#so my heart starts pounding immediately and i get that adrenaline rush but it feels bad

[pucksandpower]

Be My Sanctuary

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles never expected to play Prince Charming to a stranger after a race, but when he comes across you being beaten by your boyfriend, he can’t just stand around and do nothing … it turns out to be exactly what you both needed

Warnings: domestic violence, abuse, and serious injury

The sun dips low on the horizon as Charles Leclerc and Fred Vasseur make their way back to the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with post-race energy, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

“That was some driving out there,” Fred says, clapping the Monégasque on the back. “P2 is nothing to sneeze at.”

Charles grins, his eyes bright despite the fatigue etched on his face. “Merci beaucoup. It felt good to be back on the podium. I think we’re really starting to find our rhythm with the car.”

“Agreed. If we can keep this momentum going-”

A sharp crack cuts through the air, followed by a cry of pain that makes both men freeze in their tracks.

Charles’ head whips around. “Did you hear that?”

Fred nods, his expression grim. “It came from over there.” He points towards a secluded area behind one of the hospitality units.

Without hesitation, they break into a run, rounding the corner just in time to see a man’s hand connect with a woman’s face. The sound of the impact turns Charles’ stomach.

“You stupid bitch!” The man screams, his face contorted with rage. “Do you have any idea how much money I lost because of you? I told you not to come to the race! You’re bad luck!”

You stumble backward, your hand pressed to your cheek. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” The man lunges forward, grabbing you by the arms and shaking you violently. “You cost me everything!”

Charles feels a surge of anger course through him. Without thinking, he sprints towards the pair, Fred close on his heels.

“Hey!” Charles shouts. “Let her go!”

The man’s head snaps up, his eyes wild. For a split second, he looks startled, but then his face twists into a snarl. Before Charles can reach them, the man slams your head against the brick wall with a sickening thud.

You crumple to the ground, unmoving.

Charles tackles the man, driving him away from the fallen woman. They hit the ground hard, and Charles feels the air rush out of his lungs. But adrenaline keeps him moving, and he manages to pin the larger man down.

“Fred!” He calls out. “Check on her!”

As Charles struggles to keep the man subdued, he hears Fred’s sharp intake of breath.

“Charles, she’s not responding. There’s ... there’s a lot of blood.”

The words send a chill down Charles’ spine. He glances over his shoulder and sees you lying motionless on the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath your head.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Charles shouts, hoping someone nearby will hear. He turns back to the man beneath him, who’s still thrashing and cursing. “Stop moving!” Charles hisses, pressing his forearm against the man’s chest.

“Get off me!” The man spits. “This is none of your business!”

Charles feels a fresh wave of rage wash over him. “None of my business? You just assaulted someone!”

Fred’s voice cuts through the chaos. “I’ve called for help. They’re on their way.” He’s kneeling beside you now, his jacket pressed against your head. “But it doesn’t look good. She needs immediate medical attention.”

The sound of running footsteps approaches, and suddenly there are more people around them. Charles recognizes some of the faces — other drivers, team personnel. Someone pulls him off the attacker, who’s quickly restrained by security.

Charles stumbles to his feet, his heart pounding. He makes his way over to where you lie, dropping to his knees beside Fred.

“Is she ...” He can’t bring himself to finish the question.

Fred shakes his head. “She’s alive, but barely. We need to keep pressure on the wound until the paramedics arrive.”

Charles nods, placing his hands over Fred’s on the makeshift compress. He looks down at your face, so pale and still. “Hold on,” he whispers. “Just hold on.”

The wait for the ambulance feels interminable. Charles keeps his eyes fixed on your chest, watching for the slight rise and fall that tells him you’re still breathing. He’s vaguely aware of the commotion around them — people asking questions, security trying to keep everyone back.

“What happened?” It’s Lewis’ voice, tinged with concern.

Fred answers, his voice low and tight. “Domestic violence. The boyfriend ...” He trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Jesus,” Lewis mutters. “Is there anything we can do?”

Charles looks up, meeting Lewis’ worried gaze. “Just ... pray, I guess.”

The sound of sirens cuts through the air, growing louder by the second. Charles feels a small measure of relief, but it’s quickly overshadowed by fear as he looks back down at you.

“Stay with us,” he murmurs. “Help is coming. Just stay with us.”

The paramedics arrive in a flurry of activity, gently but firmly moving Charles and Fred aside. Charles watches, feeling helpless, as they work on you with practiced efficiency.

“Severe head trauma,” one of them says. “We need to move her now.”

As they lift you onto a stretcher, Charles catches a glimpse of your face. There’s a bruise blooming on your cheek, stark against your pale skin. Something twists in his chest, a mixture of anger and an emotion he can’t quite name.

“I’m going with her,” he says suddenly, surprising himself.

Fred puts a hand on his shoulder. “Charles, I don’t think-”

“I need to make sure she’s okay,” Charles insists. He looks at Fred, pleading. “Someone needs to be there for her.”

After a moment, Fred nods. “Alright. I’ll handle things here and meet you at the hospital.”

Charles climbs into the ambulance, his eyes never leaving your still form. As the doors close and the vehicle lurches into motion, he reaches out and gently takes your hand.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he says softly, “but you’re not alone. I’m right here with you. And I promise, you’re going to be okay.”

As the ambulance speeds through the streets, sirens wailing, Charles finds himself holding onto your hand like a lifeline. He’s not sure if he’s trying to comfort you or himself.

The paramedic working on you glances at Charles. “You know her?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, I ... we just found her. Her boyfriend was ...” He swallows hard. “We stopped him, but not soon enough.”

The paramedic’s face softens with understanding. “You did the right thing. You probably saved her life by intervening when you did.”

Charles nods, but the words bring little comfort. He can’t shake the image of your head hitting the wall, the sound it made. He squeezes your hand gently.

“Fight,” he whispers. “Please fight.”

The rest of the ride passes in a blur of medical jargon and the steady beep of monitors. When they finally arrive at the hospital, Charles is ushered into a waiting room while you’re rushed into emergency surgery.

He paces the small room, unable to sit still. His mind races with questions. Who are you? Why would someone do this to you? Will you be okay?

Time seems to stretch endlessly. Charles checks his phone, sees messages from Fred and other concerned friends, but he can’t bring himself to respond yet. Not until he knows something.

Finally, after what feels like hours, a doctor approaches him. Charles stands, his heart in his throat.

“Are you here for the young woman brought in with head trauma?” The doctor asks.

Charles nods. “Yes. Is she ...”

“She’s out of surgery,” the doctor says. “We’ve managed to relieve the pressure on her brain, but the next 24 hours will be critical. Are you family?”

Charles hesitates. “No, I ... I was there when it happened. I rode here with her in the ambulance.”

The doctor’s expression softens slightly. “I see. Well, I can tell you that she’s stable for now, but still unconscious. We’ll be monitoring her closely.”

“Can I see her?” The words are out of Charles’ mouth before he can think better of it.

The doctor considers for a moment. “Normally we only allow family, but ... given the circumstances, I think we can make an exception. Just for a few minutes.”

Charles follows the doctor down a series of hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach your room, he pauses at the doorway, suddenly unsure.

“Go on,” the doctor says gently. “Talk to her. Sometimes patients can hear even when they’re unconscious.”

Taking a deep breath, Charles steps into the room. The sight of you lying there, surrounded by machines, makes his chest tighten. He moves to your bedside, carefully taking your hand once more.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s Charles. The guy from before. I don’t know if you remember, but ... I’m here. You’re safe now.”

He stands there for a long moment, just holding your hand and watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. It’s strange, he thinks, to feel so connected to someone he’s never even spoken to.

“I don’t know your story,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want you to know that you didn’t deserve this. No one does. And when you wake up — because you will wake up — you won’t be alone. I promise.”

A nurse appears in the doorway, signaling that his time is up. Charles gives your hand one last gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

As he leaves the room, he turns back for one last look. “I’ll be back,” he says. “Stay strong.”

Walking back to the waiting room, Charles feels a mix of emotions he can’t quite sort out. But one thing is clear — something has changed. And whatever happens next, he knows he’ll be there to see it through.

***

Days blend into one another as Charles maintains his vigil at your bedside. The rest of the Formula 1 circus has long since departed, but Charles can’t bring himself to leave. He’s made arrangements with the team, grateful for their understanding, and settled into a routine of sorts.

Each morning, he arrives at the hospital with fresh flowers and a determination that today might be the day you wake up. He talks to you, reads to you, and sometimes just sits in companionable silence, the steady beep of monitors a constant backdrop.

On the fifth day, as Charles is midway through reading an article about the benefits of having a dachshund, he notices a slight change. Your fingers twitch, almost imperceptibly. He leans forward, heart racing.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking your hand. “Can you hear me? If you can, squeeze my hand.”

For a long moment, nothing happens. Then, so faintly he almost misses it, he feels a gentle pressure against his palm. His breath catches in his throat.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re doing great. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Slowly, painfully slowly, your eyelids flutter open. Your gaze is unfocused at first, confusion evident in your expression as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s okay,” Charles says, keeping his voice low and soothing. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now.”

You blink a few times, your gaze finally settling on Charles. Your brow furrows slightly, and you open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” Charles advises. “Your throat might be sore from the tube. Here.” He reaches for a cup of water with a straw, holding it to your lips. “Small sips, okay?”

You take a tentative sip, wincing slightly. After a moment, you try again to speak. Your voice is raspy, barely above a whisper. “Who ...”

“I’m Charles,” he says. “I was there when ... when you got hurt. Do you remember anything?”

You close your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. “Jake,” you murmur. “He was angry ...”

Charles feels a flare of anger at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, but he keeps his voice calm. “That’s right. He hurt you pretty badly. But you’re safe now. He can’t get to you here.”

You shake your head slightly, wincing at the movement. “It wasn’t his fault,” you say. “He just ... he gets upset sometimes. I shouldn’t have gone to the race. I knew it would make him angry.”

Charles frowns, recognizing the pattern of self-blame common in abuse victims. He takes a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Listen,” he says gently. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. No matter how angry someone gets, they don’t have the right to hurt you. Ever.”

You look away, tears welling up in your eyes. “You don’t understand. Jake ... he loves me. He just has a temper sometimes.”

“Love shouldn’t hurt,” Charles says firmly. “Love doesn’t leave you in the hospital with a skull fracture.”

Your eyes widen slightly at this information. “Is that ... is that what happened to me?”

Charles nods solemnly. “You’ve been unconscious for five days. The doctors ... they weren’t sure if you’d wake up at all.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t ... I don’t know what to do now.”

“You press charges,” Charles says without hesitation. “What he did to you was a crime. He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”

You shake your head frantically, wincing again at the movement. “No, I can’t. He’d be so angry. He ...”

“He would what?” Charles presses gently. “Hurt you again? That’s exactly why you need to do this. To protect yourself and maybe even others.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, tears falling silently. “I’m scared,” you finally whisper.

Charles squeezes your hand. “I know. And that’s okay. Being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. But you’re stronger than you know. You survived this. You can survive what comes next, too.”

“But where would I go?” You ask, your voice small. “Jake ... he made me drop out of school. I had to quit my job. I don’t have anywhere to go, or any money, or ...”

Your words trail off as a fresh wave of tears overtakes you. Charles feels a surge of protectiveness, coupled with a deep anger at the man who has left you in this situation.

“Hey,” he says softly, waiting until you meet his gaze. “I know we’ve only just met, and this might sound crazy, but ... what if you came to stay with me for a while?”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I live in Monaco,” Charles explains. “I know it’s far from here, but maybe that’s a good thing. It would give you some distance, some time to figure things out without having to worry about ... about him finding you.”

“But ... but I couldn’t,” you stammer. “I don’t have any money, I can’t pay rent or-”

Charles shakes his head. “I’m not asking for rent. I’m offering you a safe place to stay while you get back on your feet. No strings attached.”

You look at him skeptically. “Why would you do that for a stranger?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, considering his answer. “Because when I saw what was happening to you, I couldn’t just walk away. And I can’t walk away now, knowing you need help. Maybe it’s not my place, maybe it’s crossing some line, but ... I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

You’re silent for a long moment, and Charles can almost see the wheels turning in your mind as you weigh your options.

“What about your job?” You finally ask. “Don’t you have races to go to?”

Charles nods. “I do. But I have a big apartment, and there’s plenty of room. You’d have your own space. And when I’m away for races, I have friends who could check in on you, make sure you have everything you need.”

You bite your lip, looking torn. “I don’t know ... it’s a lot to take in.”

“Of course,” Charles says quickly. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take some time to think about it. But know that the offer is there if you want it.”

Just then, a nurse enters the room. Her face lights up when she sees you’re awake. “Well, look who’s back with us,” she says warmly. “I’ll go get the doctor. He’ll want to check you over.”

As the nurse leaves, you turn back to Charles. “You should go,” you say. “You’ve already done so much. You don’t need to stay.”

Charles stands, but he doesn’t move towards the door. “I’ll step out while the doctor examines you,” he says. “But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back after. We can talk more about ... everything.”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” you say softly. “And ... thank you. For being here. For caring.”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

As he steps into the hallway, Charles takes a deep breath. He knows he’s getting involved in a complicated situation, one that could have far-reaching consequences. But looking back at you through the doorway, he knows he’s made the right choice. Whatever comes next, he’ll be there to help you through it.

The doctor arrives, and Charles settles into a chair in the hallway. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the messages he’s neglected over the past few days. There’s one from Fred, asking for an update. Charles types out a quick reply.

She’s awake. It’s complicated, but I think she’s going to be okay. I’ll call you later with details.

As he hits send, Charles leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He knows the road ahead won’t be easy, for either of you. But for the first time in days, he feels a spark of hope. It’s a start, he thinks. And sometimes, that’s all you need.

***

The sunlight glints off the sleek exterior of the private jet as Charles helps you up the stairs. He can feel the slight tremor in your hand as he guides you inside, noting the way your eyes dart nervously around the cabin.

“Welcome aboard,” Charles says with a warm smile, hoping to put you at ease. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ve got a bit of a flight ahead of us.”

You nod, your lips pressed into a thin line as you sink into one of the plush leather seats. Charles settles in across from you, watching as you fumble with the seatbelt.

“Here, let me help,” he offers, leaning forward to assist. As he clicks the belt into place, he notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the armrests. “First time flying?” He asks gently.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

Charles shakes his head, his expression kind. “Not at all. But I fly a lot, so I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting nervous passengers.”

The engines roar to life, and you jump slightly in your seat. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t realize I’d be this scared.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” Charles assures you. “It’s a completely normal fear. Did you know that even some drivers get nervous on planes?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? But you guys race at insane speeds for a living.”

