tight hold on his shirt and they’re staring to relax. You were dead quiet, but as he moves you start to pant.

You’re starting to like it.

Soap sighs, thank god.

He keeps a steady pace until he knows you can take more and then he’s rocking his hips into you deeper. “Oh god Johnny.” You mewl, opening your legs wider for him. Giving him complete access to you. His eyes widen.

Johnny has been with his fair share of women, each different from the last. You’re by far the most gentle, skin soft against his. Your clutches are even soft when you run your hands through his mow hawk and grip it. Your body is like a clouded temple and the fact that he’s been allowed inside is something Johnny is going to cherish, he’s never letting this go. He’s made up his mind.

He starts driving himself into you at a brutal pace. You’re trying your best to stay quiet but it’s hard. “Ah, Johnny. S’a lot.” You breathe. “Deep breathes, I said I’d make your legs shake and I intend on it darling.” He chuckles. You can’t help but blush.

He expected it to be easier, but you’re taking a lot. “Johnny I- I’m gonna cum!” You whine. Your legs start to shiver just slightly and he smiles. “Go on doll, show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” You screw your eyes shut, focusing on the knot building and how his cock stimulates the perfect place to make it unwind. He’s getting overwhelmed. This is the first time you’ll ever cum. Not just that. The first time you’ll ever cum, and it’s around his cock. Not from your fingers, or even his. Not a pillow you’re desperately rutting into. Around Johnny’s dick.

He lowers his hand, pressing his fingertips into your clit and your mouth parts in shock, how good he feels is unmatched. A cry barely leaves your lips and he covers your mouth with his hand. Fucking you into your high. When you hit it, your legs shake.

Just like in the videos.

You’re on the verge of crying when Johnny hits his high. He’s panting and whining and it’s almost pathetic as he reaches it. He doesn’t think to pull out.

———

“Y/N. He’s just using you. He wants to fuck you and then dump you. That’s who he is. He’s a loser.” Layla rolls her eyes.

Her words cut through you like a knife. “I.. why are you saying that?”

“Because it’s what guys like him do Y/N. He doesn’t want anything serious. He’d have a girlfriend if that were the case. I bet his body count would cripple you because he’s just a gross loser. He wants sex and no offense, but you’re naive and he knows if he shows up and shows out you’ll be dumb enough to give it to him. No offense.” She waves her hand. “I’m not trying to be a bitch but it’s true. I’m not saying to listen to me, I’m just warning you before you catch feelings and get your heart broken. You heard how he used to talk about you.”

You nod your head. “Thank you.” You mumble, turning away from her. The tears are hot as they spill over your eyelids the moment she can’t see your face anymore. You hurry away.

She was going to go find Johnny.

“I know you’re trying to get your claws into Y/N, but you need to stay away from her.”

She catches Johnny off guard, he’d just gotten off of watch with you. “What are you talking about?” He hurries to cover up the love bites he's got on his neck from you.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been spending so much time with her. I know you. You’re nothing but a loser looking for someone who will put out for you. That’s not her. So leave her alone.” He shakes his head. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“Do I? Because everyone here has heard the way you talk about her and other women.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have anything to prove to you okay? I’m friends with Y/N and I care a lot about her whether you believe it or not." He's getting angry. "Whatever. I guess since she's so stupid and naïve we'll find out when you get her to fuck you." The words are laced with venom.

His face goes stone cold and he pauses, standing straight up and taking a step toward her. He's sharp with her.

"She's not stupid. Say whatever you want about me. Call me a loser, fine. But if you say that to me again we will have a much bigger problem on our hands." He's stern and his voice is quiet. "She's smart and she's had it rough. She's learning everything day by day. Naïve yes. Stupid? Absolutely not. Now back off." He growls. She is a little intimidated but she plays it off with a huff and leaves. His reaction to her calling you stupid had taken her completely off guard.

Maybe he really did have feelings for you.

———

"You know, one way to really find out if he likes her is to hit on him and see if he takes the bait." She shrugs. "Yeah, but I don't want to hurt Y/N by doing that." She sighs. "Layla, she'll get hurt even worse if she gives her V card up to that loser and he treats her like shit after." Her eyes are wide as she looks at her.

"I know Sarah. I guess you're right. Let's give it a go. But I already pissed him off so it's got to be you." She looks up from her tray of food. "Gross. Whatever." She scoffs.

The two wait until that night. Soap gets to the watch tower first and she takes the opportunity, heading up the stairs. Layla stays at the bottom of the stairs just in case.

She wants to stop you at the bottom and give Sarah enough time to do what she needs to do.

"Uh.. something wrong?" You ask. You startle her, she hadn't been paying attention. "Shit! You scared me. No- no nothing is wrong. I just really needed to ask you a question and it couldn't wait." Her response is fast and it has you narrowing your eyes. "What is it?"

"It's... uhh." She pauses, trying to come up with something on the fly. "Look.. about you and Soap..."

"Jesus Layla, I've already starting retracting from him, I really just want this all behind us." You groan, pushing passed her. "Wait!" She grasps your hand. "What is going on? Why are you stalling to keep me down here?" You tear your arm out of her grasp and move further up the stairs but she's hot on your tail. "She's testing him!"

You pause right outside the door. "What?"

"She's going to hit on him to see if he'd cave. Y/N we don't want you to get hurt by him.” She says. "Jesus Christ." You reach for the handle but pause when you hear Soap.

"Sarah, I'm not interested okay? I've told you like 3 times now. I... I like Y/N. And I'm sure she wouldn't like knowing that you're doing this. Because I respect her enough, the moment she comes through those doors I'll tell her." He takes a step back.

You and Layla can hear it on the other side of the door but she tries to stop you as you reach for the door again.

"Oh come on John. You'd be stupid to pass this up." Her voice is low and she's trying to sound sexy. They hear shuffling inside. "You need to leave me alone. I... I love Y/N. You and Layla can believe it or not but I do and I'm done with whatever this is. Back off before I make you."

You shove the door open. "That's enough!" You yell.

Soap and Sarah jump. "What the fuck is the deal?"

"Did you put them up to this?" He asks. "Of course I didn't put them up to this, I'm not fucking crazy." The swears leaving your lips have everyone in the room startled. "I don't know what the obsession is with you two trying to protect me from Soap when it's none of your business!"

"We just don't want you to give your V card to him because he's a fucking loser Y/N!" Layla calls back.

"I already had sex with him!"

The rooms falls quiet.

Their eyes are wide and even Soap is completely baffled. "I already gave him my virginity. I already slept with him, we've had sex multiple times." You have your arms crossed. Scolding them like a mother scolds her kids. "Seriously? Why didn't you lead with that?" Sarah hisses. "Because you both have been acting crazy."

"You.. you love her? You had sex with her and you still like her..?" Layla and Sarah turn to Soap. He looks away. "Yeah. I do. Maybe if you both had given it a chance you would've seen it." He sighs. "I just threw myself at him and he didn't take the bait. I think that's enough for me." Sarah shrugs her shoulders.

"Give us some space please." You sigh.

"Okay.. We owe you a huge apology Y/N. We had no idea." Layla mumbles. "It's fine, we'll talk later." You sigh. They both leave, the moment the door is closed you're locking it behind them. "Those two, my god." You laugh. He starts laughing too. "Yeah, a bit protective." He chuckles. "I'm sorry about that." You roll your eyes.

"It's alright. They're just looking out for you. Hitting on me though, that's a bit crazy."

"Very crazy."

The both of you start laughing, unable to contain it.

"Cat's out of the bag now I guess."

"Yeah, yeah I guess it is." You look up at him. He's beginning to close the distance between the both of you. "You ready to make this official yet or what?" He smirks. "I don't think that that's the way to properly ask a girl out MacTavish."

"I also don't think it was very respectable of you to let me hit it before at least becoming my girlfriend either, Y/L/N." He raises a brow. "Fuck you." You roll your eyes. Playful smile on your lips. "I'll never get used to you cursing like that. It's kind of sexy actually." He leans in, lips right by yours. "Shut up and ask the question Johnny."

"Fine." He laughs.

"Y/N. Will you be my girlfriend? Officially."

"Yes." You laugh. "Thank god." He mumbles, wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist. He pushes you into the wall behind you, you can feel that he's already hard as he presses into you.

"Been waiting weeks to finally hear that lass."

[zhelin-thames]

The night was calm—eerily so, by Amity Park’s usual standards. Danny Fenton, better known to the ghostly underworld as Danny Phantom, leaned against the brick wall of an alley, munching on a cold burger. His patrol had been uneventful for once, and he was planning to call it a night when the sound of footsteps echoed down the street.

Danny didn’t need ghost sense to know someone was watching him. The footsteps were light, precise, and purposeful—not the aimless shuffling of a drunk or the hesitant steps of a passerby. Whoever it was, they were skilled. His eyes flicked toward the shadows, but he kept his posture casual.

And then the kid stepped into the light.

“Train me,” the boy said, his voice even and steady, though his face betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Danny blinked at him. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, dressed in black from head to toe with a hood shadowing most of his face. But it wasn’t just his age that gave Danny pause. It was the look in his eyes—sharp, cold, and determined. This kid was on a mission.

“No,” Danny replied flatly, taking another bite of his burger. He’d seen this kind of determination before—he’d been this kind of determination before—and he wasn’t about to let this kid follow in his footsteps. The vigilante life wasn’t just dangerous; it was a one-way ticket to pain, loss, and an early grave. Danny had survived by the skin of his teeth, but he wasn’t about to play Russian roulette with someone else’s life.

The kid didn’t flinch. “Train me.”

Danny sighed. “No.”

He turned and began walking away, hoping the kid would get the hint, but of course, he didn’t. The boy followed him like a shadow, his footsteps silent but deliberate.

“Train me.”

Danny stopped and turned to face him. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

The kid shook his head. Danny could respect that kind of persistence, even if it was annoying. Still, there was no way he was getting roped into this.

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing, but trust me, you don’t want this life.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy said firmly. “I’ve trained for years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Danny raised an eyebrow. “And what’s your plan when things go sideways? When you’re outnumbered, outgunned, and one mistake away from getting yourself killed? You think martial arts and stubbornness are gonna save you?”

The boy didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened, and Danny could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But we’re doing it my way, got it? First rule: what’s your name?”

The boy straightened, his back rigid with pride. “I am Bruce Wayne.”

Danny froze. Wayne. As in the Wayne family. The rich, fancy folks who owned half the buildings in Gotham. He stared at the kid, suddenly understanding why he was so serious—and why he’d probably been trained in martial arts since he could walk.

“Alright, rule number one,” Danny said, recovering quickly. “When you’re in your vigilante identity, you don’t give people your real name. You need to keep your identities separate. Got it?”

Bruce frowned, clearly not understanding the importance of this, but he nodded.

“Good. Now again—what’s your name?”

The boy hesitated, his brows furrowing as he considered the question. Finally, he squared his shoulders and said, “Batman.”

Danny blinked. Then he blinked again. The kid’s tone was serious—so serious that Danny might have actually been intimidated if not for the fact that his voice cracked halfway through the word.

Danny bit his lip, struggling to hold back a laugh. “Alright, Batsy,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he could stop himself. “Rule number two: no vigilante-ing until you’re twenty. Teenage vigilantes get killed. They make dumb mistakes, and trust me, I know. I was a teenage vigilante, and let me tell you, it’s not worth the risk.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What? No! I need to protect Gotham. I can’t wait four more years to do that!”

It was the first time Danny had heard any real emotion in his voice. The boy’s face softened, just for a moment, and Danny could see the weight of the world pressing down on his narrow shoulders. He wanted to argue, to convince Danny that he was ready, but Danny shook his head.

“Nope,” he said firmly. “You wait until you’re out of the ‘teen’ range, or I don’t train you. End of discussion. And rule number three, which is kind of an extension of rule number one: don’t give out personal information in your vigilante identity. I know you’re sixteen now, and I wasn’t even trying to get that info out of you.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line, and a low growl escaped his throat. Danny couldn’t help but think he sounded like a cranky puppy.

“Fine,” Bruce muttered, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this argument. But Danny could tell he was already filing everything away, committing the rules to memory. The kid was smart, no doubt about that.

“Good,” Danny said with a grin. “Training starts tomorrow, Baby Bat. Meet me at Nasty Burger. Civvies only.”

Years later, Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his head pounding as he argued with a pint-sized acrobat perched on the Batcomputer.

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but Danny was already walking away, his laughter echoing down the alley.

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice low and measured, “you’re not going out there. You’re nine. You wait until you’re twenty, and that’s final.”

Dick Grayson crossed his arms, his small face twisted into a defiant scowl. “But you didn’t wait until you were twenty!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not!”

Bruce groaned. He was starting to understand how Danny must have felt all those years ago.

Meanwhile, in Amity Park, Danny Fenton paused mid-bite of his burger. A strange sensation washed over him—a tingling at the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in years.

“I don’t know where or why,” Danny muttered, narrowing his eyes at the distance, “but I just know Baby Bat is doing something dumb again. And I don’t like it.”

It had been years since Danny Fenton had reluctantly taken on a certain sixteen-year-old Bruce Wayne as a trainee. The so-called Baby Bat had been stubborn, determined, and relentless in his pursuit of justice—even if Danny had been equally stubborn in making sure the kid didn’t get himself killed before he turned twenty.

Now, years later, Bruce Wayne had turned into Batman—the Batman. The name was spoken in hushed tones across the criminal underworld and was plastered on the news every other week. Danny couldn’t help but feel proud… and maybe a little exasperated.

He’d done his job. Bruce was alive, competent, and running Gotham like a pro. Danny had thought his days of worrying about Baby Bat were long behind him.

But that thought was obliterated the moment Bruce reached out through a very specific secure channel.

Danny leaned back on the couch in his apartment, half-listening to an old horror movie playing in the background while munching on chips. His ghostly senses were quiet, and for once, life was calm.

That’s when the Bat-symbol flashed on his computer screen.

He groaned loudly, almost spilling his chips. “I knew it. I freaking knew it. I should’ve ignored this brat the first time he said ‘Train me.’”

Reluctantly, Danny got up and opened the line. The face staring back at him was unmistakable—Bruce Wayne, older now, with sharper angles and a jawline that could probably cut glass. Despite the years, Danny immediately recognized the faint glint of determination (and maybe stubbornness) in his eyes. Some things never changed.

“Bruce,” Danny drawled, leaning against his desk. “What do you want now? Did you break something? Or someone? Or are you just here to tell me about how Gotham still sucks?”

“Danny,” Bruce said, his voice as grave as ever. “I need your help.”

Danny squinted at him, skeptical. “Help? With what? You’re literally Batman now. What could you possibly need from me?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and Danny almost laughed. He’s nervous. What the hell is going on?

Finally, Bruce spoke. “It’s my family.”

Danny blinked. “Your… family?”

“They’re... difficult,” Bruce admitted begrudgingly, and Danny couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You? You, the most difficult person I’ve ever met, are complaining about difficult family members?” Danny wheezed. “Oh, this is rich.”

Bruce didn’t look amused. “Danny.”

“Alright, alright,” Danny said, wiping his eyes. “What’s the deal? You’ve got Alfred, right? Let him handle it.”

“This is different,” Bruce said, and Danny could hear the faintest edge of discomfort in his voice. “You’ll see when you get here.”

And with that, the line cut out.