Charles chuckles. “I know, it sounds crazy. But it’s true. I think it’s about control. In a car, we’re in charge. On a plane, we have to trust someone else.”

You nod, seeming to relax slightly at his words. But as the plane begins to taxi, your grip on the armrests tightens again.

“So,” Charles says, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me about what you were studying before ... well, before everything happened.”

You look at him, confusion briefly replacing the fear in your eyes. “What?”

“You mentioned you had to drop out of school,” Charles explains. “What were you studying?”

A small laugh escapes you, tinged with irony. “You’re going to think this is ridiculous, but ... I was studying law.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Law? That’s impressive. Why would I think it’s ridiculous?”

You shrug, a hint of sadness creeping into your expression. “Just seems a bit ironic now, doesn’t it? Studying law and then ending up in a situation like ... like mine.”

The plane begins to accelerate down the runway, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, reaching across to place his hand over yours. “Look at me. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. Charles can see the fear there, but also a flicker of determination.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Now, tell me more about your law studies. What made you choose that field?”

You take a deep breath, clearly making an effort to focus on the conversation rather than the plane’s ascent. “I’ve always been interested in justice, I guess. Helping people who can’t help themselves. I wanted to make a difference.”

Charles nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “That’s admirable. And you know what? I don’t think it’s ironic at all that you were studying law. If anything, I think it shows how strong you are.”

The plane levels off, and some of the tension leaves your body. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charles says, leaning back in his seat but keeping his hand on yours, “you chose a field dedicated to justice and helping others. That takes courage and compassion. The fact that you ended up in a difficult situation doesn’t change who you are at your core.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “I never thought about it like that,” you admit.

“Have you thought about going back to school?” Charles asks. “Finishing your degree?”

You shake your head, a flash of pain crossing your face. “I can’t. I don’t have the money, and even if I did, I can’t go back to my old university. Jake ... he knows where it is. He’d find me.”

Charles nods, understanding. “What if you didn’t have to go back to your old university? What if you could start fresh somewhere new?”

You look at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charles says, his mind racing with possibilities, “there are online programs you could look into. Or, if you prefer in-person classes, there’s the International University of Monaco. It’s a great school, and it would be close to where you’ll be staying.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Monaco has a university?”

Charles nods, a grin spreading across his face. “It does indeed. And they have a law program. I could help you look into it if you’re interested.”

You bite your lip, looking uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I was in school. And the cost ...”

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Charles says quickly. “Consider it an investment in your future. And as for being out of practice, well, that’s what studying is for, right?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You make it sound so simple.”

Charles shrugs. “Maybe it is. Sometimes we overcomplicate things in our heads. But the truth is, if it’s something you want to do, there’s usually a way to make it happen.”

The plane encounters a patch of turbulence, causing it to shake slightly. Your grip on Charles’ hand tightens, but you don’t close your eyes this time.

“Sorry,” you mutter, loosening your grip slightly.

“No need to apologize,” Charles says. “I’m here if you need a hand to hold. Or a distraction. Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me about your favorite class from when you were in school?”

As you launch into a story about a particularly engaging Constitutional Law seminar, Charles can’t help but notice how your eyes light up. It’s the most animated he’s seen you since you woke up in the hospital, and it fills him with a sense of hope.

The rest of the flight passes in a blur of conversation. You tell Charles about your favorite professors, the most interesting cases you studied, and your obsession with Legally Blonde while growing up. In turn, Charles shares stories from his racing career, the challenges he’s faced, and the lessons he’s learned along the way.

Before either of you realize it, the captain’s voice comes over the intercom, announcing your descent into Nice.

“Oh,” you say, surprise evident in your voice. “We’re here already?”

Charles grins. “See? Not so bad, was it?”

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping you. “I guess not. Thank you, Charles. For ... well, for everything.”

As the plane touches down on the runway, Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You’re welcome,” he says softly. “And hey, this is just the beginning, right?”

You nod, a mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes. “Right. The beginning.”

The plane comes to a stop, and Charles stands, offering you his hand. “Ready to see your new home?”

You take a deep breath, then place your hand in his. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As you make their way down the steps of the plane, Charles can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but looking at you now, seeing the spark of determination in your eyes, he’s filled with hope for what the future might hold.

The Mediterranean sun greets them as they step onto the tarmac, warm and welcoming. Charles watches as you take in your surroundings, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, gazing at the azure sea in the distance.

Charles smiles, feeling a surge of pride for his home. “Wait until you see the rest of it. Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

As you walk towards the waiting Ferrari, Charles finds himself stealing glances at you. There’s still fear and uncertainty in your eyes, but there’s something else too — a resilience that he admires. He makes a silent promise to himself, right there on the sun-drenched tarmac of the Côte d’Azur, to do whatever he can to help you rebuild your life.

“So,” he says as you slide into the passenger seat, “shall we swing by the university on our way home? Just to have a look?”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Yeah,” you say, a small smile playing at your lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

The quiet of the night is shattered by a piercing scream. Charles bolts upright in his bed, heart racing, momentarily disoriented. Then realization hits him like a wave — it’s you.

Without hesitation, he leaps out of bed and races down the hallway to your room. He bursts through the door to find you thrashing in your sheets, eyes squeezed shut, still caught in the grip of your nightmare.

“No, Jake, please!” You cry out, your voice raw with fear. “Don’t hurt me!”

Charles is at your side in an instant, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he says softly but firmly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

Your eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, you recoil from his touch, still trapped between nightmare and reality.

“It’s me,” Charles says, keeping his voice calm. “It’s Charles. You’re in Monaco, remember? You’re safe here.”

Slowly, recognition dawns in your eyes. “Charles?” You whisper, your voice trembling.

He nods, offering a reassuring smile. “That’s right. I’m here. You’re okay.”

The tension leaves your body all at once, and you collapse against him, tears streaming down your face. Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sob into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Charles soothes, running a hand gently up and down your back. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was just a nightmare.”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your tears with shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I feel so stupid.”

Charles shakes his head firmly. “You’re not stupid. Nightmares are normal after what you’ve been through. And I’m glad I woke up. I want to be here for you.”

You take a shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. “It felt so real,” you whisper. “I could feel his hands on me, hear his voice ...”

“But it wasn’t real,” Charles reminds you gently. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

You nod, but Charles can see the lingering fear in your eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, I ... I just want to forget.”

“Okay,” Charles says, understanding. “Is there anything I can do? Maybe get you some water or tea?”

You bite your lip, looking uncertain. “Could you ... would you mind staying? Just until I fall asleep?” The words come out in a rush, as if you’re afraid to ask.

Charles feels a surge of protectiveness. “Of course,” he says without hesitation. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

Relief washes over your face. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Charles helps you settle back against the pillows, then hesitates for a moment. “Is it okay if I ...” He gestures to the other side of the bed.

You nod, shifting over slightly to make room. Charles slips under the sheets, careful to maintain a respectful distance. But you surprise him by moving closer, seeking comfort in his presence.

“Is this okay?” You ask, your voice small.

“Of course,” Charles assures you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace without pressure. “Whatever you need.”

You hesitate for just a moment before curling into his side, your head resting on his chest. Charles wraps his arms around you, feeling the rapid beat of your heart against his side.

“Try to relax,” he murmurs. “Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.”

You nod against his chest, making a conscious effort to steady your breathing. Charles can feel some of the tension leaving your body as the minutes tick by.

“Charles?” You say after a while, your voice soft in the darkness.

“Hmm?”

“How do you do it?” You ask. “How do you stay so calm and ... and kind, even when I’m such a mess?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, considering his words. “You’re not a mess,” he says finally. “You’re healing. And that takes time. As for staying calm ... well, I’ve had my own struggles. I know what it’s like to need someone in your corner.”

You lift your head slightly, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath. He’s never been one to open up easily, but something about the quiet intimacy of the moment makes him want to share.

“Seven years ago now, I lost my father,” he says softly. “It was ... it was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. There were nights when I thought the pain would swallow me whole. But I had people who stood by me, who helped me through it. They taught me the importance of being there for others in their darkest moments.”

You’re silent for a long moment, absorbing his words. “I’m so sorry about your father,” you say finally. “That must have been awful.”

Charles nods, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. “It was. But it also taught me something important. Pain doesn’t last forever. It changes you, yes, but it doesn’t define you. You can come out the other side stronger.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, a hint of doubt in your voice.

“I do,” Charles says firmly. “I’ve seen it in myself, and I see it in you too. You’re stronger than you know.”

You’re quiet again, and Charles can almost hear the wheels turning in your mind. “I want to believe that,” you say eventually. “But sometimes it feels like ... like I’ll never be whole again.”

Charles tightens his embrace slightly. “Healing isn’t about going back to who you were before,” he says. “It’s about becoming someone new. Someone who carries the lessons of the past but isn’t defined by them.”

You nod slowly, considering his words. “That makes sense,” you admit. “It’s just ... it’s hard to see that future sometimes.”

“I know,” Charles says softly. “But that’s why you’re not alone in this. I’m here to remind you of that future when you can’t see it yourself.”

You lift your head again, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Why are you doing all this for me? You barely know me.”

Charles is struck by the vulnerability in your eyes. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.

“Because when I saw you that day, something inside me just ... knew I had to help,” he says. “I can’t explain it rationally. But I believe that sometimes, people come into our lives for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to help you heal. Or maybe you’re meant to teach me something. I don’t know. But I do know that I want to be here for you, if you’ll let me.”

You study his face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, you lay your head back on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says. “Just focus on healing. And remember, you’re not alone in this.”

You nod against his chest, and Charles can feel your body relaxing further. Your breathing becomes slower, more even, and he knows you’re drifting off to sleep.

As the night deepens around you, Charles finds himself wide awake, acutely aware of your warm presence against him. He’s never been in a situation quite like this before, and he’s surprised by how natural it feels.

He thinks about the past few days, about the small victories you’ve already achieved. The way your eyes lit up when you toured the university campus. The quiet determination in your voice when you asked about application procedures. The shy smile that appeared when he showed you around Monaco.

Charles knows the road ahead won’t be easy. There will likely be more nights like this, more nightmares to soothe. But looking down at your peaceful face, finally relaxed in sleep, he feels a surge of hope.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, he’ll be there to face them with you. And somehow, he knows that together, you’ll both come out stronger on the other side.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the windows, Charles finally feels his own eyes growing heavy. He allows himself to drift off, still holding you close, a silent promise of protection in his embrace.

In the quiet of the early morning, as the world outside begins to stir, there’s a sense of peace in the room. It’s fragile, perhaps, but it’s there. And for now, in this moment, it’s enough.

***

The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Charles stirs, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He feels a weight against his chest and looks down to see you still nestled in his arms, your breathing deep and even.

For a moment, he simply watches you sleep, struck by how peaceful you look compared to the night before. He’s careful not to move, not wanting to disturb your rest. But as the room grows brighter, he sees your eyelids begin to flutter.

You blink awake, confusion briefly clouding your features before recognition sets in. “Charles?” You murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” he says softly, offering a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

You shift slightly, seeming to become aware of your position. A blush creeps across your cheeks as you pull back a bit. “I’m ... I’m okay,” you say. “I’m sorry about last night. You didn’t have to stay.”

Charles shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I wanted to stay. I’m just glad you were able to get some rest.”

You nod, running a hand through your tousled hair. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if ...”

Your voice trails off, but Charles understands. “Hey,” he says, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to think about that. You’re here now, and you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You’re right. I just ... I’m not used to someone being so kind without expecting anything in return.”

Charles feels a pang in his chest at your words. “Well, get used to it,” he says, injecting a lightness into his tone. “Because that’s just how things work in the Leclerc household.”

You laugh softly, the sound warming Charles from the inside out. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Charles grins. “It’s in the contract. Kindness, comfort, and an abundance of croissants. Speaking of which, are you hungry? I could whip up some breakfast.”

You nod, sitting up slowly. “Breakfast sounds great. But you don’t have to cook. I can manage.”

Charles waves off your protest as he sits up as well. “Nonsense. I insist. Besides, I make a mean omelette. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my secret recipe.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Secret recipe, huh? Do I get to know what’s in it?”

Charles taps the side of his nose conspiratorially. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it? You’ll just have to trust me.”

As he moves to get out of bed, a thought strikes him. He hesitates for a moment, then turns back to you. “Actually, before we head to the kitchen, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

You look at him curiously, a hint of apprehension in your eyes. “Oh?”

Charles takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. “I was wondering if ... well, if you might want to come to my next race with me?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Your next race?”

Charles nods, watching your reaction carefully. “Yeah. It’s in a couple of weeks. I thought maybe a change of scenery might be good for you. Plus, you’d get to see what I do up close. But if it’s too soon, or if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I completely understand.”

You’re quiet for a moment, biting your lip as you consider his offer. “I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just ... the last time I was at a race ...”

Understanding dawns on Charles’s face. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that. We don’t have to go if it brings up bad memories.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, it’s not that. Well, not entirely. It’s just ... I’m worried about being recognized. What if Jake sees me on TV or something?”

Charles leans forward, his expression serious. “Hey, look at me. If you come to the race, you’ll be under the full protection of the team. No one gets near the garage without proper clearance. And as for TV, well, we can make sure you’re not caught on camera if that’s what you want.”

You still look uncertain. “But won’t people wonder who I am? I don’t want to cause any trouble for you or your team.”

Charles can’t help but smile at your concern. “Trust me, the team has dealt with far more complicated situations than this. If anyone asks, we’ll simply say you’re a family friend. No one needs to know the details.”

He watches as you mull over his words, hope building in his chest. Finally, you look up at him, a small smile playing at your lips. “You really want me to come?”

Charles nods emphatically. “I really do. I think it could be good for you. A chance to create some new, positive memories associated with racing. Plus,” he adds with a grin, “I’d love for you to see me in action. I promise I’ll try to put on a good show.”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood in the room. “Oh, is that so? Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

Charles shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

You shake your head in amusement, but Charles can see you’re still hesitating. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. The offer stands whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, looking grateful for the lack of pressure. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll think about it, I promise.”

“That’s all I ask,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Now, how about that breakfast? I believe I promised you a life-changing omelette.”

As you make your way to the kitchen, Charles can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows he’s taking a risk by inviting you to the race so soon, but something tells him it’s the right move. He’s seen glimpses of your strength over the past few days, and he believes that this could be a crucial step in your healing process.

In the kitchen, Charles busies himself with preparing breakfast, stealing glances at you as you settle at the counter. You still look a bit hesitant, but there’s a spark in your eyes that wasn’t there before.

“So,” he says as he cracks eggs into a bowl, “while you’re thinking about the race, why don’t you tell me more about your law studies? Any particular area you’re most interested in?”

You perk up at the question, and Charles listens intently as you launch into an enthusiastic explanation of your passion for human rights law. As he watches you speak, animated and engaged, he feels a warmth spread through his chest.

This, he thinks, is what healing looks like. Small steps, day by day, reclaiming pieces of yourself. And if he can play even a small part in that process, well, that’s a victory more satisfying than any podium finish.

As he serves up the omelettes, Charles makes a silent promise to himself. Whatever you decide about the race, whatever challenges lie ahead, he’ll be there. Supporting you, cheering you on, just as fiercely as any fan in the grandstands.

Because in this moment, watching you take your first bite and exclaim over his “secret recipe,” Charles realizes something important. In helping you find your strength, he’s discovering new depths of his own.

***

The energy in the paddock is electric as Charles makes his way to the Ferrari garage. He can feel the excitement buzzing through the air, the anticipation of the race to come. But today, there’s an extra flutter in his stomach that has nothing to do with pre-race jitters.

He spots you standing near the back of the garage, looking a bit overwhelmed by the flurry of activity around you. Your eyes light up when you see him, and he can’t help but smile.

“Hey,” he says, approaching you. “How are you holding up?”

You give him a small smile. “It’s ... a lot. But exciting. I can’t believe I’m actually here.”

Charles nods, understanding. “I know it can be overwhelming at first. But you’re doing great. And I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “A surprise? Charles, you didn’t have to-”

He cuts you off with a grin. “I wanted to. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Charles leads you to a quieter corner of the garage where his race gear is laid out. He picks up his helmet, turning it so you can see the design.

Your eyes widen as you spot the purple ribbon painted prominently on the side. “Is that ...”

Charles nods, his expression softening. “A domestic violence awareness ribbon. I had it added for this race.”

You’re quiet for a moment, your fingers hovering over the ribbon without quite touching it. When you look up at Charles, your eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Why?” You ask softly.

Charles takes a deep breath. “Because I want to use my platform to raise awareness. And because ...” he pauses, meeting your gaze, “because I want you to know that you’re not alone. That there are people out there who care and want to help.”

You blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “Charles, I don’t know what to say. This is ... it’s incredible.”

He reaches out, gently squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that when I’m out there on the track today, I’m racing for you and for everyone who’s been in your position.”

You nod, unable to speak. Charles understands the emotions you’re feeling — he’s feeling them too.

A voice calls out from across the garage. “Charles! Five minutes!”

Charles turns back to you. “I’ve got to go get ready. Will you be okay?”

You take a deep breath, composing yourself. “I’ll be fine. Go. And Charles?” You meet his eyes, a small smile on your face. “Thank you. For everything.”

He nods, giving your hand one last squeeze before heading off to finish his pre-race preparations.

The race itself is a blur of adrenaline and focus. Charles pushes himself to the limit, hyper-aware of the special helmet he’s wearing and what it represents. When he crosses the finish line in second place, his heart is pounding with more than just exertion.

As he pulls into parc fermé, Charles can see the crowd of reporters already gathering. He takes a deep breath, knowing what’s coming. Sure enough, as soon as he steps foot in the media pen, he’s surrounded by microphones and cameras.

“Charles! Congratulations on P2!” One reporter calls out. “But everyone’s talking about your helmet today. Can you tell us about the ribbon?”

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “The ribbon on my helmet today is a symbol of awareness for domestic violence. It’s an issue that affects millions of people around the world, and I wanted to use this platform to bring attention to it.”

Another reporter jumps in. “Was there a specific reason you chose this race to highlight this cause?”

Charles pauses, carefully considering his words. “I believe that as public figures, we have a responsibility to use our voices for good. Domestic violence is a problem that often stays hidden, and I want to help bring it into the light.”

“Will the helmet be part of any specific initiative?” A third reporter asks.

Charles nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yes, actually. I’m going to be auctioning off this helmet, with all proceeds going to charities that combat domestic violence and support survivors.”

There’s a murmur of approval from the gathered press. “That’s a wonderful gesture,” one reporter says. “Can you tell us more about why this cause is so important to you?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes briefly scanning the crowd. He spots you standing at the back, partially hidden behind a barrier. Your eyes meet, and he draws strength from your presence.

“It’s important because it’s a problem that affects so many people, yet it’s often overlooked or ignored,” Charles says, his voice steady and clear. “I ... I have seen firsthand the devastating impact it can have on someone’s life. And I want to do whatever I can to help break the cycle of violence and provide support for those who need it.”

There’s a moment of silence as the reporters absorb his words. Then the questions start flying again.

“Have you partnered with any specific organizations for this initiative?”

“Do you plan to continue raising awareness for this cause in future races?”

“How do you balance your focus on racing with your desire to address social issues?”

Charles answers each question thoughtfully, his passion for the cause evident in every word. As the press conference winds down, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride. Not just for his performance on the track, but for using his platform to make a difference.

As he makes his way back to the Ferrari garage, Charles spots you waiting for him. Your eyes are bright with emotion, and he can see the pride and gratitude written all over your face.

“That was amazing,” you say as he approaches. “I can’t believe you did all that.”

Charles shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “It was the least I could do. I hope it helps, even if it’s just a little bit.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping you. “A little bit? Charles, do you have any idea how much impact something like this can have? You just brought attention to this issue in front of millions of people.”

He nods, the weight of what he’s done starting to sink in. “I just hope it makes a difference. That it helps someone out there feel less alone.”

You reach out, squeezing his hand. “It already has,” you say softly.

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a voice calls out from behind him.

“Charles! A word?”

Charles turns to see a familiar face — Federica, a respected journalist he’s known for years. She approaches with a warm smile, notepad in hand.

“Federica,” Charles greets her. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” she replies. “That was quite a statement you made out there today. I was hoping we could talk a bit more about it. Off the record, if you prefer.”

Charles glances at you, silently asking if you’re okay with this. You nod encouragingly.

“Sure,” Charles says. “What would you like to know?”

Federica’s expression turns serious. “I’ve known you for a while now. This isn’t just a random cause you’ve picked up. There’s a personal connection here, isn’t there?”

Charles takes a deep breath, weighing his words carefully. He feels you shift closer to him, offering silent support.

“You’re right,” he says finally. “It is personal. I can’t go into details, but ... I’ve seen up close how devastating domestic violence can be. And I realized that I had an opportunity to do something about it.”

Federica nods, her eyes softening with understanding. “That’s very brave of you, Charles. Both to take this stand and to admit the personal connection. Can I ask what made you decide to do it now?”

Charles glances at you again, a small smile playing at his lips. “Let’s just say I’ve been inspired by someone very brave. Someone who showed me that it’s possible to turn pain into purpose.”

Federica follows his gaze, her eyebrows raising slightly as she notices you for the first time. “I see,” she says, a knowing look in her eye. “Well, I think what you’re doing is wonderful. And I would be happy to help spread the word about the helmet auction, if you’d like.”

Charles nods gratefully. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

As Federica walks away, Charles turns back to you. “I hope that was okay,” he says softly. “I didn’t want to say too much, but ...”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “It was perfect. Really. I ... I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

Charles reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to thank me. Seeing you here, seeing how far you’ve come ... that’s all the thanks I need.”

For a moment, you just look at each other, a wealth of unspoken emotions passing between you. Then, impulsively, you step forward and wrap your arms around Charles in a tight hug.

He returns the embrace without hesitation, holding you close. In that moment, surrounded by the noise and chaos of the paddock, Charles feels a sense of peace wash over him.

This, he thinks, is what really matters. Not the podiums or the points, but the ability to make a difference. To help someone heal and find their strength again.

As you pull back from the hug, Charles sees something new in your eyes. A spark of determination, of hope for the future. And he knows, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

***

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows of Charles’ Monaco apartment, warming the living room. Charles is sprawled on the couch, idly scrolling through his phone, when he hears a sudden gasp from the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” your voice carries through the apartment, a mix of shock and something else Charles can’t quite place.

He sits up, instantly alert. “Everything okay?” He calls out, already moving towards the kitchen.

You appear in the doorway, your face flushed and your eyes wide. You’re clutching your phone like a lifeline, and there’s an energy radiating from you that Charles has never seen before.

“I ... I got in,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles furrows his brow, confused for a moment before realization dawns. “The university? You heard back?”

You nod, a smile breaking across your face like the sun emerging from behind clouds. “I got in, Charles. They accepted me!”

The joy in your voice is infectious, and Charles feels his own face split into a grin. “That’s amazing!” He exclaims, stepping towards you. “I knew you could do it!”

What happens next seems to unfold in slow motion. You close the distance between you in two quick steps, and before Charles can process what’s happening, your lips are on his.

The kiss is brief, a burst of spontaneous happiness, but it sends a jolt through Charles’ entire body. For a split second, he’s frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality of your lips against his.

But as quickly as it began, it’s over. You pull back abruptly, your eyes wide with shock at your own actions. “Oh god,” you stammer, taking a step back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ... I was just excited and I ...”

Charles can see the panic rising in your eyes, the fear that you’ve crossed a line. He wants to reassure you, to tell you that it’s okay, more than okay, but you’re already backing away, words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please don’t be mad, I-”

“Hey,” Charles cuts in gently, reaching out to catch your hand before you can retreat further. “Stop apologizing.”

You freeze, uncertainty written all over your face. “But I-”

Charles shakes his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact ...” he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You ... you have?”

Charles nods, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “I have. But I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted to give you time to heal, to find yourself again.”

You’re quiet for a moment, processing his words. “So you’re not ... upset?”

Charles can’t help but chuckle. “Upset? No, definitely not upset. More like ... thrilled. And maybe a little disappointed in myself for not making the first move.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Really?”

“Really,” Charles confirms. He takes a step closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “In fact, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to kiss you again. Properly this time.”

You nod, a mix of nervousness and anticipation in your eyes. “I’d like that,” you whisper.

Charles leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to change your mind. But you don’t pull away. Instead, you meet him halfway, your lips connecting in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise.

This time, Charles is fully present in the moment. He savors the feeling of your lips against his, the warmth of your body as you step closer. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless. Charles rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“Wow,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Charles agrees. “Wow indeed.”

For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then Charles remembers what started all this.

“So,” he says, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You got into law school. We should celebrate!”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree in a way Charles has never heard before. “I almost forgot about that for a second there.”

Charles grins. “Well, we can’t have that. It’s not every day you get accepted to study law at the International University of Monaco. This calls for champagne!”

He starts to move towards the kitchen, but you tug on his hand, pulling him back. “Wait,” you say softly. “Before we celebrate ... can we talk about this?” You gesture between the two of you.

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

You bite your lip, suddenly looking uncertain. “I just ... where do we go from here? I mean, I like you, Charles. A lot. But I’m still ... I’m still healing. And I don’t want to complicate things or ruin our friendship if-”

Charles cuts you off gently, taking both of your hands in his. “Hey, look at me,” he says softly. When you meet his gaze, he continues. “I like you too. A lot. And I understand that you’re still healing. I don’t want to rush anything or pressure you in any way.”

You nod, relief evident in your eyes. “So what do we do?”

Charles smiles. “We take it slow. We keep being friends, but we also explore these new feelings. And most importantly, we communicate. If at any point you feel overwhelmed or want to slow things down, you tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, a small smile playing at your lips. “And what if ... what if I want to speed things up sometimes?”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Then we can do that too. As long as we’re both comfortable and on the same page.”

You nod, looking more relaxed now. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good,” Charles says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, about that champagne ...”

As Charles moves to the kitchen to fetch the bottle, he can’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. This thing between you is new and fragile, but it’s also full of potential. And he’s determined to nurture it, to give it the time and care it needs to grow into something beautiful.

He returns with two glasses and the champagne, finding you settled on the couch. As he pours, he can’t help but steal glances at you. There’s a glow about you that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun — it’s the light of new beginnings, of hope for the future.

“A toast,” Charles says, handing you a glass. “To new adventures in education and ... other areas.”

You laugh, clinking your glass against his. “To new adventures,” you agree.

As you sip the champagne, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles finds himself marveling at how far you’ve come in the past few months. From the scared, broken woman he first met to this confident woman embarking on a new chapter of her life.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, noticing his contemplative expression.

Charles smiles. “Just ... how proud I am of you. You’ve come so far, and now you’re starting this new journey. It’s inspiring.”

You blush slightly at his words. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. Your support has meant everything.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Charles insists. “But I’m glad I could help. And I’ll be here to support you through your studies too. Although,” he adds with a grin, “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be with law textbooks.”

You laugh, leaning into him slightly. “I’m sure you’ll find ways to be helpful. Moral support is important too, you know.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case, I’m your man. Moral support is my specialty.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, you and Charles talk about everything and nothing. You discuss your hopes for university, your fears, your dreams for the future. Charles shares stories from his racing career, anecdotes he’s never told anyone else.

And through it all, there’s a new undercurrent of electricity between you. A spark ignited by that spontaneous kiss, fueled by the promise of something more.

As the sky outside turns a deep indigo, Charles finds himself marveling at the unexpected turns life can take. A few months ago, he was just a driver focused on his next win. Now, he’s sitting here with you, on the cusp of something that feels bigger and more important than any championship.

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Charles pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Just thinking about how sometimes the best things in life are the ones you never see coming.”

You snuggle into his side, a contented sigh escaping you. “I couldn’t agree more.”

***

Five Years Later

The sun shines brightly on the streets of Monaco as Charles stands before a modest but elegant building, his heart swelling with pride. He glances at you, standing beside him in a crisp power suit, your eyes sparkling with excitement and determination. It’s a look he’s come to know well over the past five years, but today it seems to shine even brighter.

“Are you ready for this?” Charles asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You turn to him, a radiant smile spreading across your face. “I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” you reply, your voice steady and sure.

Charles feels a surge of love and admiration wash over him. He remembers the scared, broken woman he met all those years ago, and marvels at the strong, confident woman you’ve become. His wife. His partner in every sense of the word.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice calls out, drawing their attention to the small crowd gathered before them. “We are here today to celebrate the grand opening of the Leclerc Center for Domestic Violence Support and Legal Aid.”

A round of applause breaks out, and Charles feels you squeeze his hand tighter. He knows how much this moment means to you, how hard you’ve worked to make it a reality.

The speaker, a distinguished-looking woman in her fifties, continues. “This center represents a beacon of hope for those who have suffered in silence, a promise that they are not alone, and that help is available. And we have two very special people to thank for making this dream a reality.”

She gestures towards Charles and you. “Charles and Y/N, would you like to say a few words before we cut the ribbon?”