Danny stared at the blank screen for a moment before sighing. “I swear, if he’s gotten himself in over his head again…”

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor via ghost portal the next evening, stepping out of the swirling green vortex in his Phantom form. The grandeur of the place hit him immediately—it was just as ridiculous as he remembered.

He floated down into the Batcave, landing silently behind Bruce, who was reviewing a crime map on the massive Batcomputer.

“Alright, Batsy,” Danny said, his voice echoing in the cave. “What’s the big deal?”

Bruce didn’t even turn. “They’re here.”

Danny was about to ask who when he heard a series of rapid footsteps and loud voices approaching from the tunnels.

“—I told you to stop touching my stuff, Todd!”

“Like I care, Drake!”

“You’re both insufferable,” another voice cut in, colder and sharper.

“Guys, please!” someone else chimed in, clearly exasperated.

And then they were there—a collection of teenagers and young adults, each looking like they belonged in their own action movie.

Danny blinked. “Bruce,” he said slowly, turning to face him. “Why do you have an army of kids?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as his children assembled in front of Danny.

“Danny, meet my… family.”

The first to step forward was the oldest—a grinning man in his twenties with an acrobat’s grace and bright, mischievous blue eyes. “Dick Grayson,” he said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Danny shook it, eyeing him warily. “The original Robin, huh? Bruce talks about you sometimes. Says you’re the ‘good one.’”

Dick smirked. “Good to know I’m still the favorite.”

“Only because you don’t give me headaches,” Bruce muttered.

The next kid to step forward was a young man with a white streak in his dark hair, a leather jacket, and an air of barely-restrained chaos. He didn’t offer a handshake.

“Jason Todd,” he said, his voice rough. “And you’re the guy who taught Bruce how to nag, huh?”

Danny snorted. “And you’re the one who probably causes most of his headaches.”

Jason smirked. “Damn right.”

The third was a lanky teen with sharp eyes and a smartphone glued to his hand. “Tim Drake,” he said, not looking up from the screen.

“You’re the tech guy, I’m guessing?” Danny said.

Tim nodded distractedly. “You could say that.”

Next was a young boy, no older than ten, with a scowl that could probably scare grown men. He crossed his arms and glared at Danny.

“Damian Wayne,” he said. “Biological son.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the little terror Bruce never shut up about.”

Damian bristled. “I am no terror—”

“Yes, you are,” everyone said in unison.

Danny turned to Bruce, his arms crossed. “So… what do you need my help with? Because it looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “They don’t listen to me. Half the time, they’re arguing. The other half, they’re trying to outsmart each other—or me.”

“And?” Danny prompted.

“And,” Bruce said reluctantly, “I thought you could help… mediate.”

Danny blinked. Then he started laughing again. “You want me to babysit your army of vigilantes?”

“It’s not babysitting,” Bruce growled.

But it absolutely was.

Over the next few days, Danny found himself in the middle of Bat-family antics. Whether it was Jason and Tim bickering over whose tech was better, Dick trying to wrangle everyone for a “team-building exercise,” or Damian threatening to fight literally everyone, Danny was beginning to realize why Bruce looked so perpetually exhausted.

But for all the chaos, there was a sense of family here that Danny couldn’t help but admire. It reminded him of his own ragtag group back in Amity—Sam, Tucker, Jazz, even Vlad in a weird way.

Eventually, Danny pulled Bruce aside. “You know,” he said, “for all your complaining, you’ve built something pretty amazing here. They’re not just your team—they’re your family.”

Bruce looked at his kids, a rare flicker of softness crossing his face. “I know,” he said quietly.

Danny grinned. “Well, you’re still a pain in the ass, but I think you’ve done alright, Batsy.”

And so, Danny’s unexpected reunion with Bruce turned into a week-long crash course in dealing with the next generation of vigilantes. By the time he left, he was exhausted—but also a little proud.

As he stepped back through his portal, he shook his head with a smile.

“Baby Bat really did grow up, huh?”

Somewhere in the Batcave, Bruce smirked.

[bweeeb]

PUPPY EYES

Synopsis: When Pedro doesn't take you to the awards ceremony for his new movie, your relationship starts to go downhill with the thought that maybe you're too young to give him everything he needs.

Warnings: nothing major, angst, couple with problems, Pedro and you are 26 years apart.

Career, projects, new movies, memories, and that topic that always left you unsure—was it negative or positive anticipation when people brought up relationships?

It wasn’t news to anyone that five months ago, when you and Pedro made it official that you’d been secretly seeing each other for a year, people started digging into every little detail. And a few months ago, the age difference between you two didn’t bother anyone in your social circle. Both of you were adults who knew exactly what you were doing with your lives.

Even your parents, who had initially been surprised by the man 26 years older than you, eventually came to accept your choice. So it shouldn’t bother you or anyone else anymore.

"So, I don’t think you’ve ever openly talked about your relationship with Pedro Pascal after making it official. Is it okay if we discuss it?"

The podcast host smiled at you, and you let out an embarrassed laugh, shrugging.

"Why not?"

"How did you two meet?"

"We worked on the same movie, so we were constantly together on set. One thing led to another."

"And you never thought, like, ‘Wow, he’s way too old for me,’ since there’s a significant age gap?"

"Twenty-six years, isn’t it?" Another host interrupted.

"Didn’t he say in an interview that he wouldn’t date anyone with more than a 20-year age difference? Doesn’t that make you curious about what changed?"

"Well, when we met, I didn’t think much about it, and I don’t think he did either. Yes, he mentioned that he wouldn’t date someone with a 20-year age gap. But I’ve always had a thing for DILFs, and he’s definitely one. One thing led to another, without either of us realizing it."

Your cheeks flushed as you spoke honestly, your eyes briefly catching your publicist’s approving thumbs-up from behind the glass.

"I think it’s much more about connection than anything tangible, you know? Our age difference is almost unnoticeable in our day-to-day life now."

"Pedro is, what, around 50 years old? Let’s not pretend it’s entirely unnoticeable." One of them chuckled, and you narrowed your eyes, frustrated at how your words were twisted.

"You’re young, clearly with the body of a 23-year-old, while he’s middle-aged. I think people are just curious about what made you stay." The other one chimed in, leaning toward the mic. You smiled politely, glancing between the camera and the hosts.

"Maybe the real question is what makes him stay. He had a firm opinion, and suddenly, it changed. Pedro has the purest and most beautiful soul in the world. He laughs at his own dad jokes, he shows me things I’d never imagined because he’s from 1975, and he’s a man with a capital M who treats me like the last rose petal in the universe. So, honestly, if he ever agrees to do an interview with you, maybe you should ask him what makes him stay.

"After the podcast aired, what you thought would be a calm discussion turned into a social media battleground. People twisted your words and intentions.

"A man taking care of a child—what nonsense."

"Really, ask him why he stays because she’s unbearable."

"Did she call his jokes ‘dad jokes’? Who does that to their boyfriend? RUN, PEDRO!"

"She’s just after his money."

"The most boring woman in the world is with the hottest man alive. How does that even happen?"

"She has nothing to offer him. Relax, ladies, it won’t last three more months."

"Dakota Johnson seemed interested in him; I wouldn’t be surprised if he ditches this corn husk for her."

"If I knew he was into younger women, I’d have listed a hundred better options than Y/N."

"Wait, guys—he didn’t even take her to the Gladiator premiere. How serious do you think this is?"

It was exhausting. Even though you avoided reading the comments, they popped up everywhere, and all the therapy you’d done to maintain a stable mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. But Pedro couldn’t know, so you plastered on a sweet smile whenever you saw him, even as doubts began to creep in.

Maybe you really were the worst option for him. Maybe someone older, with similar experiences, would be better. Someone more mature, less bubbly and silly.Sitting in the car, you stared blankly out the window as Pedro talked about the Gladiator premiere—the one you hadn’t attended because you weren’t invited.

"Hey, are you okay?" It wasn’t that you weren’t listening. You just didn’t have much to say, so you let him keep talking.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Go on."

Your smile didn’t falter, and you silently thanked yourself for being a good actress.

"No, you’re not fine. What’s wrong?"

"Of course I am. It must’ve been surreal, babe. Even Dakota Johnson was there, right?"

"Yeah, but what’s wrong with you?" His eyes left the road momentarily to glance at you. You shook your head.

"Nothing. You’re just imagining things." You leaned over, cupped his face in your hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling away.

"Eyes on the road, old man."

"Okay, but I thought I was your daddy."

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes as if offended. You loved that about him—the way he was so expressive and dramatic, some might call it embarrassing, but you found it endlessly entertaining.

"You know when you’re my daddy," you said with a mischievous smile, swallowing the rising bitterness in your throat. That night was the last time you slept at his place. Over the following days, you insisted on being dropped off at home, and Pedro didn’t argue. He simply observed your strange behavior.

At first, he thought you might be pregnant and unsure about what to do. But then he remembered you weren’t the type to hide something like that. He considered that maybe you were overwhelmed with your new projects, but you usually loved talking about them. And then, his thoughts landed on your relationship. Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Five days later, the two of you were at a dinner with friends. Everything was going well until it wasn’t.

"Hey, Y/N, why didn’t I see you at the premiere? I thought I’d catch a glimpse of you in a glorious dress," Lux, Pedro’s sister, asked.

Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced with nervous discomfort. Were you supposed to admit you hadn’t been invited? No. Your mom had taught you better than that.

"I…" A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair. You didn’t dare look at Pedro beside you, though you could feel his guilty puppy-dog eyes on you. You wouldn’t give in.

"I had some things tied up with the script for the movie. It was a hectic week."

In reality, the script had been finalized, and even if the writer had faced complications, you’d have found time to support your boyfriend and contribute new ideas to the director.

"Ah, really? What a shame. I hope everything’s okay now," Lux said.

"Oh, it’s all sorted," you replied, forcing a smile.Your smile faltered briefly when Pedro’s hand tried to find yours under the table. Clearing your throat, you stood up, announcing that you needed to use the restroom.When you returned, Pedro was chatting with one of his friends, and you were grateful he was too preoccupied to bring up the earlier conversation.

"Wow, did you do something with your hair? It looks blonder, or is it just me?" Hazel, one of Pedro’s friends’ girlfriends, asked politely.

"Yeah, I did. Amelia’s amazing," you replied.

"Oh my gosh, give me her number, please. I need something this stunning."

"Of course, I’ll even book you an appointment if you want."

"It’s impressive how an older man managed to snag someone as beautiful and sweet as you," Lux teased. Normally, you would’ve laughed it off, but everything felt different that night. You chuckled falsely, smiling as you’d been doing all week.

"Oh, come on, stop that," Pedro said, sounding uneasy. He could sense your odd mood.Of course, you were acting strange.

Everything had been strange lately.

Later, in the car, your gaze rested on your hands in your lap while you felt Pedro’s eyes boring into the side of your face.

"Honey—"

"If we could not talk about this now, I’d be much happier. Can you just take me home?"

"You know I want to—"

"Pedro."You turned to him, tired of pretending. Your voice was tense, and he immediately understood how serious it was. You never called him by his name. "Stop." Your tone wasn’t angry or annoyed, just lifeless. That terrified him. Women didn’t usually scare him. At nearly 50 years old, he thought he’d learned to handle these situations.

"I’m sorry, okay."

His gaze returned to the road, while you looked out the window, waiting to get home.

As you were arriving, you realized he wasn't taking you to your house but to his instead. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh and covered your face with both hands.

"What are you doing?" The words came out muffled as you felt him slow down.

"Going home."

"This is the way to your house."

"My house is your house, darling."

"You know what I mean," you whispered, exhausted.

"I thought you didn’t want to go. That it would be too much pressure for you, that... that you wouldn’t want people talking."

You heard him lament, and biting your lip, you sniffled. You tried hard not to act childish in the situation, looking up and taking a deep breath, reminding yourself not to let the tears fall.

"I know," was all you managed to reply before your voice broke.

"I... I just need to think for a bit."

"Think... right. Think about what?"

"Can you please take me home?" Pedro nodded at that and drove to your building. For the first time, he felt a strange haze between the two of you.

"Thank you." Even in the awkwardness, there you were, sweet as ever. Pedro could never deny how much he appreciated that about you—the way you always thanked everyone for everything. You were so pure. "Anytime." You opened the car door and stepped out, but before you entered the building, Pedro got out and called after you.

"I'm sorry. And I love you." That’s what he said before you turned to look at him with sad eyes—the same expression you wore when you thought he had forgotten to pick you up for a date, only to find out he was planning a surprise trip to Chile.That night, Pedro went home with his tail between his legs. When Lux called him in the morning, he couldn’t have felt worse.

"You look like one of the infected from The Last of Us. Gross."Lux teased as Pedro rubbed his face with his left hand."What do you want?"

"Wow. Rude."

"Sorry, I didn’t sleep. Just tell me why you’re calling me at six in the morning."

"I was thinking about how you said Y/N was acting strange, and I agree. Last night, she was quieter than usual. Pero luego empecé a preguntarme: ¿la invitaste al estreno? Porque se puso muy rara después de que lo mencioné y estaba revisando los comentarios..." ( But then I started wondering—did you invite her to the premiere? Because she got all weird after I brought it up, and I was checking the comments...)

"Ya te dije que no revises los comentarios. La gente está loca". (I already told you not to check the comments. People are insane.)

Pedro rolled his eyes, sighed, and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. You and Pedro had talked about ignoring online negativity countless times. Neither of you usually cared about it. You weren’t starting now, were you?

"Lo sé, lo sé, pero se están portando fatal con ella. Y al no invitarla, la gente pensó que la estaban dejando de lado". ( I know, I know, but they’re being awful to her. And not inviting her made people think you were sidelining her.)

Lux sounded worried, almost angry.

"Eso es ridículo. Yo nunca haría algo así. Ella lo sabe. "(That’s ridiculous. I’d never do that—she knows that.)

"La compararon con Dakota Johnson. No es justo, son completamente diferentes. Dijeron que te cansarías de la 'niña'. Sabemos que es más madura que la mayoría de las mujeres, pero aún es joven". ( They compared her to Dakota Johnson. It’s not even fair—they’re completely different. They said you’ll get tired of the ‘kid.’ We know she’s more mature than most women, but she’s still young. )

Pedro propped his elbows on his knees and sighed. You had never acted immaturely. You never made rash decisions or threw tantrums over small things. You never picked fights or complained about work or friends. People didn’t know anything about your relationship—how could they?

"¿Crees que está preocupada? "(Do you think she’s worried)

"La mujer está intentando mantener la compostura y alejarse antes de que la abandones, como todos han estado diciendo". (The woman’s trying to hold herself together and pulling away before you ditch her like everyone’s been saying.)

Lux sighed and continued,

"Deberías haber escuchado cómo habló de ti en ese podcast. Nadie más sería así, no como ella. Haz algo. ( You should’ve heard how she talked about you on that podcast. No one else would be like that—not like her. Do something. )

Fuck. Pedro thought. He’d be stuck working all day, knowing you were likely asleep now. As the day went on, you ignored his missed calls. Not as an act of immaturity but because you needed personal space. You planned to talk to him eventually, but your phone felt like a weight you couldn’t bear. Instead, you threw yourself into work, ensuring every detail was perfect.Later, your group decided to go out for dinner, and you joined to keep your mind occupied. You loved them all but remained mostly a listener. Exhausted from a sleepless night, you struggled to follow the conversation, though you smiled at their stories.After dinner, you excused yourself to the restroom. As you washed your hands, you overheard two women talking in mocking tones.