Charles looks at you, silently asking if you want to speak first. You nod, stepping forward with the confidence of someone who has found their true calling.

“Thank you all for being here today,” you begin, your voice clear and strong. “This center is more than just a building. It’s a promise. A promise to every person out there who’s suffering in an abusive relationship that there is hope, there is help, and there is a way out.”

Charles watches you speak, feeling a swell of pride. He remembers the countless late nights you spent poring over law books, the tears of frustration and determination as you fought your way through law school. And now here you are, a fully qualified attorney, using your hard-earned skills to help others who were once in your position.

“I stand here today not just as a lawyer, not just as the co-founder of this center, but as someone who has been where many of our future clients are right now,” you continue, your voice wavering slightly with emotion. “I know the fear, the doubt, the feeling of being trapped. But I also know the incredible strength that lies within each survivor. And it is my deepest hope that this center will help them find that strength, just as I did.”

As you step back, wiping a tear from your eye, Charles pulls you into a quick, supportive hug before stepping forward himself.

“When I met my wife five years ago,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion, “I was just a driver who thought he had it all figured out. But she opened my eyes to a world I knew little about, and showed me that sometimes the most important battles are the ones fought off the track.”

He pauses, looking out at the crowd. He sees familiar faces — fellow drivers who’ve supported this project, team members who’ve become like family, and new faces too — survivors, advocates, people who believe in the mission of this center.

“This center is a dream that we’ve shared for years,” Charles continues. “A dream of creating a safe space where survivors can find legal support, counseling, and most importantly, hope. And while I may not be the one providing legal advice,” he adds with a chuckle, earning a laugh from the crowd, “I promise to support this center and its mission in every way I can.”

He turns to you, his eyes shining with love and admiration. “And to my incredible wife, who has been the driving force behind all of this — thank you. For your strength, your determination, and for showing me what true courage looks like every single day.”

As Charles steps back, the crowd erupts in applause. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as the official hands you a large pair of scissors.

“Are you ready to do the honors?” The official asks.

You and Charles share a look, years of unspoken understanding passing between you in that moment. Together, you step forward, positioning the scissors at the purple ribbon stretched across the entrance.

“On the count of three,” the official announces. “One ... two ... three!”

With a satisfying snip, the ribbon falls away. The crowd cheers, and cameras flash as you and Charles stand before the open doors of the center, your shared dream finally a reality.

As the crowd begins to file inside for the reception, you turn to Charles, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “We did it,” you whisper. “We really did it.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, not caring about the cameras still flashing around them. “You did it,” he murmurs into your hair. “I just followed your lead.”

You pull back, shaking your head with a fond smile. “We’re a team, remember?”

Charles laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “How could I forget?”

As you make your way inside, greeting guests and answering questions, Charles finds himself reflecting on the journey that brought you both to this moment. The ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs, all leading to this day.

A familiar face approaches — Federica, the journalist who had interviewed Charles after that fateful race five years ago. “Charles, Y/N,” she greets you warmly. “Congratulations on this amazing achievement. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

You nod, your professional demeanor sliding into place. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

“This center is quite different from the usual celebrity charity projects,” Federica begins. “Can you tell me what inspired you to take such a hands-on approach?”

You and Charles share a look, silently deciding who should answer. Charles gives a small nod, encouraging you to take the lead.

“For us, this isn’t about charity in the traditional sense,” you explain. “It’s about using our resources and platform to create real, tangible change. As a survivor myself, I know firsthand how crucial legal support can be in escaping an abusive situation. But I also know how intimidating and overwhelming the legal system can seem.”

Charles watches as you speak, marveling at your eloquence and passion. He remembers the early days of your relationship, when you would sometimes struggle to find your voice. Now, you command the room with ease.

“Our goal with this center,” you continue, “is to provide comprehensive support — legal aid, counseling, practical assistance — all under one roof. We want to remove as many barriers as possible for those seeking help.”

Federica nods, scribbling in her notepad. “And Charles,” she turns to him, “how do you see your role in all of this?”

Charles straightens, his expression serious. “My role is to support this center and its mission in every way I can. Whether that’s using my platform to raise awareness, helping to secure funding, or simply being here to show that everyone can and should be allies in this fight against domestic violence.”

You reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze. Charles feels a surge of gratitude for your unwavering support, both in this project and in his career.

“And how do you balance this work with racing?” Federica asks.

Charles smiles. “It’s all about priorities. Racing is my passion, but this center, and the work we do here, that’s my purpose. I’m fortunate to have a team and sponsors who understand and support that.”

As Federica thanks the two of you and moves on to speak with other guests, Charles turns to you. “You were amazing,” he says softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

You lean into him slightly, a soft smile playing at your lips. “We were amazing,” you correct him. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Before Charles can respond, another guest approaches, asking for a tour of the facilities. As you lead the way, explaining the various services the center will offer, Charles hangs back slightly, simply observing.

He watches as you point out the private consultation rooms, the children’s play area designed to make the center welcoming for families, the state-of-the-art security systems put in place to ensure client safety. Your eyes light up as you describe the pro bono legal services, the partnerships with local shelters and support groups, the education and prevention programs you hope to implement.

In this moment, seeing you in your element, Charles is struck anew by how far you’ve both come. From that terrifying night in the paddock to this day of hope and new beginnings, it’s been a journey neither of you could have anticipated.

As the day winds down and the last of the guests depart, Charles finds you standing in the main reception area, looking around with a mix of awe and determination.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You lean into him, letting out a contented sigh. “I was just thinking about all the lives we’re going to change here. All the people we’re going to help.”

Charles presses a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already changed so many lives, you know. Including mine.”

You turn to face him, your eyes shining with love and gratitude. “We’ve changed each other’s lives. And now we get to pay it forward.”

As Charles looks at you, his partner in every sense of the word, he knows that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. Just as you always have.

“Ready to go home?” He asks softly.

You nod, taking one last look around the center. “Yes,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination. “But we’ll be back bright and early tomorrow. We’ve got work to do.”

Charles smiles, taking your hand as you walk towards the exit. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[thelaughingmerman]

Came an inch- literally an inch- away from hitting someone today (actually me like I definitely would have been at fault). I checked before ei merged but didn't double check (we were both going like under 10 so it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world but still). We both stopped and agreed the crunch noise we heard was the slam of brakes on wet asphalt because the cars looked fine. Drove away on good terms. 👍

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - The Almost Kiss

Requested: yes

Prompt: Lando is out for the season and catches feeling for his replacement

Warnings: nope

Y/n jolted awake to the buzzing of her phone on the bedside table, the sound pulling her out of a deep sleep. Her hand fumbled for it, and when she finally answered, the grogginess was replaced with confusion. "Hello, Y/n." She mumbled. "Y/n, it’s Andrea. You need to come to the McLaren factory. Immediately." Her heart raced. She wasn’t used to getting calls this early in the morning. What could possibly be happening? Y/n was a reserve driver, sure, but there hadn’t been any news of anything happening to the main drivers. "Yeah, I'll get dressed and be in soon."

Half-dressed, still trying to wake up fully, she rushed to the factory, nerves on edge. By the time she arrived, her mind was racing with possibilities. When she stepped inside, the atmosphere felt tense, and she spotted Zak waiting for her. "Y/n." Zak started as soon as she was within earshot. "What's happening?" Y/n asked as Zak put his arm around her to lead her up towards the meeting rooms. "Lando’s out. He’s had an accident, nothing too serious, but enough to sideline him for the rest of the season." Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, how's that happened?" Zak rubbed his forehead. "He was out last night, partying because of his first win, took a fall, broke his tibia. We’ve had it confirmed that he won’t be able to drive for the rest of the season."

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. This was it, this was her chance. But the weight of the situation also sank in. Lando was injured, and she was being thrown into one of the biggest opportunities of her career. "We need you to step up." Zak continued, his voice firm but encouraging. "You’ll be taking Lando’s place. Effective immediately." She nodded, adrenaline pumping. This was what she had trained for, but the circumstances made it feel surreal. She was going to be one of McLaren’s main drivers.

The next few days were a whirlwind. Hours in the simulator, endless debriefs, and preparing for her first race as the primary driver. Every evening, Y/n found herself staying late, pushing herself in the simulator, wanting to prove she was ready for the challenge.

One evening, as she was deeply immersed in the simulation, the door to the room creaked open. She glanced up to see Lando standing there in a set of crutches, but a smile on his face. "Aren't you meant to be in a wheelchair for a while?" Y/n asked. "Yeah, but I like walking around on my one leg." He replied. "So you're a cripple then?" Lando laughed as he hobbled over towards the side of the simulator. "Need some help?" He asked casually. Y/n blinked, surprised. "You sure? I know you have to go to rehabilitation training and physio and-" Lando chuckled. "Yeah, well, I’ve got time. And besides, I figured I could help coach you a bit. You know, since I’ve been around for a while." Y/n smiled gratefully. "I’d appreciate that."

For the next few hours, Lando stood in the race engineer box of the simulator, giving tips and feedback, helping her adjust to the intricacies of McLaren’s car. His advice was invaluable, but more than that, it was nice to have him there calm, supportive, and surprisingly humble.

As the weeks passed, they grew closer. Between races and simulator sessions, they began to spend more time together. It started with casual meals in the motorhome, sharing laughs about life on the circuit, and then evenings spent debriefing together. The more time they spent with each other, the more their friendship deepened, and Y/n couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to be around him. It wasn’t long before she found herself in Monaco with him, where he had invited her to move into his place, just to make things easier between races. What had started as a practical arrangement became something much more meaningful. They would cook together, joke around, and occasionally sit in comfortable silence, watching the sunset over the harbor.

One of the first mornings she had spent in her bew apartment, Y/n had barely stirred from her peaceful slumber when a knock echoed through her apartment. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The world outside was only starting to light up as the sun rose over the principality through her blinds. She glanced at her phone. 7:00 AM? Who could that be? Reluctantly, she slid out of bed, tugging a hoodie over her sleep shirt as she padded barefoot toward the door. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

"I'm coming, hold on." She mumbled under her breath, unlocking the door and swinging it open. To her surprise, standing on the other side of the threshold was none other than Lando, looking fresh despite the ungodly hour. He offered her a crooked grin, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. "Lando?" She asked in disbelief, her voice still thick with sleep. "How on earth did you get up here?" He gave a nonchalant shrug, his boyish grin widening. "The lift."

"Obviously." She deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. "But why? And why are you knocking on my door at-" She glanced at her phone again. "7 AM?" Lando shifted on his feet, looking almost sheepish for a moment. "I have a rehab session and I really don't want to go alone. Thought maybe you'd want to tag along?" His eyes met hers with a hopeful glint. Y/n blinked, processing his request. "You came all the way here just to ask me to go to rehab with you?"

"Well, yeah. Plus, I needed a ride." His grin turned cheeky, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes, though the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Lando, you have a whole team of people at your disposal. You could’ve called one of them."

"Yeah, but they're not you." He said with a smirk, and something in his casual tone made her heart skip a beat. "So, you coming or what?" He asked. "What's in it for me?" She challenged, letting him in. "A stop at the cafe du Paris if you get me to physio on time." Y/n sighed, shaking her head in amused disbelief. "Alright, alright. Let me get changed. Give me five minutes." Lando slumped down onto her sofa. "You're the best."

She quickly disappeared back into her room, rifling through her drawers for something more appropriate than her pajamas. As she threw on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Lando showing up out of the blue like this wasn’t exactly unusual—it was one of the things she liked about their friendship. He was spontaneous, always keeping her on her toes. Within minutes, Y/n was ready, grabbing her keys and slipping on a pair of sneakers as she met Lando by the door. He was already scrolling through his phone, humming under his breath.

"Let's go." She said, as Lando turned and hobled out the door. "Jesus, mate. You need to get out of these crutches, it's scaring away all the women." She joked. "Chick's dig this." Labdo replied. "I must be immune, Norris." They headed down the hallway and into the lift, Lando still chatting away about his recent races and how his shoulder injury was making training a nightmare. Y/n listened with a fond smile, appreciating how comfortable their conversations always were. It didn’t matter that it was now half 7 in the morning, and she hadn’t had her coffee yet; being around him always had a way of brightening her day. Once they reached the car, she slid into the driver’s seat, glancing over at him. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"Of course." Lando said, buckling in. "It's just rehab. But I appreciate you coming with me." Y/n nodded as she started the engine, pulling out of the parking garage. The early morning streets were quiet, making the drive peaceful. The two of them fell into easy conversation, and before she knew it, they were pulling up to his physios home. Lando turned to her as they parked. "Thanks for this, really. You didn’t have to."

"I know." She replied with a soft smile. "That's what makes me so nice." He returned her smile, lingering for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. "Oh, the bestest ever." He replied mockingly.

The teasing,the coffees, it was all just part of this great friendship they had going on. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a growing tension. Unspoken feelings hung in the air between them, but neither dared to address it.

One race weekend, however, everything changed. Y/n had been hit with a penalty that she fiercely believed was unjust. After a heated argument with the stewards, she was slapped with a fine, and her frustration boiled over. Storming out of the stewards’ room, she avoided everyone, ignoring the calls from the press. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, let alone deal with interviews. She locked herself in her driver room, letting the anger simmer as she paced the small space. A knock came at the door.

"I'm not doing press today guys!" She shouted, her voice still edged with anger. There was a pause, and then a familiar voice replied. "It’s me." Her heart skipped a beat. It was Lando. Hesitant, she walked over and unlocked the door. He stepped inside, his expression soft, understanding. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, closing the door behind him. Y/n huffed, her hands running through her hair. "I just… I can’t believe this. That penalty wasn’t fair, and now I have to deal with a fine on top of it." Lando watched her for a moment, then stepped closer. "I get it. I’ve been there before. But you need to calm down, or it’ll just eat at you."

Y/n turned to him, her frustration still evident, but his presence was oddly comforting. There was a silence between them as they stood close, neither knowing what to say next. The tension from the room seemed to shift, no longer about the race or the penalty. They gazed at each other, the air between them thick with something unspoken. Slowly, they leaned in, the distance between them closing. But just before their lips could meet, there was another knock at the door. Y/n jerked back, startled. "Interviews, Y/n. You need to go." Came the voice from the other side of the door. Her heart racing, Y/n glanced at Lando, her mind spinning. Without another word, she bolted for the door, leaving Lando behind.

As she rushed to the media area, her thoughts were a whirlwind. Was Lando in love with her? Did she feel the same way? She couldn’t stop replaying that almost-kiss in her mind. Meanwhile, Lando stayed back in her room, wondering the exact same thing.

[the-winter-spider]

Never Enough | B.Barnes

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, comfort idk

Masterlist

—

The mission had been textbook so far, each Avenger playing their part with precision and skill. You moved through the chaos with a focused intensity, your grey-hued powers crackling around your hands as you deflected incoming attacks and shielded your teammates. The battlefield was a blur of noise and movement, but you were in the zone, you always were every action calculated to protect those around you, no one would ever get hurt because of you again.

Sam was high in the sky, engaged in an aerial battle with a group of enemy drones, when you spotted something he didn’t, a sniper, hidden on a distant rooftop, aimed directly at him “Sam!” You yelled through the comms, when all you heard was static you muttered to yourself “shit shit shit”

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the glint of the scope, without a second thought, you threw herself into action, your powers surging as you manipulated the grey energy to redirect the bullet.

The energy crackled and hissed as it wrapped around the speeding projectile, altering its course just enough to avoid a fatal shot, but in the process, you lost control for a split second, and the bullet grazed your ear, tearing through flesh before embedding harmlessly in a nearby wall.

You stumbled slightly from the impact, your hand instinctively reaching up to the side of your head, when you pulled it away, your fingers were slick with blood. The warm liquid began to trickle down your face, but you pushed the pain aside, focusing on the relief that Sam was still in the sky, unharmed.

The mission wrapped up quickly after that, the team neutralising the last of their enemies. As they regrouped, Bucky’s sharp eyes zeroed in on you, and his stomach dropped when he saw the blood staining the side of your face.

“Doll?!” he called out, rushing over to you. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he tilted your chin to get a better look at the wound “You’re bleeding.”

You winced slightly at his touch but managed a small, reassuring smile “It’s just a graze, Bucky, I’m fine”

“Fine?” he repeated, his voice tinged with panic “You’re bleeding all over the place” his hands touching you all over, eyes racking your body to make sure it was the only one.

You gently pulled his hand away from you, giving him a firm look, still holding his hand in yours squeezing it “It’s fine, really. Sam’s okay, and that’s what matters”

As if on cue, Sam landed beside them, his wings retracting as he touched down. He noticed the blood immediately, his eyes widening in shock. “Y/N, what the hell happened?”

You waved it off as if it were nothing, because it was nothing “Just a little sniper action, I saw the shot coming your way and redirected it, no big deal” You shrugged

Sam’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on her shoulder “Thank you, I didn’t even see it coming… you saved my life”

You could feel his eyes peering into the side of your head, as if he was trying to see into your head and what you were actually thinking and what you were actually feeling. Before Bucky could protest further, the rest of the team gathered around, assessing the situation.

Natasha gave Y/N a once-over, her eyes lingering on the blood before nodding approvingly “Nice work out there.”

“Yeah, way to keep Sam in one piece,” Clint added with a grin.

You smiled, though the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the pain was becoming harder to ignore. Bucky noticed the way your smile faltered, but before he could press you to get checked out, Tony’s voice came over the comms, the ones that were finally working.

“Alright, team, let’s pack it up and head back to the Compound. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief as they headed to the jet. You knew Bucky was worried, but you couldn’t let him fuss over you right now. The wound was minor, and all that mattered was that all of you were heading home, all of them, your family…. alive.

The flight back to the Compound was uneventful, the team settling into a comfortable silence as they let the exhaustion of the mission sink in. You sat beside Bucky, leaning your head against the cool window, ignoring the throbbing on the side of your head. You could feel Bucky’s concerned gaze on you, but you kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep to avoid another confrontation.

When they landed, the team made their way to the common area, still buzzing with post-mission energy. Tony had ordered dinner, and they all gathered around the large table, digging into the food that was quickly delivered. The atmosphere was light, everyone enjoying the rare moment of relaxation.

As they ate, Tony cleared his throat, drawing the group’s attention “Before we all dig into dessert, I’ve got something to say.”

The room quieted as everyone looked at him expectantly.

“I was going over the mission logs today,” Tony continued, a playful smirk on his face. “And it turns out that our very own Y/N here has officially been on more missions than anyone else on the team this year.”

You blinked in surprise, your fork pausing mid-air. The rest of the team looked at you with varying degrees of shock and admiration.

“Wait, seriously?” Bruce asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Y/N joined after most of us,” Natasha added, her tone impressed.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of pride and concern flickering in his gaze. He knew how driven you were, but hearing that you had been on the most missions—despite the risks you took—made his heart clench. It made someone chun inside of him, he felt uneasy and nauseous. He knew you had baggage, dark shadows lurking behind you, almost everyone on the team did but this felt different.

You shifted uncomfortably under the attention, forcing a smile as you shrugged, trying to brush off the unwanted attention “Just trying to keep up with the rest of you.”

Tony raised his glass in a mock toast. “Well, here’s to Y/N—the MVP of the team. Just try not to hog all the action next year.”

Everyone chuckled, raising their glasses in her honour. You smiled, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the day and the worried look in Bucky’s eyes.

As the night wore on, you found yourself standing on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You needed a moment alone to process everything—the wound, the mission, and the weight of Tony’s announcement.

As the night wore on, you found yourself standing on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You needed a moment alone to process everything-the wound, the mission, and the weight of Tony's announcement.

But you weren't alone for long. Bucky found you, as he always did, quietly joining you, his presence a comforting warmth in the darkness.

"Sweetheart," he began, his voice low as he reached for you, brushing the hair off your face. His fingers lingered near the now bandaged wound. "You've got to stop doing this to yourself."

You didn't turn to face him, your gaze fixed on the stars above. "I'm fine, Buck... really."

He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your arm, his grip firm but tender, trying to keep his frustration in check. "I'm not just talking about today, you're pushing yourself too hard…you're getting hurt too often. I know this seems minor to you, but... you're everything to me, doll, I can't-" He cut himself off, swallowing hard.

You finally turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his, the weight of his words settling in your chest. "I have to, Bucky. I can't stop, not when there's so much at stake”

He sighed, his expression tight with frustration, pain clouding his usually soft gaze."You don't have to do it all alone, we're a team. You've got us-you've got me…you always have me”

For a moment, you just stood there, the unspoken tension between you heavy in the air. You wanted to argue, to tell him that you needed to keep going, to keep saving lives. But the concern in his eyes, the desperation in his voice, made it harder to deny that maybe, just maybe, you were running yourself into the ground.

"I know you're trying to help," you said softly, your voice trembling as you searched for the right words. "But I don't know how to stop... I don't know how to just... be."

Bucky's face softened, and he pulled you closer, his arms

wrapping around you as if he could shield you from everything. "You don't have to have it all figured out right now. We'll take it slow, okay? You don't have to do this”

But even as you stood there in his embrace, a part of you resisted. You couldn't shake the feeling that slowing down, letting go, meant giving up some part of yourself. And that terrified you.

You pulled away from him, your heart pounding in your chest as a sudden wave of frustration surged inside you. "You don't get it, Bucky," you said, your voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "If I stop-if I take a break-then what am I even here for? All I have is the next mission, the next chance to save someone else."

Bucky's brow furrowed, his hands hovering near you, unsure whether to reach for you again. "That's not true…you're here because you matter, because we matter. You're not just some weapon to be used over and over”

You shook your head, stepping back as the anger and pain you'd been suppressing for so long started to spill over. "I can't just stop, okay? You don't understand what it's like, knowing that no matter what I do, it'll never be enough to erase what happened." He had his own demons, you knew that, he knew that. You knew he knew what it felt like, that no matter how much good you did, you could never erase the past.

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asked, his voice quiet, pleading "Enough for what?"

"My family," you snapped, the words tearing out of you like a wound being ripped open. "I killed them, Bucky. I was supposed to protect them, and I didn't. I couldn't." Your voice broke, and you took in a shaky breath, tears burning in your eyes. "No matter how many lives I save, it won't bring them back. It won't make up for what I did."

The silence that followed was deafening. Bucky stared at you, his expression stricken, as if he could feel the weight of your pain pressing down on him too. His voice, when he spoke, was raw and filled with emotion. "You were a kid... You couldn't control it. How could you blame yourself for that?"

"Because who else is there to blame?" you cried, your voice cracking with the intensity of your grief. "I'm the one who's supposed to have control. I'm the one with these powers, and I couldn't – didn't save them….and now, I have to keep going because if I don't... if I stop..."

"If you stop, what?" Bucky's voice was sharp now, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You think you'll suddenly fall apart? You think it'll undo everything you've done, everything you've fought for?"

You wiped at your eyes angrily, turning away from him. "Maybe….Maybe I deserve to fall apart. Maybe I should."

"Stop," he said, stepping forward, his voice firm, a thread of anger creeping into it. "You're punishing yourself, and it's not helping anyone, least of all you."

You spun back around, the heat of your emotions pushing you beyond the point of caring. "And what if I am? What if this is the only way I know how to keep going?"

Bucky's face hardened, the pain in his eyes replaced with something colder, something distant. "You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up and I can't stand by and watch you do that!”

"Then don't!" you yelled, your chest heaving as the words tumbled out before you could stop them. "If it's so hard for you, then just leave, Bucky! I'm used to being alone."

His silence was like a slap in the face. For a moment, you thought he might actually walk away, that you had finally pushed him too far.

But when he spoke, his voice was quiet, devastated. "You really think l'd leave you? After everything?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of your own words sinking in, but the anger and the pain wouldn't let you stop. "Maybe you should…maybe it would be easier for both of us."

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes shining with hurt. "If that's what you want."

You felt the sting of your own words twisting in your chest, regret pooling in your stomach. But it was too late now. The damage was done, you couldn't take it back.

Without another word, Bucky turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each one echoing like a hammer in your chest.

And when the door finally closed behind him, the quiet that followed was suffocating. The stars above you blurred as the tears finally fell, but this time, there was no one there to hold you together.

You were alone. Just like you always feared you would be.

After the door closed behind him, you stood frozen, your breath caught in your throat. The silence was heavy, thick with the weight of words you couldn’t take back. The pain in Bucky’s eyes haunted you, replaying in your mind like a broken record.

You leaned against the balcony railing, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. The cold wind stung against the cut on your ear, but the physical pain was a dull ache compared to the emotional wreckage inside of you.

“I did it again,” you whispered to yourself, your voice shaky, broken. “I pushed him away.”

You thought back to the mission, to the moment you’d saved Sam without thinking of yourself. That was who you were, wasn’t it? Someone who always threw themselves in harm’s way, someone who believed their life was a bargaining chip to protect others. But with Bucky…it was different. He didn’t need saving. He needed you to let him in, and you couldn’t.

The stars blurred as more tears filled your eyes. All you could see was the look of betrayal on Bucky’s face as he turned to leave.

Maybe you were too far gone. Maybe the weight of your past, of your guilt, was too much for anyone to carry, even Bucky. He’d seen the worst of you, and now, maybe he’d finally had enough.

You choked back a sob, the hollow emptiness in your chest growing, threatening to swallow you whole. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you fought to hold yourself together, but it was no use. The cracks were already showing.

And in the quiet of the night, with nothing but the stars and your own racing thoughts, you wondered if you’d pushed the one person who could understand you too far. If you’d finally driven him away for good.

The door didn’t open again.

You were alone. Truly, completely alone. And the worst part was, it felt like you deserved it. Because you did.

You stayed there, staring at the night sky as if the stars could offer answers, but all they did was remind you of how small and insignificant everything felt. The wind howled through the silence, and your body shook—whether from the cold or from the emotions tearing you apart, you weren’t sure.

Suddenly, the door creaked open again, and for a moment, your heart leapt, thinking Bucky had come back. But when you heard the familiar sound of soft footsteps, you realised it was someone else.

“You okay?” Natasha’s voice was quiet, cautious.

You didn’t turn around, wiping at your eyes quickly to hide the tears “Yeah… just needed some air.”

Natasha came to stand beside you, leaning her elbows on the railing, her sharp eyes scanning your face even though you refused to meet them. “You know, you’re a terrible liar”

You huffed a humourless laugh, the sound bitter in your throat. “Guess I am”

Natasha sighed softly, leaning in closer. “I heard what happened… between you and Bucky, i didn't mean to eavesdrop ”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening at the mention of his name “Yeah, well, it’s my fault. I pushed him away, that’s what I do.”

Natasha tilted her head, her gaze softer than usual. “You think pushing people away makes you stronger, but it’s only making you more vulnerable”

You stared at the ground, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m too broken to fix? What if I ruin everything I touch?”

Natasha straightened, her expression turning serious. “You’re not broken, Y/N. You’re hurting but there’s a difference.”

You shook your head, your fingers tightening around the railing “You didn’t see the look on his face when I practically told him to leave….and he did.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her voice sharp but not unkind. “Bucky’s not the type to give up easily, especially when it comes to you, he loves you so much…He’ll come back, but you have to let him in. You can’t keep shutting him out, or one day… he might not come back”

You finally looked at her, your eyes brimming with unshed tears “What if it’s too late?”

Natasha shook her head. “It’s not too late..not unless you let it be”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to break down again. “I don’t know how to stop, Nat. I don’t know how to stop blaming myself.”

Natasha placed a hand on your arm, her grip firm, grounding you. “You have to forgive yourself, you weren’t responsible for what happened to your family and you’re not responsible for everything that goes wrong in the world, You’ve done more than enough.”

You felt the weight of her words, but they seemed so far away from what you felt in your chest. “I don’t know if I can.”

Natasha’s eyes softened again. “Then let us help you, let Bucky help you..that’s what he wants and its what you need”

You looked away, your voice small and fragile. “I’m afraid I’ll lose him, I’m afraid I’ll lose all of you.”

Natasha squeezed your arm gently. “You won’t, but if you keep pushing us away, you’re only going to lose yourself”

For a long moment, you stood in silence, her words sinking in. The night air felt a little colder, but her presence grounded you, reminded you that you weren’t alone—even if it felt that way.

Finally, you nodded, barely a whisper escaping your lips. “I don’t know how to fix this, Nat.”

Natasha gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to fix everything, Y/N. Sometimes, you just have to let people be there for you”

You stood there for a moment longer, Natasha’s words hanging in the air like a lifeline. She was right. You didn’t have to fix everything alone, and Bucky—he wouldn’t give up on you that easily.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to her. “Thanks, Nat… I think I need to talk to him”

Natasha gave you a knowing smile, her eyes softening. “Go…He’s probably waiting for you.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way inside. The hallways of the Compound were quiet, the hum of the place barely a whisper against the tension knotting in your stomach. You weren’t sure where he had gone, but you knew Bucky—he would seek solitude, someplace quiet to think.