"Do you think it’s a PR stunt?"

You frowned, listening as the other responded,

"It must be. I mean, it’s all over the news, and she’s playing the sad little girl role."

"Yeah, right? He used to call someone 25 a kid, and now he’s with a 23-year-old? Ridiculous."

"Did you see the photo of him with Dakota at the bar?"

"What? When?"

"Today, about an hour ago. She was kissing his cheek, and even if it’s for the movie, I doubt it. They weren’t even working."

"Think he’ll trade her in?"

"She won’t last ten days."

You grabbed your phone and opened Twitter. The first thing you saw was the photo of him and Dakota. He had that drunken smile on his face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. You weren’t the jealous type, fully aware of how PR worked in Hollywood, but it still stung.You washed your hands, turned to face them, and said,

"At least I’m more than a nameless extra without a single line. The only roles your venomous tongues will land you are in adult films, and not the Pearl kind—cheap, disgusting ones. Have a good night.

"With that, you left, hailed a cab, and went home. Fighting back tears, you repeated to yourself, Don’t cry. It’s just a picture. You ignored him all day, so stop acting like this.But for the first time, you cried over something like this.

Your head ached, and with the tip of your nose red, you picked up the phone and called him—without thinking too much, without wrestling with your thoughts. You just did what you felt needed to be done.The first call went straight to voicemail, and even though the thought of not wanting to humiliate yourself for him crossed your mind, you ignored it, knowing you were the one who had lost ground first. On the second call, your phone was answered, and the muffled sound made you swallow hard—he was out of the house.

“Hey.”

Your voice came out low, and you heard some murmurs on the other side, blending with loud conversation.

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice called from the other side, and you grimaced. “Uh, hi. Is Pedro there?”

“Uh, he’s kind of busy right now,” she said.

“Busy…” you repeated softly. “Who are you?”

“Carly.”

Carly? Who the hell is Carly? you thought immediately.

“Then tell him I called, Carly.”

“And you are…?” The mocking tone in her voice irritated you, and your expression was far from pleasant.

“A friend. Tell him a friend called.”

“Great.” She hung up without saying anything else, and you wrapped yourself in your own cocoon of blankets that didn’t warm you like Pedro did.Suits was playing on TV while you avoided going to bed, eventually falling asleep without even realizing it. Around 3 a.m., frantic knocks on your door startled you awake, making you look warily down the hallway. The doormen usually informed you of anyone coming to your floor.

Cautiously, you peeked through the peephole and saw him there, rubbing his face with his two hands, five times bigger than yours. You stopped, stepped back from the door, and sighed before opening it. Once you unlocked the door’s security latch, you looked at him and almost closed it again upon seeing your reflection, still wearing his shirt.

“It’s late. What are you doing here?” Your voice came out softly, and you saw Pedro stammer as he raised his hand in a nervous tic.

“A friend?”

“What?”

“Why did you say you were just a friend, sweetheart?” Pedro asked, stepping forward. You didn’t step back, only shrugged and gave a disheartened smile

.“She said you were busy. I thought it would be more… convenient than saying something else.”

“You’re something else. You’re my girlfriend. And my fiancée. And my wife. And I don’t care if you want to be the mother of my kids when I’m a hundred years old.”

He’s so drunk, you thought.

“How much tequila did you drink, Pedro?”

“The whole bottle.” He laughed, moving closer and gently touching your face. He’d always been gentle; being drunk didn’t change that.

“Please don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me.”

“I won’t say anything to you while you reek of cheap booze and cheap women.” You closed the door behind him and stepped away, heading to the hallway and your closet to grab a towel and clean clothes for him.

“Take a shower. If you sober up, we’ll talk.”

Pedro knew what you were thinking—that he’d gotten mad, drunk with his friends, and gone out with women named Carly. But he hadn’t done anything other than stare at the karaoke machine, hating every second he wasn’t there to mock what he was hearing.

“Everything’s cheap,” he laughed, following you.

“You know what isn’t cheap, Pedro? My patience. I haven’t slept well in over a week, and now it’s almost four in the morning, which means it’s been twenty minutes since you showed up at my door, and I don’t know why the hell you’re not naked yet.”

Your words left your mouth, and Pedro smiled at you.

“One day without you, and I forget how hot you are when you’re bossy and sleepy,” he slurred, making you laugh softly as you turned on the shower and pushed him into the bathroom.

“Don’t fall in there, please.”

Fifteen minutes after you pushed him inside, your eyes were heavy, and the strange way your body associated his presence with a different kind of rest annoyed you. Without realizing it, you fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in your blanket. It was as if your body said":

— Oh, it’s okay; Pedro’s home, so we’re safe,— but was your heart safe?When he saw you asleep there, the tequila had only left him dizzy—nothing a cold shower couldn’t fix. He approached and carried you to your room without thinking twice, whispering as he looked at your face:

“I’m so sorry, my preatty little thing.”

He laid you on the bed, and as he was about to leave, he heard you murmur:

“Stay. Please.”

Without hesitation, he lay beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both in a cocoon where it was just the two of you.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m not the right person for you?” you murmured, burying your head in his neck and feeling his hands trail up your back.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m not the right person for you, sweetheart?” he emphasized, and you sighed.

“I’m scared of losing you when you realize I’m too young, too naïve, and haven’t even experienced half of what you have.”

“I don’t even know why you’re thinking that. I’m the one who’s old. You’re perfect, intelligent, hot, and extremely talented—a young woman who fell into the arms of an old man like me.”

“Yeah, but I think maybe one day you’ll want someone your own age, someone like Sarah or any of your exes. I think it’s okay if you get bored of me, start feeling ashamed, and—”

“Stop. Stop that.” Pedro cupped your face, pulling it from his neck and making you look into his eyes. Your hands rested on his chest as you stared at him, and with a disheartened smile, Pedro caressed your face, clearly upset. When had your relationship reached such a fragile state?

“I didn’t take you to the premiere because the press is cruel. They’d talk about you, probably reinforce the rumors, and talk about me—call me a disgusting creep. I was going to take you, but all of our advisors told me not to risk exposing you in a bad light. I… I would never feel ashamed of you, for God’s sake. Look at you. A woman of any age wouldn’t hold a candle to you in a million years.”

Sniffling, you climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pedro sat on the bed, hugging you back, his hand resting gently on your waist.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. Whatever was written about you was a lie. God, I don’t think I even know how to live without you by my side anymore.”

You laughed, and a smile appeared on his lips.

“You don’t need to worry either. Other men lost their appeal the moment you wanted me.”

“That’s good, sweetheart.”

His hand traveled to the back of your neck, his large fingers running through your hair.

“And who was Carly?”

“A friend of the group.”

" And why did she have your cell phone?"

" It stayed on the table because I focused on looking at it for five to five minutes waiting for you to send me a message. "

“And the photo?”

He knew what you were referring to, and when he took it, he hadn’t expected it to reach you before you two made up—if you made up.

“It was to promote the movie, sweetheart. Dakota’s engaged.”

He brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Hmm, alright.” You looked at him, tracing your fingers from his hair to his beard until they stopped at his mustache.

“Stop looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes. It makes you irresistible.”

“Like this?”

He did it again, and you laughed, kissing his lips immediately after.

“Mm-hmm, like that.”

You murmured against his lips as he smiled at you, and you whispered,

“I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart. Just you.”

Pedro pulled you close, laying you back against the soft mattress, kissing you as if it were the last moment of your lives. At least, that’s what both of you hoped.

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

I apologize if there are any mistakes in this writing. I didn't proofread it with the best eyes.

Requests are open

[clxja16]

Not Actually Together

Charles Leclerc X Reader

Genre: faking dating au!

Warnings: none atm

Word Count: 1.4K

Author's Note: I have not written a part two for this, so idk when or if a part two will ever come out. other than that enjoy ;) <3 I also feel like this really stupid, please give any feedback

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

“Hey, can I speak to you?” Charles questioned from across the room as he made his way towards you through the motorhome, “privately please.” 

“Of course,” you answered, following after Charles, going to his private suite.  After the two of you entered the room, shutting the door on the rest of the world, “what would you like to talk about?”  You smile sweetly as you ask Charles.  

Charles forgets for a moment what he wanted to ask, you smiled and he forgot how to breathe, let alone speak.  “What do you think of her?” Charles asked, still looking at you but, pushing his phone forward.  Showing you a picture of some girl, “her name is Alexandra.” 

“She’s pretty,” you answered, still smiling so sweetly at Charles, “Did she make a move on you?” 

 Charles looks back at the photo on his phone.  “Yeah she did,” Charles spoke hesitantly, cautiously looking back at you.  Looking for any sign of  ire.  

“Are you asking for my permission to go after her?” You question with a small chuckle, Charles was quite cute when he was nervous.   

“I…” Charles sighed, “I just wanted to know what your thoughts were.”  Charles looks at the picture of Alexandra on his phone in front of him.  She was certainly quite beautiful, she was most definitely his type.  Why does he have such an uneasy feeling though? 

“Charles, this is only for the public.  We’re not actually together, if you wanna go date her, then go, do it.  I’m not holding you to this fake relationship.” You said, with a bit of a laugh, trying to mask the tiny bit of heartbreak you were feeling.  Charles was never yours to begin with, there is no reason to pretend he is. 

“Are you sure?” Charles wanted you to stop him.  He wanted you to hold him to this relationship.  He wanted you to disapprove.  He wanted you to tell him no.  But he knew you wouldn’t do that to him.  You’re only going to do what you think makes him happy.  

“Charles, we’re only in this predicament because you don’t have the best track record when picking girls.  So the team picked me for you, that way your fans will actually like your girlfriend.  This is simply because the team wants it. This isn’t real, go ask Alex out.” You say it so casually, Charles loathes the way you push him towards Alexandra.  He wants you to fight, he wants you to be jealous, he wants you to want him.  

“Thank you…” Charles says looking back at the photo displayed on his phone.  He looks at Alexandra, and he thinks maybe it’s time to move on.  “For your permission, thank you,” Charles says grateful, he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the temple.  

When you finally pull away from his embrace you say, “just don’t make me look like a fool.”  

Charles chuckles at the request, “what do you mean?” 

“Don’t be flaunting Alex all around,” you say, in a very serious tone.  You look at Charles squarely this time, you want him to understand you completely.   “I don’t mean to be cocky or egotistical, but I play a fucking good girlfriend to you for the public.  So don’t be flaunting Alex all around, making me look like the stupid little naive girl that everyone knows is getting cheated on.” 

Charles nods along, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”  He can’t imagine anyone wanting to cheat if they were with you, “I promise I won’t do that to you.” 

“Thank you,” you say earnestly.  Even if the intimate relationship wasn’t real, the respect and the friendship you and Charles have built, is authentic.  

“Why don’t you go out with someone too?” Charles asks, curious as to why in these past six months of faking a relationship you never brought up anyone.  

“Well there is this guy that I have a thing for,” you say honestly. 

“Why don’t we go on a double date, that way fans won’t get suspicious?” 

“No no,” you laugh at the request, “this guy has no feelings for me whatsoever.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“We talked about it before,” you half-lie, you weren’t exactly fully truthful when you ‘talked about it.’ 

“Well, let’s look for someone, for you,” Charles says, completely serious about the notion.  Maybe if you’re with someone too, it would be easier to let you go. 

“No,” you laugh more, you don’t think you’ve ever heard such a ridiculous idea, “no way.” 

Charles laughs at your dismissiveness of the situation, “what about Pierre?” 

“I’m sure Pierre is very serious about Kika,” you say, with a bit of a chuckle at how serious Charles is acting about finding someone to set you up with.  

“Well I’m gonna find you someone, I can assure you,” Charles declares, almost like it was an official notion.  “I have to go down for a briefing, then I'll be back and we can go out to dinner tonight.” 

“Put on a show for the fans tonight?” you question, watching Charles. 

“Of course, my dear,” Charles says overdramatically with a wink, before walking out.  

After Charles leaves, you feel your smile fall.  You want to laugh at yourself for thinking Charles could have wanted you.  The tears start to brim your eyes and you can’t help but thinking you did this to yourself.  You allowed yourself to be in this predicament, so now you must live with it. Just until the season ends, that’s what you tell yourself.  Six more months, give or take.  

-

“Hey,” Carlos said, trying to get his teammates' attention, “why so…” Carlos makes an over exaggerated frowny face at Charles.  

“I don’t know,” Charles said, still replaying his earlier conversation with you.  He tries to find any sign of anything from you.  He dissects every word you utter, he questions every thought spoken, he searches for any inclination that you might’ve lied. 

“Did you speak to y/n about Alex?” 

“I did,” Charles answers, not expounding on his response.  

“She said no?” 

“No,” Charles says with a certain level of surprise, “She said okay.” 

“Great, that’s what you wanted,” Carlos says, “right?  That is what you wanted?”  Carlos has a feeling that this isn’t what Charles wanted, but it’s really not his place to say. 

“It is,” Charles sighs, “but I don’t know something about y/n being so okay with it, it bothers me.” Charles got up and started to pace, while Carlos decided to take a seat, watching his teammate work through this.  “Did you know there’s someone that she's interested in?”

“Y/n?” Carlos questions just to be sure, “don’t tell me that’s bothering you.” 

“No, it’s not,” Charles says, half trying to convince Carlos, the other half trying to convince himself.  “It’s just, y/n said that he’s not interested in her.  I mean how can someone not be interested in y/n, she's crazy smart.  She’s so kind. Did you know at this past Monaco grand prix, she helped collect gifts from the fans to give to me?  She knows how to cook, and not to mention she’s bloody beautiful.” Charles says with a full grin, as he thinks about you.  He can picture you clearly, he has memorized every little detail of your face, down to the way you scrunch your nose when you don’t want to laugh at his horrible jokes.  

Carlos laughs at his blind teammate, “clearly, you’re not really interested in Alex.” 

Charles sighs again, “I thought if I had brought up Alex to y/n, she would give me some type of sign that she was into me, like i’m into her,” he confesses to Carlos.  “I thought maybe, I could get a reaction or something,” Charles shakes his head at himself, he can hear how stupid he sounds without Carlos pointing it out for him.  

Carlos has never wanted to slap someone, as much as he wants to slap Charles.  Carlos runs his hands across his face, “that is the most singularly stupidest idea I have ever heard, and I have heard our race strategies before.  Why didn’t you just outright ask y/n if she liked you?” 

“I didn’t want to be so obvious about it,” Charles shrugs, “Plus it's better this way, she already said she’s interested in someone else.  Not to mention I have tried for the past six months to turn this into a real relationship, this is just me finally moving on.  I deserve to move on don’t I?” 

“Of course you deserve to move on Charles,” Carlos sighs, “but do you even want to move on, or do you think you have to?” 

Charles doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how to respond even if he wanted to.

[ramp-it-up]

Worth the Fall

Summary: James Bucky Barnes WAS an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Despite the fact you have questions about Bucky and your parents’ conversation at Thanksgiving, you’re hitting your groove as a couple, but there is no time for alone time.

Word count: 3.4 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This part of the story is getting everything caught up to a month ago, lmao. Thank you for continuing to rock with this story. And let me know if you like it (I hope you do!)

This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both You've Got Me Thinking and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Initial angst, Steve and Peach, Bucky’s anxiety. No time for nookie! Flirting Intimations of sexting and phone sex. Praise kink, fluffy Bucky, horny Bucky, dom Bucky. F@cking versus making love, wall time, sex with clothes on, raw p in v, creampie, after care, intimations of oral (f receiving!) dirty talk, Bucky applies for a second job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

————

You walked along the sand and inhaled the ocean air.

You were shaken to the core. 

Bucky Barnes had surely just taken your parents out to ask for your hand in marriage. But it was so soon, how could he be so sure?

Also, you were an independent woman. How dare he talk to your parents before he asked you to marry him!

He wasn’t your feudal lord.

You were scared witless and turned to the waves to try and calm down. 

“He loves the hell out of you, you know.”

Steve had fallen in beside you as you stared at the ocean. You looked up at him, trying to smile, but failing. To Steve you looked terrified.

“It’s just so….”

Steve smiled to himself, remembering that Bucky had purchased the ring weeks before, after just a few days of knowing you. But that wasn’t his story to tell.

“Just know that I’ve never seen him like this. And I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never been so open, so determined with a woman before. You make him a better man. It’s truly amazing.”

Steve looked so earnest. Your cousin had done quite a number on him.

“You don’t have to be scared. You are ‘The One’ for him.”

This time you managed a smile and an arched eyebrow. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about his best friend.

Steve chuckled.

“Gah. Don’t look at me like that. You and Peach and that eyebrow.”

You laughed at that and grinned, more relaxed now.

Steve looked off into the waves himself.

“So fucking cute…”

He looked down and kicked a rock, a small smile on his face. You could tell he had it bad.

“Thanks for the pep talk Steve-o. And I get what you’re saying. I love Bucky Barnes with all my might, making every other relationship I’ve ever had seem… trivial.”

You glanced at Steve, who was nodding at your sentiment.

“I’m just spooked at the possibilities. I mean…this seems…like a lot.”

“I know. Bucky gets intense.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Understatement of the year. And you’re a lot like your friend.”

Steve looked at you, one eye closed from the sunlight in his eyes. He didn’t have any sunglasses and the sun highlighted his windswept hair and the planes of his handsome face. You were squinting at him and you could totally see why Peach let him touch her goodies. 

Steve was kinda hot.

You sighed.

“Listen. I’ll be alright. Bucky and I just need to chat.”

Steve smirked.

“Chat. Is that what the kids call it now?”

You laughed and swatted him on the arm as you continued walking again.

“Fuck you, Steve. But for real. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it. And I love you for it. I just wish my cousin could see this side of you.”

Steve scoffed.

“Fucked that up good, didn’t I?”

“Not gonna lie, she’s kinda blinded by rage right now. But don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”

Steve looked at you skeptically and you shrugged.

“80– 75% chance she’ll come around.”

You both laughed.

“Just remember what I said yesterday. She’s a tough nut, but she has a huge heart behind that wall. She is determined about the success of that dance school and she is competitive as fuck. You know what to do.”

Steve grinned. 

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

—-

You and Steve re-entered the kitchen laughing, you holding on to his arm. 

Peach was at the table drinking coffee and dedicated to ignoring Steve.

“Thanks again for the pep talk Steve. I appreciate it.”

You gave him a long hug and when you separated, you saw Peach’s eyebrow cocked in what you could only imagine was the way Steve described. You stifled a giggle and leaned up on your tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“You better stop before Bucky comes back and chops me in the throat.”

Peach humphed, and you knew exactly what she was thinking.

You laughed at Steve as he headed toward the stairs, ignoring Peach right back.

“I’m gonna go get my running shoes. A turn down the beach will help me get some of this tension out.”

You watched Peach as she watched Steve roll his neck and stretch on his way out of the room, her coffee stalled in mid air. Her head was on a swivel as he walked out of the room, checking out his formidable ass. She sighed and then remembered that you were there.

You looked at her and she looked at you.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say a word, cousin. Yet. But we will talk later. Any coffee left?”

—-

The week ended up smoother than when Bucky and Steve arrived, and before you and he and Steve left on the jet back to New York, Bucky surprised everyone with an invitation to Vermont for Christmas. 

Your heart did a funny little thing because why would he invite your entire family on an all expense holiday vacation from Christmas Eve to New Years unless he was going to…

You couldn’t dwell on what ifs, and you didn’t want to spook yourself. You just decided to appreciate the moment.

It was funny watching your cousin’s face and the corresponding look on Steve’s. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be stressful at all.

Perhaps there would be entertainment.

—---

Later, back in Brooklyn, there was a whirlwind of activity as the Rebirth Foundation geared up for the annual summit and gala. 

During the second week in December, Rebirth Endowment recipients (which included your cousin this year!) flew in, were oriented and toured around New York City. The two culminating events were the summit, held at NYU, where there was an art lecture series, a panel, and the gala. 

Steve usually participated in the summit by himself, with Sam or Natasha sometimes joining him on stage along with the city’s movers and shakers in the art scene.

But this year Bucky was participating.

He said he wanted to be more prominent in the Art community moving forward as a path toward legitimacy, and you knew that tangentially, that had something to do with you.

When you got back from Thanksgiving, there was a week to prepare for the activities. Your Arts and Culture Alliance in Brownsville, as a part of Rebirth through the Howard Benson exhibit, was a stop on the tour, and you had a ton of work to do. 

Bucky and his three partners obviously had their own long list of to dos, but he also needed to be there for Steve, who was a wreck at the thought of Peach coming into town. 

Steve was so far gone.

But James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d never seen Bucky Barnes shook. 

Sure, you’d seen him excited, impatient, horny, angry, and a little irritated, but never truly nervous.

And you shouldn’t have thought it, but it was adorable. 

Friday night, you met your cousin at the airport and witnessed the beginning of her downfall. The cocktail reception later at the hotel had her, and by proxy your own, head spinning. 

You grinned at the way Steve was handling everything. 

Bucky was beautiful and you admired him as he toasted the guests, his beautiful tenor a nice contrast from Steve’s baritone as they both gave their salutations. Only you knew how anxious he was to speak in front of people and for everything to go well. You felt privileged.

You realized that James Buchanan Barnes was a good man who just wanted to be better for you and for his community.

And suddenly you were not afraid of a future with him.

—-

During this time, you two shared brief cuddles and quick kisses, furtive touches and brief bouts of handholding when you saw each other at events. The mornings meant salacious pictures and quick phone sex to take the edge off, but you weren’t able to luxuriate in each other as you usually did.

You missed Bucky’s full attention, but the fact that you were working together on something worthwhile was the shit. You loved this man and you wanted to work beside him as an equal, not just be his sex toy.

This was the week that you fell completely in love with Bucky Barnes.

Thursday was the day of the Rebirth Art Summit and Bucky was pacing up and down his home office, reading glasses switching locations from perched on top of his head, to his delectable mouth, to his handsome face as he reviewed his notes.

You looked up from the ones in your hands with which you were quizzing him and smiled at him.

“Jamie, it’s going to be okay.”

He stopped to look at you, a faint smile on his face. He came over and pecked you on the lips and gave you a hug.

“‘M so glad you are here tonight, even though you tried to stay away.”

You sighed into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his Bucky smell.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you, I was just giving you space. I know tomorrow is important to you and I don’t want to distract—”

“Frumoasă. You don’t distract from anything. If anything, you add to my life. You add so, so much. I love you. And I miss you. I want you here with me tonight.”

You melted into him, chuckled and shook your head as he held you. This feeling was crazy.

“What?”

You heard his voice in his chest, but he didn’t move, except to sway just a little, as if soothing you. It worked.

“I love you too, Bucky. And I miss you too. So much. It’s wild to feel so much in such a short amount of time.”

You and Bucky had only been together about three months, but you knew this was it.

“When you know, you know, my love. And we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

You hugged him tighter. What was understood didn’t need to be said.

He kissed the top of your head and then moved back so he could see into your eyes.

“And having you in my space while I get ready for an important event is everything.”

You looked him in the eye, thinking of sucking his dick for being such a dream.

“Bucky…”

Bucky took your hand and raised it to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that, Frumoasă. I will be forced to fuck you all night long, something that is long overdue.”

He kissed your forehead.

“But there is much work to do.”

You cast your eyes down and whispered, “You’re right.”

Bucky took you in, looking so demure and being so patient with him. It was such a turn on.

“Such a Good Girl for me.”

You wanted to fall to your knees, but you just bit your lip and went to sit back down, crossing your legs as you began quizzing him again. 

Soon, you told your pulsing pussy. Soon.

You worked late into the night and soon dozed on the leather couch in his study. The next morning, you woke in Bucky’s bed with a sweet note on your pillow. You smiled and knew that he’d carried you to bed and held you all night long.

—--

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

You sucked your teeth at your cousin’s comment, but you didn’t pull your gaze away from Bucky up on the dias the next day at NYU. 

You were proud and in awe of your man. Your smirk turned into a grin as he glanced at you and started to speak.

You were down bad. And Bucky was too. After almost two weeks with little to no physicality, your energy was at supernova strength and about to cause a black hole in the universe.

That’s how intense this thing was. 

You were wet and hard and soft in all the right places.

Bucky had to pause frequently for the interpreter, and it gave you a chance to make googly eyes at each other. You ignored Peach’s subtle retching noises as you concentrated on Bucky. But you cut your eyes over to her while Steve spoke and found her visibly eye fucking him. You smirked when she noticed you noticing.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

She was trying to distract you. You laughed.

“Fucking-A.” 

You nodded up at the stage.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You were shocked as hell when she responded.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

You elected not to tease her about her response. It seemed as if Steve was working the plan.

You resumed watched as Bucky did his thing. He was glowing, handsome and impressive as hell. No one would believe he was as introverted as he was. But he was flourishing in the spotlight, seemingly born for his. He exuded confidence. 

It was such a turn on.

—-

Bucky watched you watching him and talking to your cousin and knew your tells. You were probably wet and ready for him. He briefly thought of what he was going to do to you later before he refocused on the task at hand. Knowing you were there for him was such motivation.

When he made his way back over to you, you were an angel, giving him a huge hug and exclaiming, “You were so fucking good up there, Jamie! I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky felt his heart explode and although someone was pulling him away from you, he mouthed a promise in your direction.

—-

“Later...”

You definitely read those sexy lips and your heart started racing. You looked around for your cousin, expecting to be roasted, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged and made your way to the subway, assuming that she was gathering with the other recipients. There was more work to do in Brownsville and you were busy anticipating the night.

You waited all day for Bucky’s text to tell you what time Nico was picking you up, but it never came. The rest of the day flew by and by the time you were walking home, daydreaming of dressing up for the gala tomorrow night and what Bucky might wear, you happened to check your phone and saw messages he’d sent just 10 minutes before:

You looked so good today. Especially this morning. Good enough to eat.

I’ll be at your place in 30. Wear that bra, no top, that skirt, no panties, and those heels.

You blushed and thought of the mirror selfie of the cream lace lingerie set you were wearing underneath your cream colored cowl neck sweater and grey wool pencil skirt that matched your grey wool coat.

Yes, Daddy, you replied and picked up the pace to make it to your brownstone ahead of him, your heart beating a mile a minute.

You thought you were prepared when you opened the door after Bucky knocked, but you weren’t.

In fact, you were shaking with anticipation.

There he was, bundled up from the cold, but those blue eyes sparkling down at you.

Bucky stared at you for a beat, and then walked toward you, taking your face in his hands and backing you up against the entryway wall, kicking the door closed behind him.

“My Frumoasă. So good. So perfect”

And then he leaned down and kissed you.

—-

Bucky had the strangest thought as you opened your door.

I’m home.

Although this was not his place, he realized that you were his home and that he couldn’t wait to make you his wife. His eyes swept down your form, pleased that you had followed instructions. You were such a badass, capable woman and partner and he just had to be inside you soon. 

He complimented you and his cock stiffened as your mouth parted in desire. He knew your praise kink very well. Bucky cradled your beautiful face and moved inside to kiss you.

His demanding mouth parted your trembling lips, sending tremors through your body. You clung to the lapels of his coat to tether you to earth as his tongue invaded your mouth. You suckled it, previewing what you wanted to do with his cock later. 

He pulled away, his bright blue eyes blazing, and his jaw clenched so tight as he shrugged out of his winter coat. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was angry, but the look was desire. 

And only for you. You grew warm from the inside out.

“I can’t wait. Wanna make love to you, but I have to fuck you now.”

Bucky bent his knees and grabbed your thighs, prompting you to wrap your legs around him and hold on to him as he walked you over to your couch.

You attacked his face as you were sat down firmly on the bulge in his pants and Bucky accepted your assault, chuckling as you kissed him from his hairline, to his forehead, down his nose, each cheek, skipping over his lips to his stubbly dimpled chin and finally back to that mouth. When he kissed you again, his hands were everywhere, starting at the nape of your hair, pulling so your neck was exposed as his mouth moved down to mark you up, then trailing down to your fine lace bra cups.

Bucky palmed your full breasts, weighing them in his hands and watching your face as he twisted your nipples. You nipples tightened under his touch and you arched your back, moving and giving him a view of what was underneath your skirt. He admired your ardor, you squirming and moaning on his lap.

It was his dream come true.

“So fucking hot, Frumoasa. I’ve been craving you. All day. All week. Ever since Thanksgiving. Since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Bucky…need you.”

You grasped the lapels of his jacket as his hand traveled down your torso and as he leaned down to travel under the hem of your skirt. Your soft fingers peeled his jacket away and unbuttoned his shirt. You opened it and ran your hands down his chest, rubbing his nipples with your thumb and trailed your hand down to his happy trail and proceeded to try and undo his belt buckle.

Bucky grew hot at the warmth of your thick thighs and the way your cunt was so hot that he could feel it through his pants. 

He had to have it. 

Panting now and desperate, Bucky tugged your skirt up, flashing your bare pussy, but it was difficult to get rid of because it was still buttoned. It slipped out of his hands and he grunted in frustration.

“Ah, poor baby…” 

You leaned forward, brushing the locks of hair that had fallen into his flushed face, grazing your nipples across your chest with a sexy smile.  Bucky whimpered and you smirked at his desperation. You slowly reached behind you to your zipper, pushing your chest toward Bucky’s face. He licked his lips and pulled your bra cups down, causing your warm breasts to spill out and his hands to be drawn to them again like magnets as he watched you loosen your skirt.

When you grabbed the hem to bring it over your head, he released you, watching as the fabric moved above your crotch.

Your pussy. Fuck.

Bucky could never get enough of staring at it, the dark petals, which were spread open for him as you sat on his lap were calling his name. He licked his lips, suddenly parched.

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted, no needed, to hear Bucky’s voice right now. You reached behind you again as you unclasped your bra and suddenly you were naked on an essentially fully dressed Bucky Barnes.

It was sexy as hell. 

“I’m thinking that your pussy is a work of art, Frumoasă. It’s perfect. I’m thinking that I want to spend at least eight hours a day between your legs, make you cum over and over again, make you beg me to stop, and to start again. How I want you to taste you and make you squirt so I can swallow you down…”

You moaned and started grinding on his bulge, causing Bucky to curse.

“Damn, Baby. You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants like a teenager.”

Bucky grabbed your ass and reached between you to tease your clit, feeling how wet you were.

“Fuuuuuck, you’re so wet.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you to your knees on either side of him as he unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear just down past his ass to get his cock out. He grabbed your cheek as he stroked himself and rubbed his thick cock head in your juicy pussy.