Heading toward the common area, you peeked around the corners until you found him sitting on the couch, his back turned to you. His posture was tense, shoulders hunched forward as he stared blankly at the wall. The sight of him like that—silent and still—made your chest ache. You hated seeing him hurt, especially when it was your words that had caused it.

You took a tentative step forward, clearing your throat softly. “Bucky?”

His shoulders tensed at the sound of your voice, but he didn’t turn around. For a moment, you feared he might stay silent, that you had pushed him too far. But then, he sighed, his voice low and filled with emotion “What do you want, Y/N?”

Your heart clenched, and you took a deep breath before stepping closer. “I… I just wanted to apologise for what I said earlier”

Bucky’s head tilted slightly, but he still didn’t turn around “You told me to leave, so I did.”

You winced at the pain in his voice, the weight of your own words crashing over you again “I didn’t mean it, Buck…I was just… scared. Of losing you, of everything”

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you like a chasm you were desperate to cross. Finally, Bucky spoke, his voice quiet but laced with vulnerability. “I know you’re scared, but so am I.”

You blinked in surprise, stepping even closer now, your hand reaching out hesitant to touch his shoulder “You’re scared?”

He finally turned to face you, his blue eyes soft and filled with a raw emotion that made your breath hitch. “Of course I am, every time I see you throw yourself into danger like that, I’m terrified I’m going to lose you. You keep pushing yourself too hard, Y/N, and it’s killing me. You mean everything to me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away. “Bucky… I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how much I was hurting you.”

He stood up then, towering over you but not in an intimidating way. His presence was warm, comforting, and despite everything, you felt safe with him. He reached out slowly, brushing his fingers against your cheek as if testing the waters “I just want you to be okay, doll…that’s all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all i ever want”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes searching his, the sincerity of his words making your heart ache. “I don’t want to push you away. I just… I’ve been running for so long, I didn’t know how to stop.”

Bucky’s thumb gently traced along your cheek, his touch soft and reassuring “Then stop running, sweetheart. Let me be there for you”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you reached up to place your hand over his. “I don’t want to be alone, not anymore.”

Bucky’s face softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you like a protective shield. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.

“You’ll never be alone,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Not as long as I’m here”

You squeezed him tighter, feeling the weight of your fears slowly melt away in his embrace. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you didn’t have to carry everything on your own.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up, his eyes filled with so much warmth it made your heart flutter. “Anytime, doll. You’re stuck with me now.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you, the tension between you both easing as his lips curled into a playful smile. “Good, I think I like being stuck with you.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips. It was soft and gentle, like he was afraid of breaking the moment, but it sent warmth flooding through your body.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice a soft whisper. “I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart soared at his words, and you smiled up at him, finally allowing yourself to let go of all the fear and doubt. “I love you too, Bucky…. More than you’ll ever know.”

Bucky’s eyes shone with affection, and he kissed you again, this time deeper, more passionate. The world around you faded away, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

In his arms, you weren’t broken, you weren’t alone. You were whole. And that was more than enough.

[bennyboyfics]

Unexpected || Ben Shelton x fem!reader

Summary: you finding out you’re pregnant just as Ben has started his professional career in Tennis and being scared to tell him.

Wc: 1,301

Warnings: mention of pregnancy

A/n: if you have any requests feel free to send them thru!

MASTERLIST

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Your hands trembled as you sat in the stands, your fingers curled tightly around the fabric of your dress. The match was nearly over, Ben battling it out in the final set, sweat dripping from his forehead as he let out a sharp grunt with each shot. The crowd roared when he hit an ace, his signature power serve sending the ball flying past his opponent. You should have been cheering, should have been celebrating every point he won.

But all you could feel was the crushing weight of the secret sitting in your chest. Pregnant. You were pregnant. The two pink lines had stared back at you this morning, and you’d felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You and Ben were still so young. He was only just getting started on the ATP tour, making a name for himself, proving to the world that he belonged at the top.

A baby was never part of the plan—not yet, not now. Your stomach churned as you imagined telling him. Would he be upset? Would he panic? Would he see this as something that could ruin his career? The thought alone made you sick. Ben let out a victorious yell as he won the match, his fist pumping in the air as the crowd erupted. He ran to the net for a handshake before glancing up into the stands, his eyes immediately finding you.

His face lit up, that boyish grin of his breaking through the exhaustion as he pointed at you, like he always did after a win. But you couldn’t even force a smile. By the time you made it down to the player’s lounge, your legs felt unsteady. Ben was mid-interview, his damp curls sticking to his forehead, his voice animated as he spoke about the match. His energy was infectious, and usually, you loved seeing him like this—so happy, so in his element.

Tonight, though, you felt like you were on the verge of crumbling. The second he spotted you, he grinned and excused himself from the interview, striding over and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. His skin was hot from the match, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. “Did you see that tiebreak?” he asked, still slightly breathless. “I thought I was gonna lose my damn mind out there.” You nodded weakly. “Yeah, I saw.”

Ben frowned, pulling back just enough to study your face. “What’s wrong?” His voice softened, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You look… off. You feel okay?” Your throat closed up. You wanted to tell him. You needed to. But the words felt stuck. Ben tilted his head. “Baby?” “I—I need to talk to you,” you finally managed to say. “Can we go somewhere private?” That had him looking at you more seriously.

“Of course. Let me grab my bag, and we’ll head back to the hotel.” The car ride was silent. Ben kept glancing at you, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel, but he didn’t push. He could tell something was weighing on you, but he was patient, waiting for you to be ready. By the time you got back to the hotel room, your nerves were shot. You stood by the window, staring out at the city lights, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You felt Ben’s presence before he even touched you, his warmth radiating as he stepped behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “Alright, baby,” he murmured. “Talk to me.” Your heart pounded as you turned around. His eyes—warm, brown, so full of love—searched yours, his brows furrowed in concern. You took a shaky breath. “I—I’m pregnant.” The words felt foreign coming out of your mouth, like they belonged to someone else.

Ben just stared at you. The silence stretched so long it made your stomach twist, and panic bubbled up inside you. You rushed to fill the space, your words tumbling out in a nervous ramble. “I know this wasn’t supposed to happen right now. I know you have your whole career ahead of you, and we’re still so young, and I—” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or like this was going to mess up everything you’ve worked for.”

Ben blinked, like he was trying to process everything, and your chest tightened at his lack of reaction. Then, suddenly, he exhaled a sharp breath and ran a hand through his curls. “Holy shit.” Your stomach dropped. “Ben—” “Holy shit,” he said again, before shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Then, without warning, he laughed—a short, incredulous sound—and looked at you with something unreadable in his expression.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated, like he needed to say it out loud to believe it. Tears burned in your eyes as you nodded. Ben’s face softened, and before you could react, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost knocked the air out of you. “Baby,” he murmured against your hair. “Why the hell were you so scared to tell me?” Tears slipped down your cheeks. “Because… I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.

Ben pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. “I mean, yeah, it’s a shock. And it’s scary as hell. But we’re in this together.” His thumb brushed away your tears. “I love you. That’s not changing just because this happened sooner than we expected.” Your lip trembled. “You’re not… mad?”Ben huffed a soft laugh. “Nah, baby. I mean, damn, I didn’t think I’d be a dad this soon, but…” He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you. And if we’re having a baby, then that just means I’ve got even more to fight for.” A sob escaped you, but this time, it wasn’t out of fear. It was relief. Ben kissed you deeply, his lips lingering against yours. “We’ll figure this out. Together.” And for the first time all day, you actually believed it.

[possessiveandobsessive]

Another Lucanis Obsessed Post

It's only a problem if we call it that...

**Spoilers for late game events in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. If you havent finished and care about being spoiled, stay away!**

Something I think about a lot is Lucanis's reaction to Rook being pulled into the fade after they kill Ghilan'nain. This kind of scene is definitely making it into my current work, but I need to get it out of my brain.

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

Lucanis is riding a magnificent high for all of a minute. He just killed one of his two targets. A GOD. Finally, he completed the contract that slipped through his fingers so narrowly last time. He has this blissful, thrill of adrenaline singing through his veins. And then, it's all gone in an instant.

The hot blood that had been rushing through his limbs following his vistory turns to ice at once when he realizes: she is gone. The woman who had believed in him from the start. The one person who never once had looked at him with disgust or fear. The woman who had only just broken through the last of his walls and now held his heart. Lucanis can see her smile, can see her head thrown back in laughter at some silly comment he made. And then he watches as all that fades out of his view. She was GONE, and she took his heart, his soul with her. He never got the chance to tell her...

Lucanis can faintly hear a raw, primal, and broken wail. It sounds distant at first, before he realizes it's coming from him. The agonized scream tears from his chest violently without him even realizing. An enraged chant fills his mind and blinds him to his surroundings. His vision fills with only a blinding purple light and all he can hear, all he can think is, "GONE. TAKEN. GONE. LOST. OURS. OUR ROOK IS GONE. MUST GET HER, MUST SAVE HER, MUST HAVE HIS BLOOD. GONE. GONE...."

The chanting, screaming really, continues over and over. Each word caused pain anew to cut through him like a blade. He had already lost everything, become a monster, and now he was losing the one thing that kept him tethered to this reality. She was the one thing that made him feel human. Rook trusted him even when he couldn't yet trust himself. And the elven god of lies and betrayal had just stolen her from him.

Lucanis was dimly aware of shouts directed at him and hands pulling at his arms and shoulders. The team must be trying to stop him from completely destroying, leveling, everything in his immediate vicinity. All he knew now was this pain fueled rampage. Their pain fueled rampage. Spite and he are currently of one mind. They always are when it comes to Rook.

Suddenly, he feels a wave of magic wash over his body. Lucanis shudders as his bones seem to turn to liquid and his body begins to feel as of it weighed thousands of pounds. His eyes were closing against his will, and he could hear Spite's screams grow more desperate as they both were pulled under into a deep nothing. The last conscious thought Lucanis had was of her face, terrified and screaming his name as she disappeared in a flash of light.

I will find you Rook, NOTHING CAN KEEP YOU FROM US....

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

You're welcome for the devastation! If it lives in my head rent free then it also gets to live in yours 🥲 Look forward to a more fleshed out version of this scene later in my current work in process: The Spirit of Determination.

[twirlywhirlywriting]

Consequences of Being a Brat

Eddie Munson Fic Incoming!

NSFW 18+, Minors DNI! Okay so this one is… whoo. A lot more intense than my previous fics. I know I said my next fic would be with Clarke Griffin from The 100 but I got smacked in the face with inspiration for this so, here you go. This fic is purely self indulgent and I pretty much made it just for my own desire BUT I am sure all you dom!Eddie lovers out there will enjoy it too. I honestly have no clue if The Magic Wand existed in the 80’s but for the sake of this fic, it absolutely did. The ending is super fluffy so please stick around for it too! Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed this, it would mean the whole entire world to me!

Word Count: 9,016

Warnings:NSFW 18+, Angst (very slight), Smut, Fluff, AFAB Reader, Aftercare, BratTamer!Eddie, Brat!Reader, Breath Play (one time near the end), Bondage, Biting, Potential CNC? (honestly I’m not sure if it is or not. Reader doesn’t want to accept punishment but it’s all a part of their brat/tamer dynamic and consensual, but as always, read at your own risk), Choking, Crying During Aftercare, Dom!Eddie, Degradation, Dacryphilia, Eventual Submission, Extreme Sensitivity, Face Slapping (Only a couple of times and it is not extreme), Forced Orgasms, Fingering, Humiliation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Oral Sex (f and m receiving), Orgasm Control and Denial, Punishment, P-in-V (unprotected, wrap it up irl folks), Rough Sex, Sub!Reader, Spanking, Swearing, Squirting, Subspace (mentions of, it’s not super deep), Vibrators

Idk I feel like I overdo it with warnings sometimes but I want you to be able to read at your own risk and avoid your own triggers, I do not want my writing to cause harm! Only horniness and happy feelings! Anywho, here is my newest fic and I really hope you all love it!

Consequences of Being a Brat

The stage lights focused, the crowd hushed, and the electric hum of anticipation filled the air. Eddie Munson, with his shaggy brown hair cascading over his shoulders, stood center stage. His fingers started strumming his electric guitar as Corroded Coffin launched into their first song. In the sea of people, Eddie scanned the crowd, looking for one face in particular–yours. You never missed a single concert, and tonight shouldn’t have been any different. But tonight, no matter how hard he searched, you were nowhere to be found. 

Where the hell is she? He thought to himself. As the concert reached its crescendo, Eddie’s mind wandered, his performance slightly faltering. Once the last note echoed through the quarry, Eddie rushed offstage. His heart pounded with a mix of post-performance adrenaline and concern for where you could be. 

Back at home, I was absolutely fine. My coworker at the bakery asked me to pick up their shift, so I was working overtime and honestly forgot about the concert tonight. I was laying on the couch, lounging in Eddie’s Hellfire club shirt and black cotton panties while watching some cheesy horror flick. I was just about to get up from the couch to call in for a pizza delivery, when Eddie crashed through the door. 

He looks absolutely frantic, making me feel instantly guilty. I totally forgot to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to make the concert tonight. Fuck. “Eddie, I’m so sorry! I had to cover Emily’s shift tonight and I completely forgot to let you know I wasn’t going to make it. I feel terrible.”  I stand up to give him a hug, he looks like he needs it.

Eddie’s frustration softens, but is still very present. “You just forgot to tell me? I was worried sick, baby. I thought you were hurt.” He hugs me back tightly, before sighing and letting me go.

“I know, I know, Eddie. I’m sorry,” I say, stepping back as he runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. One of the rings on his fingers gets stuck in his hair and as he is figuring out how to get it un-stuck, I can’t help but giggle.

His head immediately snaps to look at me, questioning, “What’s so funny?” 

I try not to, but I can’t hold back another giggle. “I can’t help it, you looked so worried.. It was kind of cute.” I know this conversation will get me nowhere but trouble, but my heart feels so inflated with how much he cares about me, I don’t even care right now.

His eyes close for a moment as he processes what just came out of my mouth, his tongue jutting into the side of his cheek. When he opens his eyes again, they seem much darker than they were before and I knew that my words had started something. His tone itself could cut through ice. “Excuse me? Would you like to repeat that? I’m just not sure that’s what you were really trying to say, sweetheart.” 

His words shoot a shiver through my body and directly down to my core. He doesn’t call me that unless I’m really starting to push my limits. It’s a fucked up nickname because it’s way too gentle for whatever he’s planning to do to me.

For some stupid reason, the desire to provoke him becomes unbearable. “That is actually exactly what I was trying to say. You were so worried about me that you ran home and almost tore the front door off its hinges. It was absolutely adorable.” I put extra emphasis on the last word, a smirk playing on my lips. 