“Fuck me Frumoasa. Slide down this dick for me.”

You brushed Bucky’s hair off his forehead again as you nodded and started to slide down his fat, hard cock. Your head lolled back on your neck as you reached the root of him.

“Oh… Bucky… Fuck….”

You could feel Bucky pounding inside you, long thick cock battering your cervix and you whined, leaning back and working your hips as Bucky fucked up into you and thumbed your clit while the other hand guided you up and down his dick. 

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were shining as he looked up at you. You knew he was close and you couldn’t take it.

He started to speak and you knew it was over.

“Frumoasă. I-I’m gonna need you to… oh holy fuckkkkkk!”

His stutter made you start to cum.

As soon as your pussy started spasming around him, Bucky started shooting his spend all over your warm walls causing you to convulse and hug his head to your chest. He clutched you to him, whimpering as he held onto you for dear life as he came.

He collapsed backwards, taking you with him as you became boneless in his arms. You rolled off of him and curled up on the couch as Bucky stood and untangled himself from his clothes.

You closed your eyes for a minute as he got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. When he finished, he kissed your forehead and gathered you up in his arms.

“You turn me on like no one else, Frumoasă. You’re it for me. I love you.”

You cuddled into him as he lay you in your bed.

“Me too, Bucky. You’re my one. I love you, too.”

Bucky kissed your forehead again, and then proceeded to move down your body.

“Good, now. I need to clock into my main occupation. Hour one of eight.…”

—-

If you like it, hit Reblog! ☺️

[thewayhouse]

'A Slight Miscommunication'

Castiel x Reader

-> Gender neutral reader -> Slightly susggestive - kissing -> Miscommunication trope -> 1.5K words -> Author's note at the end

'A Slight Miscommunication'

The rain pitter-pattered on the motel roof, thunder raging in the distance. You watched the raindrops on the window race each other to the bottom, silently rooting for one. It won. Smiling at your small achievement, you took a sip from your glass, whiskey burning your throat in a mild sensation. 

You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had been on this hunt for two weeks now and it was beginning to weigh on you all. It was some vampire sightings that Dean was positive were real, we didn’t believe him but begrudgingly went along with it due to lack of any other cases. Now Dean was starting to question whether they were real or not. He wasn’t singing along to the songs on the radio anymore, and Sam was barely touching any of his books. Cas was mostly the same, but there was no one to balance out his usual monotone behaviour, so things were starting to get drab. Even you, one who wasn’t one to give up on a case so easily, was starting to rethink that self-proclaimed title. 

“Hello”, a monotone voice from behind you spoke, making you jump in your seat and whip your head around. “Cas, you’ve gotta make more noise man,” I took a deep breath, calming down my heart from the sudden high, “you’re gonna give someone a heart attack sneaking up like that.” “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you”, he walked around and sat down on the chair opposite you, “I just wanted to talk about something that happened earlier.” “Oh?” “At the diner, with the waitress.” He said, trying to jog your memory, and it worked. Earlier, the group had gone to a local diner to get some lunch, a little break from our searching. You and Cas walked in and sat down at a booth first; Dean couldn’t find a parking spot in the carpark of the diner, and Sam wanted to make sure he got one with shade covering Baby. So the brothers drove off bickering after dropping off you and Cas. When the waitress came round to get your orders, she had said something along the lines of “So, what can I get you two love birds today?” To which Cas had said nothing, and told her that you were waiting on others. “Oooh, double dates are always fun. I’ll come back later” she’d responded. Before she left however, you corrected her “we’re just friends actually. And we’re waiting on two other friends, who are brothers, so…” She apologised and went to go serve another table. When you had looked back at Cas, he seemed off, but you couldn’t press further, Sam and Dean had arrived. “Oh, yeah, that.” you took another sip of whiskey, the ice clinking together, before you continued. “Yeah, what was that about Cas? You looked off, but I didn’t want to pry-” “No. I want to talk about you. Why did you say that to the waitress?” He looked genuinely confused, even a bit hurt. “What do you mean? I corrected her because we aren’t dating.” You looked equally as confused as him, both staring at each other. “What made you think that?” he scooched forward on his chair, the old frame creaking slightly beneath him, “of course we’re dating. We have been for months now.” “What?” “Did- did you not know?” You both sat there, staring at each other for what felt like hours, both as baffled as the other. The deafening silence finally broke at Cas’ words. “I courted you, you accepted, we’re dating. Is that not how that works with humans?” “No- no that’s how it works, I guess. But when did you court me?” you began stuttering over your words out of both bewilderment, but also out of embarrassment. Maybe flustered is the better word. Either way, you were beginning to feel a heat spread across your cheeks, one that said everything you were thinking, and had been for months now. Yes, you had had a crush on Castiel for a while now, almost a year now, longer even. Through that time, you had assumed that angels did not have those kinds of feelings. Even if they did, you didn’t think Cas was one of them; until now of course. “I have cooked you your favourite food on multiple occasions, I asked you to dance with me and you accepted, and I have defended your safety countless times - of course I would protect anyone, but it felt different with you” Castiel answered. Those things didn’t really sound like romantic things to you, in fact they’re pretty standard platonic actions, which made you press further. “Okay… but you said I accepted?” “Do you remember when I first showed you my wings?” You did remember.

He had asked if you wanted to see them, to which you had excitedly responded. Neither Sam nor Dean had seen Cas’ wings, one of the few aspects of his true form that humans were able to see in moderation without dire consequences; so naturally, you felt honoured and a little aloof with the fact that Cas let you see them and no one else. He had ushered you into the bathroom at the motel you were all staying at and locked the door so no one would walk in on the display. You remembered that he had seemed nervous to show you, but you’d assumed it was nerves relating to your safety, hoping it wouldn’t be too much for you. When he did show you, after the initial shock, he’d asked if you would clean them for him. Actually, the word he used was ‘preen’, but it was basically the same thing, right? “Yeah, I remember. You had me clean them because it was too difficult to do it yourself.” “Exactly, you preened my wings,” Castiel took a breath, shaking his head, baffled that he had to explain this to me. “Did you not know that that is a common courting method for those with wings?” He continued, “you accepting and preening my wings for me was you reciprocating the courtship.” Shuffling in his seat, he finished with “I thought it did anyway.” You sat there for a moment, taking this all in, face flushed, gripping your whiskey. “I…” unsure what to say, or how to look at Cas in the eye after hearing how oblivious you’d been, you stood up. Placing your now empty glass on the windowsill beside you, you anxiously tidied your crinkled shirt and cleared your throat. One, two, steps forward. Now standing in between Cas’ legs, you reach out and grab his tie, pulling his head upwards into a kiss. 

It was unexpected to say the least, for both of you. You don’t know why you did it, but it just felt right, and boy did Castiel’s lips feel just right too. The sweet scent of honey and whiskey filled your senses, making a deep aching sensation drip into your chest. Kissing an angel, how holy and devoted does that sound. How dirty and blasphemous. No matter, it was heaven if you’ve ever felt it. The soft lips of the angel pressing against yours in a soothing motion, nothing could compare. Nothing in your mind but him, nothing but him. The sound of Cas’ muffled surprise fluttering through your body, only making you want more, trying to drag more out of him. It wasn’t too much use though, you needed to breathe. Reluctantly you pulled back, your scattered breaths mingling with each other. You stumbled backwards slightly, letting go of his tie, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I-” Castiel had cut you off, standing up and taking a step forward. “No, don’t be,” he took your hands in his, tracing small circles on your palms with his thumbs. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” his voice was soft, gentler than it usually is. Entwining his fingers with yours, he pulls you closer, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. “Was that you… agreeing?”He glances down at your hands for a brief second before looking up again, “to this whole thing, I mean. To us… us being together.” “Well I guess it wasn’t me so much as agreeing if we were already dating,” you chuckled, “albeit without me knowing at first.” Castiel let out a sigh, letting out all the tension he didn’t realise was building within him, “I’m glad.” One of his hands made its way up to your face, carefully brushing a piece of hair behind your ear; it cupped your cheek. You leaned into Cas’ warm palm resting against your face, the feeling both foreign and familiar.

 “You know,” you began, “I’m glad you said something… I have liked you for a while.” “And you said nothing?” “No. I didn’t think angels could feel anything like that, so I just never bothered.” Castiel shook his head, almost in pity. “Oh dear,” breathed the angel, “I have a lot to teach you, Love.” 

Author's Note

Let me know if you'd like a continuation of this short, cause I honestly really enjoyed writing it.

Heyy, I hope you enjoyed! It's [technically] my first time posting something like this, I usually keep my fanfics to myself, but no more! Idrk what else to say so uh, my requests are open, and buh bye!

-> divider made by @/benkeibear

[the-offside-rule]

Jude Bellingham (Real Madrid) - My Ferrari Girl

Requested: yes

Prompt: F1 Driver!Reader x Jude Bellingham

Warnings: none to note

The Monaco Grand Prix always held a certain kind of magic, and this year was no different—except, for Y/n, it felt even more special. It was her first year with Scuderia Ferrari, and she was starting from second on the grid. With the glistening Mediterranean waters just beyond the track, it was hard not to feel the buzz of excitement. But today, there was an added layer of anticipation for her; Jude was in the paddock. This was the first time he’d made an official appearance as her boyfriend, but their relationship had been carefully kept under wraps until now. They had met in Monaco two years ago and had shared some magical moments, including sneaking off to the Champions League final in 2024 with Lando Norris. The romance between them had been slow-burning, and they’d kept it secret with only a few subtle likes and comments on social media to give fans something to speculate about.

Jude had been in her life through the highs and lows, and now, here they were, at the most prestigious race of the year, standing just feet apart but unable to make their love public... until now.

As Y/n stood with her mechanic beside her Ferrari, her hands lightly gripping the edge of the car, she discussed the race strategy. The air was thick with the anticipation of what was to come. Jude, on the other hand, stood off to the side with Alexandra, Charles Leclerc's girlfriend. Between the two Ferrari cars, they made casual small talk, discussing how stressful it would be watching the race from the hospitality suite. "Are you nervous?" Alexandra asked, glancing at Jude. His face was the picture of concentration, though a part of him wanted nothing more than to walk over to Y/N and wish her good luck in person. "Yeah." Jude admitted. "It’s going to be stressful. It’s Monaco, after all. But especially because she’s starting from second. It’s big for her."

Before he could say more, Martin Brundle appeared out of nowhere, microphone in hand. "Alexandra, how are you feeling about the race today?" Martin asked, his usual charm evident as he spoke. "And Jude, how are you finding the paddock life so far? You’ve got a real expert guiding you around with Alexandra." Jude smiled, trying to keep his cool. "It’s all been a bit overwhelming, to be honest. But I’m learning from the best." He said, glancing at Alexandra. Martin chuckled, then moved on to another question. "So, why Monaco? You’re usually busy with football. What makes this race so special for you?"

Jude’s eyes flicked toward Y/N as she adjusted her helmet, her focus on her car. A proud smile spread across his face. "I’ve always loved this race. But now," he paused, trying to collect his thoughts, "it’s especially special because my girlfriend is starting from second." Alexandra’s eyes widened in shock, and Martin’s expression mirrored hers. A long silence followed. Jude’s face immediately turned pale as he realized what he had just said. His hand shot to his mouth in a panic. "I... I mean... I didn’t mean to-"

Martin’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you’re saying your girlfriend? Who is she?" Jude took a deep breath, trying to salvage the moment. He turned and pointed toward Y/n, who was still talking to her mechanic. "That short girl in red? That’s the love of my life." Martin’s jaw dropped, and Alexandra struggled to hide a laugh. "Are you sure you want to go public with this now, Jude?" She teased. Jude let out a nervous laugh, still looking shocked. "I panicked, alright? I wasn’t ready for that... but, yeah, that’s her."

Martin turned back to Alexandra, his smile widening. "Well, I won’t bother her, but congratulations to both of you. Wishing you the best." As Martin moved on, Alexandra burst into laughter, elbowing Jude playfully. "You are in so much trouble."

"I know." Jude groaned, face red. "Y/n’s going to kill me." Sylvia, Ferrari’s PR manager, arrived just in time to rescue them. "The race is about to start. Let’s get you both to hospitality," she said, ushering them away. Before they parted ways, Jude quickly crossed the grid to Y/N, who was standing beside the car, adjusting her gloves. He gave her a brief but sweet kiss on the cheek. "Good luck." He whispered, his voice filled with affection. Y/n smiled at him, not knowing the chaos he had just caused. "Thank you." She replied, her focus still sharp.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The race was everything they expected. Intense, chaotic, and unpredictable. But in the end, it was a Ferrari 1-2 finish. Charles Leclerc took the victory, but Y/n had managed an impressive second place. The crowd erupted as the Ferrari team celebrated, but Jude couldn’t help but feel a little upset that most of the attention was on Charles. As Y/n climbed out of her car in Parc Fermé, she was greeted by cheers, but Jude didn’t mind. He walked right up to her, ignoring the cameras, and kissed her on the lips. His pride and love for her were palpable.

The two drivers disappeared into the Ferrari team area, while Jude and Alexandra stayed behind, discussing how stressful the race had been to watch. "I swear, I was about to pass out the entire time." Jude admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t blame you." Alexandra said with a smile. "But you should be proud. She was incredible." Jude nodded. "I am. More than I can explain."

As the celebrations continued, Jude stood proudly under the podium, his eyes fixed on Y/n as she was awarded her trophy. He felt a burst of pride watching her, knowing she had worked so hard to get here. After the ceremony, Y/n headed off to her media duties. She was immediately asked about the race and, as expected, was asked if it felt even more special with Jude there. She smiled and kept her answers cool. "It’s an honour to have someone like Jude supporting me. We’ve met a few times before, and it’s always great to have him here," she said, keeping it casual.

But then the journalist hit her with a curveball. "So, Jude let it slip on live broadcast today that you two have been dating for a while. What’s that all about?" Y/n’s eyes widened in confusion. "Wait, what?" The journalist pulled out his phone and showed her the clip of Jude’s accidental confession. Y/N let out a laugh, realizing what had happened. "Oh, he really did that, didn’t he?" She chuckled.

Before her next interview, she called Jude, unable to suppress her laughter. "Jude Bellingham, you just hard-launched our relationship on live TV. I can’t believe you." Jude’s voice came through the phone, full of sheepish amusement. "I panicked! You know I didn’t mean to." She smiled, looking down to the ground to avoid her PR manager tapping her watch. "Yeah, well, I’m going to have to deal with this now, aren’t I?" She teased, smiling despite herself. "Yeah, good luck, I love you, and I'm sorry." He chuckled. "Mind my trophy for me until I get back." Y/n said before hanging up and turning back to her PR manager. "Already getting you into trouble?" She asked. Y/n scoffed playfully. "That's what boyfriends are for. They're no fun without a little trouble."

[crystallinecardinal]

“The strings are wrapped around you,” or, a discussion about Truthless Recluse, Pure Vanilla, and an idea of an awakening

One of the things I’ve been hung up on ever since finishing A Game of Truth and Deceit’s story is the fact that the things Truthless Recluse says does not feel exactly in character for Pure Vanilla. I’m sure this is the point. You’re supposed to get that feeling out of hearing him, Gingerbrave even directly points it out.

So, other than the corruption, why the so sudden change? Why is he suddenly turning against everyone? And most importantly, how is he supposed to get out of it?

Or, a CRK analysis/theory of sorts regarding Beast-Yeast episode 7, as well as how episode 8 might go, split into sections below the cut.

1 - An Introduction

I will start off by saying that before this update came out, I was one of the people adamant that Pure Vanilla was not going to end up corrupted. Not because I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him, but because I couldn’t see a reason why.

For as much as Shadow Milk could break him, dig into his biggest fears and insecurities and make them appear real, there wasn’t a reason to me for him to suddenly turn against everyone on his own— not when those around him had consistently helped him, bringing him out of what might have been the worst dips of his bad mental state. Not unless Shadow Milk was able to really manipulate him into it.

Then again, I knew what Shadow Milk could do. I knew he could control the will of other cookies (seen with the faerie cookies), and disguise himself in another form (see: every time he impersonates the Light of Truth). I also knew Pure Vanilla would be vulnerable to him, both with the bad mental state, and by the fact that the first time they encountered each other, he was already struggling. The right strings being pulled could just make him snap.

And then, I saw Truthless Recluse. And I lost my mind.

So, the point of all this. I had been TERRIFIED before this update how Pure Vanilla would fall. I thought he’d have his sense of self broken, all his emotions toyed with, sure, but I wasn’t ready for a FULL CORRUPTION. Then I got to thinking: it’s been a pattern this happens, right? In the Ancient vs Beast chapters, they encounter each other, fight in some way, and the Ancient somehow loses their connection to their respective Light. They only awaken after, picking themself back up from the brink of defeat. And we already know Awakened Pure Vanilla exists, so that leaves the question: how do you help him? How does he come back from where he is now? How does he awaken if he’s already been “defeated?”

That’s what I’m here to discuss.

2 - The Spider-Man meme problem

So! Fortune Teller. That guy.

Almost everyone I saw took one look at him in the trailers and KNEW he was Pure Vanilla. Had to be. The voice was the same, appearance the same, motifs the same, the character design was a pretty big giveaway. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, yknow. It’s probably a duck.

And that presumption was right! Fortune Teller is Truthless Recluse, and by extension, Pure Vanilla.

How can that happen, though? If Pure Vanilla talks directly to Fortune Teller, how can they be the same? Luckily, the game decides to answer this question on its own!

So, if this is a space the future of the past (the present) and the future of the present (just the future) can both exist… that means Fortune Teller, and by extension, Truthless Recluse, are likely from the future. Not only because we’ve seen PV walking around in the present, but because we KNOW how TR talks about PV like he’s dead, as well as because of a fun little quote from Shadow Milk!

“In the end, you will become me.”

This is what I’m going to be building the rest of this off of. Stick with me here.

3 - What’s that, puppet boy??

Lies. Manipulation. Deceit.

These are the things Shadow Milk lives for. But any good snake, any good spider weaving a web, knows that the best lies have a hint of truth to them. This is what I intend to dissect.

It feels... a bit strange to think that Pure Vanilla could become someone like Shadow Milk. And yet, the signs are already there. He isn't honest with himself, tells white lies in the hopes that it may make someone feel better rather than the cruel truth, and his mental state is already in a horrid place. Of course, none of these are particularly bad things, they're human, and I can't blame him for any of it. But they're also all undeniably things that could lead him to snapping. What's the point doubt is all that's left? What's the point that he delves into the comfort of the lie of fantasy? What's the point that reality is too much agony to bear? Is that not how the Fount of Knowledge became the Master of Deceit, finding that cookies enjoyed the sweet lie more than the cruel truth?

“In the end, you will become me.”

And so, he just might.

So, consider. If present and future can both at once in Shadow Milk's domain, if Fortune Teller is not merely an illusion, then who's to say Truthless Recluse isn't who Pure Vanilla is destined to become?

The best lies have a shred of truth. This is our (hypothetical) truth. If nothing changes, if Pure Vanilla falls to Shadow Milk's games, lets himself be broken, plays the role he's had laid out for him ever since he was young (once again, if we choose to take that as truth and not an illusion), then his fate is sealed.

"Despair follows in your footsteps... A river lies on your path. Cross it, and you will face unfathomable dread. Turn back... Turn back before it is too late. Turn back before the cold flames of doubt swallow you whole."

That river is fast approaching, if it hasn’t already.

4 - Finding truth, breaking strings

Let's circle back to one of my first points.

"Then I got to thinking: it’s been a pattern this happens, right? In the Ancient vs Beast chapters, they encounter each other, fight in some way, and the Ancient somehow loses their connection to their respective Light. They only awaken after, picking themself back up from the brink of defeat. And we already know Awakened Pure Vanilla exists, so that leaves the question: how do you help him? How does he come back from where he is now? How does he awaken if he’s already been ‘defeated?’"

Is episode seven not still following the same formula, yet iterating on it in its own unique way? Pure Vanilla comes directly into contact with Shadow Milk, and tries to defend himself the most he can. However, he's a lot more vulnerable than the others this time around— after all, lies and truth cannot exist without the other. They're not entirely opposites. After having his sense of self shattered, Pure Vanilla falls from the Spire. Somewhere, he loses his connection to his Light of Truth. Enter: Truthless Recluse.

We know Pure Vanilla will eventually be awakened (see: dev commentary), so how does he leave the state he's in? How do you come back from falling so far?

This is where our "Truthless Recluse is a future version of Pure Vanilla" idea comes in handy! To put it simply: he hasn't become him yet. Not in reality. The present Pure Vanilla has fallen somewhere deep, deep down, into the darkest abyss... And has yet to come back. It sets a perfect scene to trick those closest to Pure Vanilla to believe the lie wrapped in truth of his ‘death,’ doesn't it?

It also solves our characterization problem from the very beginning of this post. I never said he immediately becomes Truthless Recluse. Given that in this interpretation, TR is what PV will eventually become, it provides a reason for Truthless Recluse to say the things he does, and act the way he does. Maybe Pure Vanilla wouldn’t have said or done those things, but to Truthless Recluse, that part of himself has long been dead.

So. Where does Pure Vanilla find his truth?

It could be a lot of things. However, one of the main things I've seen reiterated is just how much Shadow Milk toys with the mind. Right now, Pure Vanilla likely believes his entire life is a lie. Not once has he had free will. Since birth, he has been a marionette on strings, a plaything for a being beyond everything he ever knew. Every action, every decision, it was just part of an Oscar-worthy performance. Everything he may have once defined as himself is null.

And even worse: there's no one to drag him out of it this time. White Lily is gone, off on her own mission. Gingerbrave and his friends have Truthless Recluse to deal with. The Light of Truth is silent. Everyone, everything he may have depended on isn't there. It's just him, the Other-Realm, and eyes that have been watching for his entire lifetime.

To get out, he has to break the strings. Just as he once awoke from his prison when he needed to confront his past, he can do it again. But this time, it isn't going to be while he hides under another identity, it isn’t going to be while telling himself a lie. Outsmart the snake, remember, remember, remember. Hold onto the love, the care, the things that are true. No amount of deceit can change how he once felt. They say the heart is true. Maybe that's the key out.

To put it more simply: no matter what it ends up being that causes it, he needs to realize himself that he is in charge of his own destiny. The truth of the question "who am I" is "whoever you want to be." It isn't an question that can be answered by someone else. You only become fully truthless, only fully wall yourself away from everyone if you choose to do so. It isn't fate.

And so, in the end, I think Pure Vanilla will awaken. By proxy, if my entire idea here were to be true, Truthless Recluse would cease to exist. Paradoxes are funny that way. There's no way for that ending to exist if it's no longer the future that lies ahead.

5 - A conclusion

I have absolutely no clue what's coming in episode eight. I'll say that upfront. I have no clue, and it terrifies me. I love Pure Vanilla, I want him to make it out of this, but I know he won't make it out unscathed. The tragedy could stay, it could just be for this episode, it's unclear. We just have to wait until episode eight goes live.

Regardless, I want him to struggle. I don't think it makes sense for him to get out of this easily. Not when he considers himself pathetic, not when he can't trust the voice of the Light of Truth, not when he's been questioning himself. Let that doubt sink into him. Let him rebuild himself, piece by shattered piece. It makes for an emotional story, and makes me like Pure Vanilla even more as a character. Maybe that's just the Omori fan in me, but I love delves into characters' minds like that.

It may not be anything like what I've discussed here, but I'm very excited to see what Devsisters does. This is all I'm going to be thinking about until then.

[milkb0nny]

Broken Into Pieces - 11:56 pm

... Is Dean powerful enough to save you?

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader ; Chapter 1

Summary: Sam and Dean worked on a pretty huge case - a few werewolves which had taken at least seven lives and the numbers could only increase. On their research in a night club they come across a group of men who were willing to give out recent stories. But Dean couldn’t help but notice how a woman was dragged into the staff room, and later he found horrifying footage. He questioned whether humans were worth saving, and so the case became a mission to save you.

Note: Do NOT read if any of the content tags trigger you! Because I‘m a passionate angst writer, I had to take the risk and create this story. I plan on making this a multiple chapter story. Comment to be tagged <3

Content: MDNI +18!, no use of y/n, alcohol, drugging, s/a, violence, rap3, no consent, sexual content, angst, degrading, bullying, no real comfort

Word count: ~1.6k

Wanna be tagged? ~ leave a comment

The beats thrilled through the club, loud music pulsating through the speakers and setting a lighthearted vibe. Among the many dancing bodies were Sam and Dean - the Winchester brothers. They were entangled in a conversation with four college students, drinking beer and chatting about life.

Because Sam could relate to this life, he was easily leading the conversation and slowly gathering valuable information for their current case. The men were drunk, spilling whatever they knew, openly discussing things with Sam. Meanwhile, Dean looked around, not finding his place in college life at all; he wasn’t that extroverted, and the fancy nightlife didn’t charm him. He preferred cozy bars, pretty bartenders, and old-school music.

And he didn’t bother to chit-chat about things that didn’t matter - he wanted to catch the werewolves and be done with it.

“There,” one of the men mumbled to his friend, peeking behind Dean and Sam.

The other one wiped his hand over his face, biting his bottom lip as he contemplated his next move. Dean furrowed his brows, looking back in confusion.

There stood a young woman, shakily scattering flyers, placing them on each standing table, while everyone else just looked at her with disgust. She gave off such an eerie vibe, which made Dean wonder what was wrong with her.

That nervous student was you, your body aching terribly as you handed out the missing-person flyers. Originally, you hadn’t wanted to come here, knowing your chances were low, but the missing people clawed at your heart, and you simply wanted to help.

Because no one else helped.

Ever.

Dean turned back, taking a sip of his beer, listening to their conversation.

The oldest student knocked twice on the counter, sluggishly leaving the table as his companion followed him. They headed towards you, a cheesy grin on their faces.

Now Sam had only two people to interrogate.

“Where are they going?” Dean asked, trying not to sound too serious.

The two students laughed cheekily. “Greeting a little friend of ours. She’s a small celebrity in town,” they said with cocky voices.

Sam brushed off the topic, giving Dean a confused look.

Why was he being so suspicious?

But to Dean, it was evident that those people weren’t friendly, and that they had evil intentions - and this woman, you, was about to deal with it. The music changed, becoming louder and rougher, making it difficult for Sam to converse with the other students.

But faintly, almost like a whisper, there were silent cries, barely reaching Dean’s ears. Sounds like those had always been warning signs to him, and he decided to investigate. Dean excused himself, leaving his half-empty glass next to Sam’s.

Dean followed the strange noises until he reached a hallway, which was also packed with people. He squeezed through them, the voice growing clearer as he stepped closer.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of you - your wrist wrapped tightly in a man’s hand, your expression tired and fearful. You resisted, not wanting to follow the two men, not wanting to go into that room, not wanting to feel that pain again.

But it was too late. When Dean reached the staff-only door, you had already been dragged inside, and the door was locked; keeping anyone else out. Dean cursed, violently shaking the door, but soon security appeared, questioning what he was doing.

“There’s a woman trapped in there!” he shouted, but the security guards only shrugged.

His eyes widened… this couldn’t be.

Why on earth weren’t they doing anything?!

“That’s a staff-only area. Whoever’s in there or not doesn’t concern you. None of your business,” the guards said, pulling Dean away from the door.

Shit. Dean was helpless, and breaking in would ruin their investigation with the whole city knowing a lunatic had broken into a staff-only area without a reason. Frustrated, Dean returned to the table where Sam was exchanging contact information with the other students.

“Sammy, we’re going home,” Dean muttered in frustration.

Sam shook his head. “No, what’s gotten into you? We just got here!”

The younger Winchester missed this life, and he wanted to stay a little longer.

And it annoyed Dean.

This… whatever Dean found out… was urgent.

“Then enjoy your apple pie life. I’m driving home,” Dean snapped, his bad mood evident.

He left, giving Sam no chance to reply or stop him. Why was Dean acting so strange?

He hadn’t mentioned anything weird and gave Sam no reason for his upset. Sam could only assume it was a mood swing, maybe his fear of losing Sam again to college life.

But little did Sam know, Dean was about to uncover the most disgusting truth he had ever seen.

…

Dean sat at the motel desk after taking a hot shower to wash away his worries, then opened his laptop. There had to be some clues.

There had to be an entry of you on the college website or… somewhere.

He skipped through countless websites, through sketchy links, through weird blog entries. The end wasn’t close, he began to feel frustration build up.

And then… he found a MySpace link - “Uni Trashbin.”

He clicked on it.

The MySpace account seemed normal. It was feminine, soft, and vibrantly decorated, with blog entries of everyday situations, music recommendations - something so typical. To Dean, this was too clean to be true, and the username itself already had a dark undertone.

He skipped through the entries.

And then, he found a single link leading to a crappy programmed website which contained broken video data. Dean had an idea, but he did not know it would be that bad. When he restored them, which was quite easy, he clicked on the oldest clip.

…

The video clip began playing…

Dean’s eyes burned red, and the floodgates broke. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he sat frozen, staring at the screen. His face was set in a stern, unreadable expression, but his trembling hands showed his anger.

The room was eerily quiet, the faint sounds from the video filling the void - cries of pain, skin slapping against skin, desperate pleas of "No," and "Please“ and “help me." It was relentless, a nightmare in motion.

Dean didn’t hear the door creak open. He didn’t notice Sam walk in until his younger brother froze, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Dean… what the hell are you watching?” Sam’s voice cracked, the shock evident as he took a step closer.

Dean didn’t answer. His gaze remained locked on the screen, his tears now falling freely. Sam hesitated, torn between anger and worry. When he stepped closer and saw the tears on Dean’s face, his own frustration melted into horror. Dean was not watching this out of enjoyment.

Then Sam saw it more closely - the video. His stomach churned as the realization hit him like a heavy arrow.

“She’s the ‘small celebrity,’” Dean whispered, his voice hollow and lifeless. “And I saw them drag her into that room.”

Sam’s breath hitched. “Dean…” he tried, his voice gentle, as if afraid that even speaking too loudly would shatter what little control his brother had left. But what could he possibly say to make this better?

Dean clenched his jaw and closed the video with a trembling hand. His fingers hovered over the mouse as he scrolled up, exposing a list of other videos. There were at least eight of them. His blood ran cold as he saw the most recent upload.

The timestamp read today - 11:56 pm.