His eyebrow raises at me as his arms cross over his chest, his fingers tapping his arm in an attempt to control his desire to put me over his knee right that second. “Oh yeah? Wanna make that hole you’re in a little deeper?” He takes a step closer to me until it feels like he’s towering over me, his face only inches from mine, and whispers, “Go on, say something else. I dare you.” 

Those fucking words. Maybe on any other day, I would have just apologized and took a spanking or two. But daring me? Oh boy, today was not the day. I just got done with two fucking shifts at work in a row and okay, yeah, I can see why you’d be worried about me and now you’re mad that I’m mouthing off, but seriously? Fuck you, Eddie! I thought to myself. 

Surprise registers on his face as his mouth opens slightly, eyes widening. Oh god. Did I just say that out loud? I look up at him and laugh nervously. “Is it too late already to say I’m sorry?” My voice is much more quiet than I mean it to be, but it’s too difficult to speak up when his eyes are on fire and it’s directed right at me.

He just stares at me, his eyes going from that teddy-bear brown to straight up black. He starts unbuckling his belt, pulling it from the loops slowly. My mouth dries out and for a moment, I’m frozen in place before the realization of what he’s about to do hits and I fucking bolt towards the bathroom so I can lock myself in there for a while until he calms down. 

His hand quickly reaches out and grabs me by the wrist before flipping me around to face him. He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him while his other hand continues pulling his belt from the loops at an agonizing pace. “And just where do you think you’re going? You really think you get to say that shit to me and then run off to avoid my belt? Really?” He can’t help but laugh at my escape attempt, but his laugh sounds empty. 

I try to pull my face away from his grip, but it’s impossible. My nerves turn into anger and I suddenly swat his hand away from my face, my voice raising to a yell. “You can’t get me in trouble for this! I was just messing around, Eddie, can’t you take a fucking joke?” 

The growl that escapes his lips is feral. He grabs me by the back of the neck and pushes me forward, forcing me down the hallway towards the bedroom as he bites back, “Eddie? I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, sweetheart, but that is incorrect.” 

I’m practically stumbling over my own feet, he’s pushing me so hard and walking too fast for me to find a good rhythm in my steps. I get shoved down onto the mattress face first, but quickly flip myself around and sit up, scrambling backwards to the opposite side of the bed. “Stop it! Eddie I said I was sorry, I was joking! Don’t do this, seriously.” My voice is definitely mixed with panic and anger… arousal is in there somewhere too, judging by the wet spot I know is coming through my panties right now. 

He grabs me by my ankles and drags me back towards him, before flipping me over, scolding me as he yanks off my panties and giving my ass a few hard spanks with his hand to warm me up. “Let me get this straight. You are acting like a fucking brat, and now you refuse to take your punishment for it? Not only that, you know how you’re supposed to address me right now, yet you keep acting like you’re just my sweet little girlfriend and calling me by my name. But you’re not my sweet little girlfriend right now, are you?” 

He doesn’t even give me a chance to respond to his questions, he just grabs his belt and uses every harsh spank with it to emphasize his next words. “You. Are. My. Bratty. Fucking. Slut.” I wince and whine at every smack, and then my hands fly back to cover my now-bright red ass for protection. He has no patience with me anymore, I can tell. He grabs my hands to pin them behind my back, which makes me groan out in frustration and panic, and without even thinking about it, I’ve kicked my feet at him and hit him right in the thigh. Thankfully it wasn’t a direct kick to the balls, but it was close. And now I’m fucked.

I look back at him as best as I can, and the look on his face sends another round of chills down my spine. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second though, fuck my life. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” I scream at him, squirming as hard as I could to try to get away, “I wouldn’t have done that if you had just let me go!” 

He tuts at me from behind, sighing in disappointment. “You really need a lesson in obedience today, don’t you? I tried to just give you a few spankings with the belt. Just a few, and you just can’t stop making things worse for yourself.” He grabs me by the hair and yanks me up to sit, making me yelp. My shirt is torn off of me before a quick, double-handed shove sends me crashing back down. It’s not gentle, and I let out an “oof” when I hit the bed. He grabs me by my hips and flips me over again before getting onto the bed and straddling me so I can’t squirm away. 

He leans over and grabs a piece of rope in the bedside table drawer before grabbing my wrists harshly. As he is tying my wrists together, he talks to me rather calmly, as if he’s explaining how two plus two equals four. “If you had just taken your punishment like a good girl, I wouldn’t be having to do this, sweetheart. But you just couldn’t shut your mouth, could you? And then you kick me? You actually kick me? Well, when this all gets too intense for you, just remember that you brought this on yourself. I tried to let you off easy, I really did. But now it’s time to face the consequences, sweetheart.” He sighs as he pulls my arms up to tie the other end of the rope against the headboard, acting like my squirming is literally nothing to him.  The entire time he’s talking I’ve been doing my best to squirm, to look at him with pleading eyes, to whimper at him submissively like I know he likes, but none of it was doing a single thing to change his mind. 

I suddenly notice just how naked I am, and just how clothed he is. It makes my thighs squeeze together as I try to hide just how fucking turned on I am by all of this. Am I terrified? Yes. Have I ever gotten in this much trouble before? No. Am I wetter than I’ve ever been before in my life? God, yes. When he is done with the ties, he looks down at me with his arms crossed against his chest again and his eyebrow raised, waiting for… something?

I look up at him for a few seconds, getting a little bit irritated by the way he’s sitting there and staring at me expectantly but not doing or saying anything. “What?” Oops. That came out harsher than I meant it to.

“Well? Are you going to apologize?” He demands. Why the fuck is my only urge when he looks like that to make him even more agitated? I know punishment is coming. I know he’s at his limit with my disobedience and attitude. And yet it’s just too entertaining to witness all of his reactions when I refuse to give up.

“No. You don’t own me, you can’t make me do shit.” I glare at him, shutting my eyes and pulling at the restraints slightly as I prepare for a slap. It doesn’t come. 

I slowly peek one eye open and he leans forward, grabbing my chin in his hand so hard it hurts until I fully look at him, and then whispers, “Oh, but I do. And you’re going to learn that the hard way.” I can’t help but swallow hard, and my mouth dries out again. I have no clever response to that. 

He crawls off of me and grabs the underside of my knees, yanking them open despite me trying to keep them closed. I knew I was a mess down there and I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that too. When he sees how wet I am, he lets out a whistle. “Damn, baby. You are such a dirty girl.” His fingers go right to my core, spreading my lips apart with two fingers, causing me to whimper and turn my face away from him because the way he’s looking at my pussy right now has my stomach doing flips. 

He slides two his two fingers up and down my slit to wet them before shoving them both inside me, giving me absolutely no time to adjust before he starts pumping them in and out at a much faster pace than he normally warms me up with. I moan out as his fingers are sliding in and out easily. I can already hear how wet I am on his fingers, and it makes my cheeks flush at the sound. I can’t even help it at this point and I squirm at the sensation, my legs closing around his hand. Which, obviously doesn’t do fucking anything to stop him or even slow him down. He curls his fingers up once he feels my g-spot start to swell from stimulation, not only making a “come here” motion but also still bringing his fingers in and out of me at a vicious pace. I squeeze my legs tighter and my moans straight up sound like I’m in a porno movie or something. 

“You are so fucking wet. I don’t even need to warm you up like this, do I? No, I don’t think I do.” He rips his hands away and leaves me whining at the empty feeling, but it is quickly replaced by the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. I don’t even remember seeing him take off his pants. He slides it along my slit and barely touches my clit with it, which makes me flinch. He slowly pushes himself inside of me as he grabs my hips so hard, I swear they’ll bruise. He leans his head back and groans at the feeling, but just a moment later he is pounding into me at an unforgiving pace. I look at him as my mouth hangs open, keeping eye contact as I’m unable to hold back my moans yet again. The speed of his thrusts mixed with just how turned on I am causes me to get closer to an orgasm much faster than I’d like to. 

I absentmindedly try to wrap my arms around him for something to hold on to but the ropes promptly remind me that I can’t. As he feels my pussy starting to twitch and throb the closer I get to an orgasm, he grabs onto the back of my thighs and pushes my legs up and to the side of me, giving him a much better angle to hit my g-spot with every thrust. When he hears the sweet sounds I’m making at this angle, he starts pushing himself deeper and thrusting his hips even harder, practically slamming into my cervix every few thrusts. If it weren’t for how ruthlessly he was fucking me, I would be extremely distracted by the heavenly groans that were freely flowing from his lips right now. 

I’m heading towards an orgasm so quickly, I barely have time to say “I’m gonna” before he pulls his cock out of me faster than I can realize what was happening. Right as I’m about to open my mouth to argue or whine at him for rudely stopping my impending orgasm, he brings his hand down to slap my pussy. The wet sound it makes mixed with the sting on my sensitive lips makes me arch my back and groan. He chuckles darkly and slaps my pussy again just to hear me make that sound again. 

Then he gets right in my face, and his voice sounds like it’s practically an entire octave lower than usual. “Do you want me to make you cum? Hm? Is that what you want?” I know where this is heading, and it is not in my favor. I nod my head quickly at him, making my voice sound as submissive as I can manage right now, hoping it will work.

“Yes! Yes please, please make me cum! Please Ed-Sir! Please make me cum Sir!” When I almost called him Eddie, he looked like he was about to fucking lose it, so I corrected myself. There have been times before when he’s edged me for days without letting me cum, and I absolutely cannot take that kind of punishment right now. 

He places his hand around my throat, squeezing tight enough so that I can’t easily speak and then slams himself inside of me again without warning. No sound comes out when I try to cry out from the sudden force. He speeds up and slows down in a repeating pattern until I’m quivering under him and he can feel just how close I am. He loosens his grip on my throat and has a devilish smirk while he says, “Say it again. Beg me. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.” 

I balk at his words; my voice is caught in my throat and I even stop moaning for a second. I’m so fucking close to cumming though, my legs are shaking uncontrollably. He slaps both of my tits, hard, to jump-start my brain into saying something. “Fuck! Don’t make me say that, God, please just let me cum!” 

A chuckle escapes his lips and he tuts his tongue at me in disappointment. He slaps me in the face suddenly. “God isn’t here, sweetheart. It’s just me. You just don’t want to listen, do you?” He says this casually, as if he didn’t just hit me. He pulls his cock out of me again, and I whine as my impending orgasm fizzles out again. He leans over and grabs more rope, silently tying my calf to my thigh and then tying the other side of the rope to the headboard. He does the same thing to my other leg, so that both of my legs are tied up and out of his way. I give the ropes a test squirm and become increasingly nervous as I realize just how little wiggle room I have. I can barely even move my hips an inch. Not good.

I want so badly to complain, to whine, to beg, to argue my way out of this. But as soon as my mouth opens, no words come out. Which is good, because the way he’s looking at me is telling me that now my punishment is going to really begin, and I am too nervous to make it any worse than it’s about to be. He reaches his hand out towards me and grips my cheeks in between his thumb and fingers, digging in. “You have been such a brat today, you don’t deserve an ounce of mercy, sweetheart.” 

He lets my cheeks go with a bit of force, before aligning himself up against my entrance and slamming inside me again. I’m hitting the edge so fast, I can’t even help myself from begging, despite what he literally just told me about not deserving mercy. “Please! Please just let me cum. Don’t edge me again, please! Two times is enough, Sir. Please, two times is enough!” My voice sounds whorish, even I can hear it. The force that he’s slamming into me makes every other syllable sound strained through my moans. 

“Oh, you think two times is enough?” He scoffs at me before pulling all the way out until just the tip is at my entrance, before slamming into me all the way and growling, “You think two times is all you deserve? You’re pathetic, baby. You don’t even realize how much you need me to break you, to put you in your place.” 

He pulls out and slams into me again, his hands reaching up and pinching my nipples hard enough to make me yelp. He continues at this pace, keeping me right on the edge with his incredibly slow, forceful thrusts. “Now beg me for it. Tell me you want me to make you cum. Say ‘Please Sir, please make me cum like the little slut I am.’” He spits out the word “slut” with venom, his eyes don’t leave mine for a second. I’m so close, so needy, so fucking close that I don’t dare look away from him either.

I cry out in frustration, a “no!” escaping my lips before I can even stop it. I look at him desperately, about to apologize for defying him yet again and beg him to just let me cum, but he smacks my tits again and uses both of his hands to grip my throat. He squeezes just enough that I can still breathe, if I really focus, but there’s no way I can talk. 

“No?” he repeats, an evil grin spreading across his face as he pulls out of me all the way again, and I think for a second he’s going to stop completely. “Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to keep going, aren’t we?” He leans in and bites the inside of my tit right next to my nipple so hard that I pull against the restraints and my eyes squeeze shut. He pushes himself back into me again, his pace so fast the bed sounds like it’s going to fucking break. I’m so close, so so close, and he knows it. He can feel it. “Don’t you dare fucking cum, babygirl.” 

As tears start to spring to my eyes, he lets my throat go and places his hands on each side of my head instead. The second I can, I’m begging as best as I can, “Please! Please pleasepleaseplease let me cum, Sir I can’t take it, please!” My words are barely even words, they’re all mushed together and tangled in between moans. My entire body is shaking from being so close as I try my best to hold it back. 

The grin on his face is sinister. “That’s more like it! Keep fucking begging, sweetheart. Say those magic words for me and I’ll let you cum.” His pace is unrelenting, giving me no option other than to hold back my orgasm, which he knows I can’t do for long.. Bastard, he isn’t giving me a choice anymore. 

My breathing becomes ragged as I fight desperately not to cum, but I can’t do it anymore. My eyes fly open wide and just as I’m about to lose control, he pulls out of me all the way. I never thought I’d be so relieved to feel the sensation of my orgasm fading away. I immediately pout at him, my voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t say it, Sir.. It’s too embarrassing. Please, please just let me cum.” 

“Oh, is it embarrassing for you?” He asks, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He wraps a hand in my hair, pulling my head up just a bit and putting his face very close to mine. “You think it’s embarrassing to beg for my cock? To admit that you’re mine and you’ll do anything for me to let you cum?” He slides his fingers inside of me, curling his fingers up towards my g-spot and fingering me violently, putting his entire arm into it, causing my hips to jiggle with the pure force of his movements. “Well, you’re gonna have to get over that embarrassment and beg me the right way, because I’m not stopping until you do, slut.” 

Tears form in my eyes at his words and the fact that he’s yet again working me so quickly towards an orgasm. It’s making my brain start to go fuzzy from all of the edges, slaps, and harsh words. My mouth opens and I can tell that the moans and gasps coming from me are just entertainment for Eddie at this point, because he mockingly moans right back at me, then growls. “Yeah? That feel good baby?” 