The pit in his stomach deepened. “It’s from tonight,” Dean muttered, his voice cracking. “Tonight, Sam. When we were there. When I could’ve…” His words faltered, strangled by guilt.

Sam sank into the chair next to him, horrified and speechless. He didn’t want to look, but morbid curiosity rooted him to the spot. He realized what that timestamp meant - and what it implied.

The video had only been uploaded minutes ago.

Dean’s face crumpled. He gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. “She’s… it’s over now, Sam,” he choked out. “They’re done with her. And I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

Sam couldn’t find the words. The screen’s glow illuminated Dean’s broken expression as the weight of his inaction pressed down on him. For all their strength, for all their heroism, they had failed.

In the most recent video… the one from today… there were no pleas, no desperate movements. Just a hollow, chilling emptiness in you. You didn’t struggle, didn’t cry, didn’t flinch, even when they struck you to provoke a reaction. You simply laid there, lifeless.

And that broke the brothers.

The way you had surrendered, accepted the cruel fate of being a mere object - it tore at their hearts.

“We have to do something,” Dean’s voice cracked as he pleaded, his fists clenched. “That’s not life. That’s hell. Pure, damn hell!”

“How are we even going to find her?” Sam asked, snapping the laptop shut to avoid the haunting image of your misery. “The college is massive. We’ve got nothing to go on.”

Dean stood abruptly, grabbing the car keys with a determined fire in his eyes. “She was handing out flyers earlier. There’s gotta be something… some kind of contact info, a clue on one of them.” He threw his leather jacket over his shoulders in a rush.

Sam hesitated. “Dean, we can’t just go after people. They’re humans! You know that’s not what we do.”

Dean shot him a sharp, furious look. “Humans? What part of what they’re doing is human?! You think they deserve to walk free? No, Sammy. I sure as hell can, and I will.”

There was no stopping him now. Sam let out a frustrated breath but followed his brother to the Impala, silently bracing himself for what was to come.

…

And you… You walked home on trembling legs, your body battered, your mind lost.

The cold night air wrapped around you like a comfort. The coldness made you feel a tiny bit cleaner. But even the chill could only do so much to erase the filth you felt, both inside and out.

Taglist: @yulianie 🤍

[solarissun]

I love how an almost 2 minute trailer of my favorite show comes out and the first thing I post is the sex scene…

Okay in all seriousness i’m FREAKING out so i’m gonna rant.

• I’m so glad Maddie convinced Simon she was real and not a delusion. ALSO, now all of the characters are in on the mystery??? I’m screaming. How TF did Maddie convince him after all that BS???

• I still have so many questions. Like, why and who was CHOKING Xavier??? Why is he always catching Ls 😭😭

• We get to see Wally’s death???? So hey.. i wasn’t ready for that…! I wonder if we’ll see Rhonda and Charley’s as well?

• In some of the trailer clips Wally and Simon are in the same room. I actually really wanna see them communicate somehow. I’d love to see their dynamic. (mostly because Simon is obviously gonna be pissed off)

• I’m so sure Mr. Martin killed Janet and maybe some of the other ghosts. He is so shady there’s NO way it was an accident.

• Is Maddie going to get her body back?? If she does, there’s no way she can be with Wally 🙁. At first i thought the kiss in the teaser was just heat of the moment but now they’re getting FREAKY???? (i’m not complaining at all). Also we finally get to see Wally out of those crazy ass sweats. Thank the lord 🙏🙏🙏

• I know she literally stole Maddie’s body but I kind of feel bad for Janet…

(i think i should make a side blog since 99% of my followers are here for josh hutcherson and not my crazy rants… sorry!)

[loganslowdown4]

‘I thought I was your hero’

‘You are!’

Incoming Long Roman Theory…

❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍

Rewatching POF and Roman’s struggle with questioning what cThomas really believes based on what Janus implied made me realize something about how we look at the word ‘HERO’ in Roman’s vocabulary. I don’t think Roman has ever meant ‘hero’ in the swashbuckling, saving people, fighting villains, heroic sense (even though he acts like it and I’m sure casts himself that way in the imagination). WHAT HE ACTUALLY MEANS when Roman asked if he is a HERO, is if he is still the FACE or embodiment of how Thomas presents himself as a ‘hero’ in real life: aka a morally upstanding person.

In POF, Patton and Roman discuss why we have morals and how we use them to do good in the world. It is important to note that this episode was mainly a discussion between Patton and Roman for a reason: because if Patton is the moral BRAIN behind all Thomas’ decisions, then Roman is the FACE of all the moral decisions Patton makes. He follows Patton’s lead and acts as the ‘hero’ (and this is what the ego really does). So as the ‘FACE’ of Thomas, any actions taken means Roman is the one getting all the praise first hand, but is also taking the brunt of the criticisms too. For example, when Thomas went to that musical audition and forgot the words to the music, Roman hid. He was a ‘bruised ego’, getting the brunt of the criticism (or what he thought was worse than actually was). Roman has called himself a knight, a warrior, and a big reason why is that he faces all ‘battles’ of Thomas’ head on. It’s not just for the charming fairytale fanciful aesthetic (maybe it started that way). But I believe Roman’s character has developed into this complexity.

Roman’s role is to protect Thomas not only from objective criticisms, but also from failures of a moral decision. It explains why it was Roman who ultimately made the call to go to the wedding and not the callback. Even though Patton lost that debate in the courtroom, Roman knew that the morally correct decision was always to go support Thomas’ friends. He stood up and was the hero Patton and Thomas needed, despite any other disagreements or backlash. He knew that there was risk in this decision either way and it took a lot of strength to make that choice.

Here, Roman, saying that it was his fault for making the decision difficult to go to the wedding or callback, shows his willingness to take the brunt of any criticism, ultimately being the hero. He’s a drama king for real, but Thomas knew it wasn’t Roman’s fault for making the decision hard or even making the decision in the first place, and said so. Still, Roman tries because if it helps makes Thomas feel better, he’s willing to do it.

Another thing I need to point out: Roman getting upset when Patton said when doing anything charitable or morally correct, you can’t take ANYTHING away from it, including self-satisfaction or PRIDE. Roman is literally Thomas’ PRIDE and EGO. Denying Roman his pride, when he is constantly working to keep all of them safe from criticism, means he’s not allowed to be at all satified by the GOOD MORAL WORK he does do. It’s no wonder it felt unfair to him.

Finally, when Janus criticized the moral standard that Patton and Roman are trying to have Thomas live up to, Roman was personally offended. He has been doing his best to show the world that Thomas is a good person (which he is).

Here, when Roman is questioning how selfish Thomas will be before he feels ‘satisfied’ he says ‘you’ll have us believe that that time will never come’ which means that doing ANYTHING morally good, even the bare minimum, will deserve a reward, self-satifaction and more selfish time spent. This change in moral trajectory goes against what Roman has worked so hard for, following Patton’s lead and making those sacrifices. At the end, Patton’s main goal was changed to keep Thomas happy, which looked like he basically gave up and switched allegiance to Janus’ new plan. Does this mean Janus is the new ‘face’ of how Thomas presents himself and not Roman? THIS is why Roman left like he did; it felt like a betrayal.

There’s a lot unresolved and a lot that Thomas has to work out with Roman. But ultimately, Roman will always be a hero. He’ll be Thomas’ hero. Because he’s the one that makes Thomas a hero to everyone else. Time will tell and we shall see!

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

The Copollogism Essays - Part 4: Leo's Questions/Seeing Commodus Again

THE RETURN OF THE ALDER ! ! ! ! !

it's copollo time yo

we're doing two different scenes so buckle up buttercups!!

Leo's Questions

“So what’s with you and the emperor?” Leo asked me, his feet pedaling merrily along as if the exertion didn’t bother him at all. I wiped my brow. “I don’t know what you mean.” “C’mon, man. At dinner, when Meg started shouting about commodes? You ran straight to the bathroom and spewed.” “I did not spew. It was more like heaving.” “Ever since, you’ve been awfully quiet.” - Chapter 20, The Dark Prophecy

I really want to bring attention to how Leo, in his own roundabout way, tries to find out why Commodus upset Apollo so much <3 These two have a LOT in common, so I think it's fascinating how Leo is the one to reach out and give Apollo an opportunity to talk about what happened.

"Ever since, you've been awfully quiet." Leo says, meaning he notices what is normal for Apollo, and what isn't. And he tries to help!

Don't forget that this is not the first time Leo's met Apollo either - the first time, Apollo suggested killing him (and Hazel and Frank). Now, we the ToA fandom know that was very likely a bluff, but Leo doesn't!

And yet, he still shows compassion, in his very Leo-like way <3

Because let's also remember - Apollo is the reason Leo is alive.

Apollo gave Leo the Curse of Delos, allowing him to survive the fight with Gaea and rescue Calypso.

Apollo and Leo can be something so personal <3

Murdering Commodus was traumatic for Apollo. Something that can help with trauma is talking about it with others. Apollo has with Jo, and now he discusses it with Leo and Meg.

These three - Jo, Leo, Meg - are the ONLY ONES in the ENTIRE SERIES to hear from Apollo himself what went down between him and Commodus. As far as we know, they don't tell anybody else either. It's only them.

“Commodus blames me for his death,” I said. “Why?” Meg asked. “Probably because I killed him.” “Ah.” Leo nodded sagely. “That would do it.”

WHEEZE Leo you and Apollo are MEANT to be friends. humor to lighten the mood? instant friendship, go commit arson together <3

I managed to tell them the story. It wasn’t easy. As I stared ahead of us, I imagined the body of Commodus floating just below the surface of the canal, ready to rise from the icy green depths and accuse me of treachery. You. Blessed. Me.

...and there's the water-related PTSD. ouch.

When I was done with the story, Leo and Meg remained silent. Neither of them screamed Murderer! Neither of them looked me in the eye, either.

Fair reaction, all things considered. I myself wouldn't know quite what to say or do if someone I knew told me how they had no choice but to kill their lover in cold-blood.

“That’s rough, man,” Leo said at last. “But it sounds like Emperor Toilet needed to go.”

LEO !! VALIDATING !! APOLLO'S !! ACTIONS !!

THIS IS GOOD BECAUSE APOLLO NEEDS FRIENDS AND FRIENDS WHO TELL HIM WHEN HE DID THE RIGHT THING !!

IMPORTANT FOR HEALTHY COMMUNICATION !!

THEY ARE FRIENDS YOUR HONOR !!

Meg made a sound like a cat’s sneeze. “It’s Commodus. He’s handsome, by the way.” I glanced back. “You’ve met him?”

don't sound so eager Apollo lmao i'm joking

“Once,” she said. “In New York. He visited my stepfather.” “Nero,” I urged. “Call him Nero.” “Yeah.” Red blotches appeared on her cheeks. “Commodus was handsome.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s also vainglorious, puffed up, egotistical—” “So he’s like your competition, then?” Leo asked. “Oh, shut up.”

*cackling*

let's look at this real quick.

firstly, Meg 100% thinks Commodus is hot.

secondly, Apollo's immediate reaction to finding that out is to point out all of Commodus's flaws, meaning he knows just how flawed Commodus is.

thirdly, Leo teasingly points out his hypocrisy, and all Apollo does in response is "Oh, shut up."

delightful little exchange, with a valuable piece of information in there to boot!

“One thing I don’t get,” Leo said. “Why Commodus? I mean, if this Triumvirate is the three biggest and baddest emperors, the Roman supervillain dream team…Nero makes sense. But Commode Man? Why not some eviler, more famous guy, like Murderous Maximus or Attila the Hun?” “Attila the Hun was not a Roman emperor,” I said. “As for Murderous Maximus…well, that’s actually a good name, but not a real emperor. As for why Commodus is part of the Triumvirate—” “They think he’s weak,” Meg said.

we're going to come back to this.

She kept her gaze on our wake, as if she saw her own assortment of faces below the surface. “You know this how?” I asked. “My step—Nero told me. Him and the third one, the emperor in the west, they wanted Commodus between them.”

I wonder what that discussion was like.

Nero: hey uncle for this to work we need someone between us. to keep us from trying to stab each other to death Caesar-style.

Caligula: a triumvirate. excellent. absolutely nothing can go wrong with a triumvirate of the evilest, baddest, most notorious emperors of all time! But who-?

Commodus, exploding out of the nearest river, in a manic rage, screaming for bloodlust:

APOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nero & Caligula, evilly nodding: oh yeah. that one. that one would do juuuust fiiiine.

in all seriousness though, it really does sound like Nero and Caligula were alive first, and Commodus was added later! Caligula was the first to die out of these three, with Nero being the second - that is, if he killed himself in the RRverse same as historical him. He very well could have already made himself a pseudo-god and faked his death...

Caligula, though, was murdered by his own guard, so he had to have been resurrected - perhaps at Nero's behest? Ooo! Perhaps Nero thought he could get Caligula indebted to him, but underestimated just how...uh...batshit his uncle is, and quickly grew to fear him?!?!

perhaps then leading to a proposition of a Triumvirate, and looking back at the past emperors of Rome...they found Commodus.

I have no idea how they could have found out about Apollo & Commodus until Commodus himself told them, so here's another theory:

Nero and Caligula found Commodus in the Underworld, perhaps trying to track down which emperor to join their Triumvirate.

Now, I have a personal headcanon about how Commodus stayed out of the Fields of Punishment. I even wrote a fic about it.

So this is all STRICTLY headcanon! We are in the thumbtacks and strings zone. Tinfoil hats for everyone!!

In any case, they manage to find Commodus in limbo, and upon hearing his MANY greviences with Apollo, decide he's the one.

“So Nero and the dude in the west,” Leo said, “they want Commodus to be a buffer between them. Monkey in the middle.” Meg rubbed her nose. “Yeah. Nero told me….He said Commodus was like his Peaches. A vicious pet. But controllable.”

what an interesting why to describe your coworker...hmm.

really makes you think on how Nero, at least, sees Commodus. We'll talk more on Caligula and Commodus in The Tyrant's Tomb.

Nero seems to see Commodus as a tool to use, just like he does with everyone. It's especially interesting how he specifically uses animal metaphors to describe Commodus - even Leo indirectly contributes to this image of Commodus!

A monkey is commonly seen as a wild creature. Then we have Peaches, a very wild nature spirit.

Both of these individuals can be vicious, as Nero said. When provoked.

You know what that reminds me of?

Don't poke the lion.

curious how it's the lion Commodus wraps himself in, and yet he is perceived as this animal that's been brought to heel. A pet, as Meg explains. A predator, even, to draw out and frighten the Triumvirate's chosen prey...

Controlled, with the promise of revenge.

and yet, we must ask him and ourselves - what will happen after that revenge? when his use against Apollo has run out?

nothing good, that's for sure; for the world, and no doubt for Commodus himself.

against even one of the other two emperors, he is the weakest. his only purpose was to be a buffer between them.

to them, Commodus is no threat. not at all.

Seeing Commodus Again

I peeked over the edge of the channel and was immediately sorry I did. Commodus was right there. - Chapter 22, The Dark Prophecy

AN EXCELLENT START 10/10 HILARIOUS

Lester sure did have his "Shit, it's my ex!" moment!

Thank the gods, we had crossed slightly behind his throne, so neither he nor his Germani guards saw me. My least favorite Cornhusker, Lityerses, knelt before the emperor, facing my direction, but his head was lowered. I ducked back below the edge before he could spot me. I gestured to my friends: Quiet. Yikes. We’re going to die. Or something to that effect. They seemed to get the message. Shivering miserably, I pressed against the wall and listened to the conversation going on just above us. “—part of the plan, sire,” Lityerses was saying. “We know where the Waystation is now.” Commodus grunted. “Yes, yes. Old Union Station. But Cleander searched that place several times before and found nothing.”

pardon me but HISTORY NUT TIME!

Cleander was the name of Commodus's chief advisor! Well, his second chief advisor, who may have had a hand in assassinating the first one, who at the time had been a close friend of Commodus.

interesting implication that Commodus isn't aware of that. furthermore, it's interesting that Cleander (if it's the same guy) was allowed to return to work despite his MASSIVE FAILURES during his time in Rome.

like. look up Commodus, find his wiki page, find Cleander, click on the link, read about him. absolute DINGUS. look Commodus 100% had a hand in the downfall of Rome, mainly because he shuffled his duties off to other (untrustworthy) people, but BY GOD CLEANDER...CLEANDER WAS A BIG PART OF IT.

he had a MOB ready to tear him apart, and it scared it so much he went running to Commodus to save him. if i remember correctly, Commodus quit literally threw him to the wolves. i might be wrong on that so READ UP on Cleander please and roll your eyes at how abysmally he failed.

good lord how embarrassing.

perhaps he started at the VERY bottom of the ladder. and since Commodus goes through right-hand men VERY quickly, that's how he ended up as chief advisor once again.

before being killed, of course. by our man Lityerses, Reaper of Men.

“The Waystation is there,” Lityerses insisted. “The tracking devices I planted on the griffins worked perfectly. The place must be protected by some sort of magic, but it won’t stand up to a fleet of blemmyae bulldozers.” My heart climbed above water level, which put it somewhere between my ears. I dared not look at my friends. I had failed once again. I had unwittingly betrayed the location of our safe haven. Commodus sighed. “Fine. Yes. But I want Apollo captured and brought to me in chains! The naming ceremony is tomorrow. Our dress rehearsal is, like, right now. When can you have the Waystation destroyed?” Lityerses hesitated. “We need to scout the defenses. And gather our forces. Two days?” “TWO DAYS? I’m not asking you to cross the Alps! I want it to happen now!” “Tomorrow, then, at the latest, sire,” said Lityerses. “Definitely by tomorrow.” “Hmph. I’m beginning to wonder about you, son of Midas. If you don’t deliver—”

why in chains specifically commodus- i'm sorry i'll see myself out

another very interesting relationship to discuss is between Commodus and Lityerses.

there's some type of stepdad-stepson thing going on here, faintly. it's not focused on much, but reading between the lines (and knowing what we know about Lityerses and Midas) we can conclude that Lityerses, at least, sees Commodus as a surrogate father-figure.

unfortunately, he may be even worse than Midas rip

hmm...hrm...

you know...this makes me wonder. is Commodus perhaps reflecting Marcus Aurelius's parenting style, or could he be projecting what he thought he felt from his father's rebukes and lectures? putting these unreasonable expectations onto another in an effort to make himself feel powerful and in control?

much to chew on here. hrm hrm hrm...

get some damn therapy Commodus.

“Incursion at the front gates!” Lityerses growled. “I will deal with this, sire. Never fear. Guards, with me!” Heavy footsteps faded into the distance. I glanced at Meg and Leo, who were both giving me the same silent question: What the Hades? I had not ordered an incursion at the front gates. I hadn’t even activated the iron manacle on my ankle. I didn’t know who would be so foolish as to launch a frontal assault on this underground palace, but Britomartis had promised to look for the Hunters of Artemis. It occurred to me that this was the sort of diversionary tactic they might arrange if they were trying to distract Commodus’s security forces from our presence. Could we be so lucky? Probably not. More likely, some magazine-subscription salesman had rung the emperor’s doorbell and was about to get a very hostile reception. I risked another peek over the edge of the canal. Commodus was alone now with just one guard. Perhaps we could take him—three on two? Except that we were all about to pass out from hypothermia, Meg probably had some broken ribs, and my own powers were unpredictable at best. On the opposing team, we had a trained barbarian killer and a semi-divine emperor with a well-deserved reputation for superhuman strength. I decided to stay put.

a very wise decision, Apollo. Marcus Aurelius would be proud.

Commodus glanced at his bodyguard. “Alaric.” “Lord?” “I think your time is approaching. I grow impatient with my prefect. How long has Lityerses had this job?” “About a day, my lord.” “Seems like forever!” Commodus pounded his fist on his armrest. “As soon as he’s dealt with this incursion, I want you to kill him."

see what i mean by 'going through prefects real fast'? Lityerses dodged a bullet.

“Yes, lord.” “I want you to wipe out the Waystation tomorrow morning at the latest. Can you do that?” “Of course, lord.” “Good! We’ll have the naming ceremony immediately afterward in the colosseum.” “Stadium, my lord.”

fun fact I've been to the Colts Stadium for a high school trip.

“Same difference! And the Cave of Prophecy? Is it secure?” My spine took a jolt of electricity so strong I wondered if Commodus kept electric eels in the channel. “I have followed your orders, sire,” Alaric said. “The beasts are in place. The entrance is well guarded. None shall gain access.” “Lovely!” Commodus jumped to his feet. “Now let’s go try on our racing outfits for the dress rehearsal, shall we? I can’t wait to remake this city in my own image!”

Commodus tries on his racing clothes...meaning he puts meticulous detail and attention into his visage...he appears exactly as he wants to appear...

I waited until the sound of their footsteps receded. I peeked over and saw no one in the room. “Now,” I said. We dragged ourselves out of the canal and stood dripping and shivering in front of the golden throne. I could still smell the scent of Commodus’s favorite body oil—a mix of cardamom and cinnamon.

APOLLO STILL REMEMBERS THE SCENT OF COMMODUS'S FAVORITE BODY OIL DO I NEED TO SAY ANYTHING MORE

anywho this is why i'm obsessed with giving Commodus those SPECIFIC scents in my fics. always.

though also remember he has roses in his bathwater...(does he still, you think? hmm...)

hey. cardamom symbolizes love, health, and prosperity. cinnamon symbolizes protection, prosperity, and health.

...Commodus. you aren't fooling us.

I can easily interpret this. *cracks knuckles*

you see, the protection part is important because Commodus is trying hard to not only kill, but sacrifice Apollo - doing so will grant him ultimate power, as per Trophonius's prophecy. Thus, granting him protection - from Apollo, and from the other emperors.

Health and prosperity is simple - that's part of what Commodus wants. He wants to be immortal, eternally handsome and hale. He wants to reign in a kingdom of his own, with entertainment to spare.

but even if he manages to get all of that...it won't be enough. because we all know that deep down, what he desires - nay, covets the most...is love.

how intriguing. to gain the power he wants, he must quite literally sacrifice the only person he ever loved.

tragic. yaoi.

[majaloveschris]

However, I don't know if leaking the contract would be bad for both of them. I think most people would be happier if this turned out to be PR rather than him being married to someone like her. And I mean her and her friends' personalities. You know the racist, pedo, and Nazi stuff. Maybe some people would be angry because he's lied, but I think most of us probably would be relieved he wasn't actually in love with someone like Alba. //

Logic anon coming in, people have to understand the fandom although it feels big is very small especially compared to the rest of the world. The general public doesn’t care about these two and many think she looks like she’s his daughter. Now, If this fandom were like the fandoms with “names” ie the Swifties, Belibers, etc This shitshow would have exploded publicly to the point the truth would have came out and there’d be no debate. The world would be aware of her and her friends and many would probably defend her, it would be team pr vs real on a bigger level. But technically something similar yet small did happen….. remember the “crazy” fan article in the beginning because the fandom was calling out the bs.

This stunt wasn’t for the fans, but I assume they thought this fandom would jump whenever Chris said to….wrong. The fandom went into detective mode so much to the point they kept having to keep up with the lies that so many called out. Remember all the holes in the cheese they tried to fill. If it were real, why the need to do that.

But yeah the point for whatever reason was to make this appear legit to the world, not this fandom. The fandom got involved because of how stupid things got. Had Chris and team learned that he had a MO that ONLY his fandom was aware of and had her and her little racist friends not trolled, things might be different.

Too much has happened for me to assume any of this is legit unless Chris has sincerely lost his mind, is going through a midlife crises or willingly thought being married might help his career/image? Idk 🤷‍♀️

In terms of said contract being leaked, that would be awesome for the fandom and possibly those who think he’s a red pill fool, but for the overall public…. I don’t think so. He’d be a liar and how could anyone trust someone who lied about being married, but again it’s Hollywood and business so who knows, it could be a shock factor, people discuss and then move on and he’s able to reinvent himself or something or people would crack jokes and never let him live it down, etc.

If a contract got leaked and had specific details it could help him and people would go omg look what Hollywood forced Chris Evans to do and I knew he’d never marry anyone that young, etc. ya know the “poor Chris”, coddling scenario he’s use to. 🙄

At most, a divorce could be announced and TMZ can state they were never legally married and leave people to question whatever. Chris moves on, focuses on his career and learns to keep his private life private and no more PR shit.

I think they thought Alba would get much more recognition and fans because of Chris. That the fandom will like her, that they will start following her and start her career. The why is beyond me, though. I wouldn't say even his real girlfriends were that liked by the public, so why would a fake one with whom they look so distant and who is a worse person than the others be? I don't think they thought this through.

I wouldn't say this wasn't for us; most of the time, a PR relationship is. A random person who's watched a few projects of yours won't start following or supporting someone's partner. A fan would. Like how many people have started following Travis since they went public with Taylor? A lot. I assume they wanted something similar to happen to Alba, but they didn't succeed. As you said, the general public cares more about the age gap and the appearance. They don't have to sell them anything because they don't care. They have to make it look legit for the fans, because they are the ones following all of their steps. They will be the ones who start following the partner or check out their works. When it comes to a PR relationship, the fans need to like the partner or accept them in the close circle. The general public just doesn't care enough to make someone's partner more famous; fans could do that. Chris's fans could've started liking Alba and watching her projects, making her more wanted in projects. That's why they wanted to sell the happy relationship; that's why they filled the holes. They need fans to do their parts, not the general public.

I still think leaking something would be the best. He's lost a lot of fans, and I'm not saying that would get him everything and everyone back, but this PR wouldn't still be better than him actually being in love with her. I think it would be. Obviously, that doesn't take away the stupidity of this whole thing and that he got involved in this. It wouldn't make everything okay, but it would make it better. General public doesn't care enough about this. They would forget about him being in a PR marriage after like a day, especially right now, when a lot of much worse things are going on. This wouldn't be the worst thing a celebrity did. Right now, they should care about fans, not about the general public. Those people who've left are the important ones. They're going to go and watch all of his movies, not the general public.

I just hope that if this is truly PR, they all learned from this and have already realized that this whole thing was a mistake and will never try something like this.

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

Alright. So this fits somewhere, someday, undoubtedly in heavily revised form, in the multi-chapter post-game thing I’m writing. Hopefully. If not, who cares, it was fun!

Fluff 2: Character A helps Character B with their hair/makeup/outfit

Neve entered the tailor’s shop quietly, grateful that the plush rug on the floor was cushioning her steps. It had been a week since she’d seen Rook last, longer than they’d ever intentionally not seen each other since they’d met, but she’d gotten his invitation.

And, she hadn’t been inclined to turn it down in any case, but she was definitely not missing him in formal wear.

“What, have you gained weight?” A woman’s voice asked snidely.

“Hey, I eat real food now, not rations,” Rook defended himself, sounding a mixture of frustrated and amused. “Besides, I’m thirty-one, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t worn these since I was, what Livvy’s age?”

“I think he’s more muscular now, too,” another woman mused. ‘Livvy,’ maybe.

“We only needed to let it out a little.” The genteel voice probably belonged to the tailor himself. “Hardly much alteration at all. I almost feel bad charging for it.”

“Don’t,” Rook assured him, at the same time the snide voice put in, “then why charge for it?”

There was a tense silence, palpable even from the entry room where Neve had hidden herself, before she heard the tailor sputter his apologies and excuse himself.

“And what about your hair?” The snide voice continued, and it sounded like ‘Livvy’ sighed as Neve crept closer.

“His hair is fine, Sabine, let him be.”

A petulant foot stomp, “He’s already embarrassed this family enough. If he’s using our invitation…”

Anger, hot and bright, burned beneath Neve’s skin. She’d heard enough. She let herself into the next room, where two women looked ready for verbal battle, and between them the object of their fight.

Even if he didn’t need saving, seeing him in that was worth the trip, Neve decided.

“Well, aren’t you dressed for trouble?” She observed, a small smirk on her lips.

Three faces - angry, surprised, and thrilled in turn - turned her way.

“Neve!” Rook nearly tripped over himself as he all but ran over. He met her eyes in silent question, and at her small nod, kissed her soundly and they laughed against each other at the scandalized gasp behind him.

“Sabine, Livinia, could we, ah, have a minute?” He asked, and the two women made their way towards the entry room, Sabine glaring at Neve all the way.

Altus mages didn’t have the market completely cornered on snobbery, it seemed.

Once they were out of sight and earshot, he leaned in to kiss her again, warm fingers against her cheek and a strong arm around her waist. “You’re my hero,” he muttered, and she laughed.

“Wasn’t I already?”

Regret clear in his eyes, he stepped back. “So…what do you think?” Rook asked, gesturing to his formal wear. Amused, Neve twirled her finger, and, laughing, he complied.

“I think…it’s a good thing I came. Who knows what trouble you’d end up in, otherwise?” She teased him. He looked good, though he was somehow already rumpled.

Sure. Somehow.

Neve stepped closer, and straightened his collar and the cuffs of his outer tunic and the rearranged the longer hair atop his head into some semblance of order. “Looking good, Trouble.”

He grinned, eyes alight with mischief. “Then let’s go ruin a fancy party.”

Writing Challenge Wednesday:

Yay Wednesday! Let's write! (Btw if you sent a Rook Storytime Ask I'm still working my way through them thank you for being patient, they're actually really helping me flesh out my next story and they're a ton of fun. ) As always on these there is no time limit, tag or link or dm or reblog or comment under this post! No word count either just have fun with it that's what it's here for. I don't have standards for submission take or leave what you want, link your Ao3's, and it's all tagged writing challenge on my page! As long as it gets you writing I don't care and I will share. Let me show you off!!!

Okay I did a really fun self-imposed challenge where I turned fluffy head canons into angst cause I can turn anything into angst if you give me long enough ;) I thought it'd be fun to play with that today so I'm going to give you some fluffy head canons and some angsty head canons and I want you to flip the script and take the mood from fluff to angst or angst to fluff. (Please do platonic relationships as well as romantic if you're so inclined I'm into that)

Fluff:

Character A gives Character B a present.

Character A helps character B with their hair/makeup/outfit.

Character A and Character B want to teach Character C a skill.

Character A and Character B go dancing.

Characters A, B, and C are druuuuuuuuunk.

Angst:

Characters A and B have to go to a funeral together.

Character C has tragically gone missing and A and B have to cope.

Character A has lost someone close to them and can't stop crying. Character B and if you want Character C notices as well.

Character A has lost an important item to them or it was destroyed.

Character A and Character B are fighting for real. Real emotional or physical or both. Perhaps Character C intervenes or they work it out themselves.

Have at it and I will post mine later!!!!!