I can’t handle it anymore, all of my nerves feel like they’re being set on fire with how much I need to cum right now. I let out a single whimper in defeat, and my eyes drift away from him despite the fact that he’s holding my head up and forcing his face in mine. “Please Sir! Please make me cum…” the second half of my sentence is barely above a whisper, but I know he can hear it. “Like the l-little sl-slut I am.” My cheeks are on fire and I’m sure I am the color of a tomato after I finally say it. 

He sighs with satisfaction, his smirk turning into a huge grin and he finally lets my hair go. Just as I think he’s finally about to let me cum, he pulls his hand out of me yet again. I squirm against the ropes and a single tear falls onto my cheek with pure frustration, looking at him with horror as if he just committed a crime. 

“You’re not getting off that easy. Say it like you mean it, baby. Say it like you’re proud to be my slut.” He slides his cock back into me, both of us emitting a low, guttural groan at the same time. He barely gives me a second to hesitate before slapping me on my cheek again, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Fucking. Say. It.” 

I gasp as he slaps my cheek again before letting out a mix between a moan and a whine in frustration from how torturously slow he’s going. His goal right now is just to keep me teetering on the knife’s edge of an orgasm. I finally give up and cry out, “Please! Please Sir, make me cum like the little slut I am, please! I can’t take it anymore!” 

The smirk that crept back on his face was pure evil. “Good fucking girl!” he groans as he finally picks up the pace, pumping into me deep and hard and fast, slamming into my g-spot with every thrust. As my orgasm finally crashes into me, I practically scream. My back arches as much as it is allowed and I can still hear the sloppy wet sounds of him slamming into me over and over, despite how loud I am. My breath is stolen away from me with how intense it all is, all of those edges making this one orgasm almost unbearable. My limbs keep shaking and fighting against the rope even as my orgasm slows down because my pussy immediately feels overstimulated. My eyes look glossy as tears are filling them again and I can’t stop squirming. “Please stop, please stop, it’s too much! I came, I’m done cumming! Sir I came, now please give me a break!” 

He chuckles at my predicament, leaning down and brushing his lips against my ear as he whispers, “You are mine to use however I want. I’m not going to stop until you’re a sobbing, blubbering mess.” The sound I make at this is in between a cry and a moan, since he is fucking me so hard and fast that I’m immediately being dragged toward another orgasm. The sound I make causes him to groan and add, “And even then, I might not stop. Not until I’m good and ready to stop watching you cum. You have been such a naughty fucking girl today, and I am going to teach you a fucking lesson.” 

I cry out at his words in protest, hopelessly squirming against the restraints as he fucks me closer and closer to my next orgasm. The closer I get, the more uneven my breathing becomes. I look up at him, pleading with him desperately. “Sir, please don’t do this to me! I’ve learned my lesson, I promise!” I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut, fighting hard to hold back my next orgasm threatening to hit me like a brick wall.

“I don’t believe you,” Eddie growls, thrusting harder as he feels me tensing up beneath him. He looks down at me heartlessly. “You’re going to cum for me. Right now.”

As soon as he tells me, no, fucking commands me to cum, I’m seeing stars. I can feel his eyes locked on my face, committing the look of pleasured agony on my face to memory. My moans are stuck in my throat with the intensity and my entire body is shaking and twitching and squirming. The sounds coming from his cock slamming into my pussy is fucking filthy. As my orgasm slows down, my limbs go limp and I am panting hard, trying like hell to catch my breath. 

He finally pulls out of me, leaving me twitching and whimpering from how hard I just came. My eyes flutter open at him, thanking him wordlessly for finally giving me a break. As I lay there with my chest heaving, believing he’s going to actually have some mercy on me, he lets his eyes trail down my body and fall onto my pussy. More specifically, my swollen and twitching clit. 

The sight makes him look at me like he was just given a new favorite toy. “Oh look, your poor little clit is just begging for my attention. I’ve been so mean to neglect it!” He slowly glides his fingers down my thigh, looking into my eyes and chuckling, “I hope you didn’t think I was done with you, sweetheart.” He quickly removes his own shirt before ever so gently sliding his fingers up and down my folds, before landing on my clit and gently circling it, but not quite touching yet. He leans down and kisses my chest, working his lips all the way down to my pussy, ignoring every one of my whimpers. He places a single, very gentle kiss directly on my clit as a warning for what’s to come, making me jerk and squeal. 

“Please Sir, my I’m way too sensitive for this!” I beg, a full pout on my lips. “I’m too sensitive..” 

Eddie laughs in amusement at my protest. His tongue darts out to flick at my clit, making me gasp and jerk my hips again. “Oh baby,” he breathes, “You’re always too sensitive for me.” He smirks and flattens his tongue, slowly licking from the very bottom of my entrance to the top of my clit, making me squirm and whine, unable to peel my eyes off of him. He suddenly pulls back, bringing his hand down to slap me 5 sharp times on my pussy, which makes me throw my head back with a long groan and flinch with every hit. “I don’t remember asking for your fucking opinion, though, slut.” He leans back down, placing his lips directly over my clit and sucking just barely, before rolling his tongue slowly. He only gives me about 2 seconds of soft touches before starting his assault. He violently lashes his tongue against my clit, then starts sucking hard, rolling his tongue with force. 

I squeak and jerk, before ungodly sounds start falling from my mouth. My arms and legs pull against their restraints and I do my very best to buck my hips away from his ministrations. I’m babbling nonsense and moaning lewdly, already fully overstimulated and he’s barely even started eating me out.

He groans at the sight of me squirming, sending vibrations through my clit. He’s unable to stop himself from groaning out some more as he hears every one of my incoherent babbles for mercy. He keeps going at a steady pace, pushing me close to another orgasm. He could spend days down there, the sound and sight of me right now just too sweet for him to not enjoy every single second of it.

I’m internally panicking as I near the edge of another orgasm. My breathing is fast and shallow and I can barely get a single word of my begging to actually sound like a real word. “Please, please no this is too intense! I can’t!” I pant out, praying he can understand me between my moaning and panting and how much I’m stuttering through my words. 

Eddie chuckles darkly at my pleas, happy that he’s got me exactly where he wants me. He pulls back just enough to lick a long strip up my entire pussy again and looks up at me with a smirk. When I look back at him, I gasp slightly. His eyes are fucking black, his pupils are so huge that all the pretty brown in his eyes have disappeared. There wasn’t a single ounce of leniency in his features. “You can’t handle it, huh?” he taunts, laughing. “It’s too intense, baby?” He pouts at me mockingly, using his fingertips to gently rub my clit, keeping me from getting a real break, but I’m grateful to be able to catch my breath at least.

I whimper at him pathetically and nod, looking at him with tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. “Yes! Please, please no more Sir, it is too intense, it is! I won’t be able to handle cumming like this!” My words are flying out of my mouth as fast as I can say them, hoping beyond all hope that he listens to me this time.

He watches me intently as I beg and the tears threatening to spill down my face are obvious, but his eyes don’t soften one bit. If anything, they seem to somehow darken even more. He shakes his head slowly, his lips curling into another sinister smile as he whispers, “Oh, it’s so cute when you beg me like that. I think you’re finally starting to learn your lesson in respect.” And with that, he returns his tongue to my clit, thrashing it cruelly against me and wrapping his lips around, sucking and rolling his tongue to elicit more sweet, desperate cries from my mouth. 

I let out a strangled moan as soon as he continues, and my orgasm hits me almost immediately. I struggle and thrash against the restraints, this orgasm feeling 100 times more intense than the others. Tears fall onto my cheeks as the pleasure turns into pure torture, words lost in my throat yet again as all I can do is scream and moan and take it. 

His tongue works up a frenzy, not giving me a moment's rest as he forces my orgasm to be drawn out as long as he can. When I finally come down from my high, he looks up at me to see my ruined face. Pink cheeks, tear stains, red and swollen lips from how much I’ve been chewing on them. His hand moves to gently rub my pussy lips, licking his lips at the sight of me. “That’s it, my little slut. You belong to me. I can do whatever I want with you. Right?” 

His question is a test, and I am desperate to pass with flying colors. “Yes! Yes Sir, I belong to you! You own me, please!” I look at him with pleading eyes, a few tears leaking down my cheeks again as my legs tremble uncontrollably.

To my utter relief, his eyes finally soften towards me and he smiles up at me. He pulls himself up to kiss my lips gently, slowly sliding two fingers inside of me, thrusting them deep and hard, but slow. “That’s it, good girl. I’m so glad to see you’ve finally learned your manners, baby.” He pulls back to watch me, enjoying the sight of me being so submissive as he slowly slides his fingers in and out of me with force. After a minute or so, he talks gently to me. “I’m going to leave you tied up, sweetheart. I know you’re being good now, but you understand that I have to finish your punishment, right? I can’t let you off the hook just because you’re finally being my good girl.” 

I’m so grateful that he’s finally being gentle with me that it takes me a good few seconds to process what he says. My eyes are glossed over and my brain is so fuzzy; I can feel myself drifting into subspace with every passing moment. He can see it in me too, he knows me so well. I sniffle when I finally realize what he’s said and he’s expecting a response, slowly nodding my head. My voice is hoarse from all the sounds I’ve been making. “Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.” 

He hums, visibly pleased with my response. “That’s better baby, I know you are.” He pulls his fingers out of me before standing up, turning towards the night stand again. He opens up a drawer and pulls out my arch nemesis: The Magic Wand. I can never handle that without begging and sobbing for mercy, even without it being a part of a punishment. Even when he tries to be nice, it’s always too much. 

He turns back towards me, searching my face for any sign of resistance, just to make sure that I really have learned my lesson and I plan on being a good girl. The second I see the wand my cunt clenches and I let out the tiniest whimper, gulping nervously. A single tear falls down my cheek again and he brings his hand up to wipe it away. “I know baby, I know.” He says softly before turning around and plugging it into the wall. 

The moment he turns back around and switches it on, he presses it against my clit, watching every single expression on my face. I jerk against the restraints and feel like the wind has been knocked out of my lungs. He bites his lip for a second before groaning out, “Ohh, that’s it baby. Feel that?” I can only whine at him in response, struggling to keep my eyes on his but somehow I manage, although tears are threatening to spill out any second from the overstimulation. “You’re going to cum so hard for me, aren’t you baby?” He presses it into my clit more, making tiny circles, causing me to cry out and arch my back, my entire body pulling against the restraints whether I want them to or not.

“Yes!” I cry out in response to him, although it barely sounds like a word. My entire body feels like it’s being electrocuted, and I can’t help but shake violently as I’m being thrust into an orgasm within seconds of him asking. A scream rips itself out of my throat and I feel like I’m going to explode. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he hears me, groaning out, “That’s right, fucking scream for me.” 

I feel like this orgasm is never going to end. My vision is going black, or maybe my eyes are just squeezed shut, I can’t even tell anymore. The way I scream is absolutely primal, tears rolling down my face and my crying turns to sobbing. My entire body is full of electricity and suddenly, I feel it. My body is fucking convulsing (as much as it can against the rope, anyway) as fluid starts squirting from my pussy. I feel it pool up underneath me and I hear a gasp and a groan from Eddie. “Thaaaat’s it baby, look at you fucking go!” he sounds like he could cum just from the sight of me. As soon as it ends, he finally turns the vibrator off and pulls it away. I feel like I can finally fill my lungs with oxygen again.

 When my eyes open, Eddie and I stare at each other with the exact same look of utter shock on our faces. That’s the first time I have ever done that. His look of surprise is short-lived though because when he sees the mess I’ve made on his hand, he drops the vibrator to inspect his hand in the light. He licks off every finger with a smack of his lips and a wicked fucking grin on his face. My face is frozen still, especially after seeing him do that. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes, staring down at me with a mixture of awe and something wild in his eyes. 

I close my eyes and a few more tears fall out onto my cheeks as my breathing is still a bit ragged. I feel his hands gently wipe away my tears and he whispers, “Baby, look at me.” My eyes flutter open halfway, nibbling my bottom lip. “Color?” He asks, his eyes look so warm and caring at this moment. I lean into his hand on my cheek with a tiny smile and a sniffle.

“Green.. I promise I’m okay. That was just… I don’t know if I can do that again.” I shake my head at him to emphasize my words, but I feel much more grounded after the check-in. 

He smiles gently at me, nodding back as his expression softens. “I know baby, I know that was a lot. But you’re doing so well.” He puts two fingers under my chin, making sure my eyes stay trained on his so that I really hear every word. “You can do this, sweetheart. I know you can.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before lifting back up, a stern expression on his face again. “Now. I want you to repeat after me. Say ‘Please Sir, I want you to make me cum like that again.’” He watches me closely, licking his lips as he waits for my response.

I close my eyes as he kisses my forehead, nodding through his encouragement. But my eyes fly right back open with his last demand and my voice gets caught in my throat again. Even as fucked out and obedient as I am now, my heart rate spikes at the thought of having to do… that again. Still, I swallow hard before somehow forcing the words out. “Please, Sir… I want you to make me cum like that again.” My lower lip is quivering as I whimper the words out. 

He groans as I say this, his cock twitching noticeably. His lips suddenly crash into mine, kissing me roughly. As he pulls back, he’s got that wild look in his eyes again as they trace over every inch of my body. “That’s my good girl. I’m going to make you cum one more time while I use that throat of yours.” He climbs onto the bed again, facing away from the headboard and putting each of his legs on either side of my head. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out, the heavenly sound of his own moan flooding my ears as he slowly lowers himself into my mouth, making sure to glide himself all along my tongue on the way in. He pumps his cock in and out of my mouth at a steady pace, slowly working its way towards my throat. After a couple minutes of this, he feels himself getting close to his own release. He leans over and grabs the wand again, turning it on and growling, “Get ready, slut. Knock on the headboard if you really need to breathe.”

He shoves his cock deep into my throat and I can’t help but gag, struggling to breathe through my nose and relax the muscles in my throat. “Fuck!” he groans out, before he pulls the hood of my clit back, something he knows is the most cruel thing he could do, and presses the wand firmly into my clit. Every single muscle in my body cries out in agony, begging to be allowed to squirm away from the sensation. I try to scream out but it makes me gag, and I lose my ability to breathe at all as my lungs refuse to work anymore from all of the stimulation. Too much stimulation. My brain feels like it’s short circuiting. Just as my lungs are starting to burn from lack of oxygen, I cum somehow even harder than I did the last time. I feel like I’m on fire and being shot up into icy space at the same time. I can’t move, I can’t scream, I can only cum. Once again, I feel myself start to squirt, and it all becomes too much. I start gagging on him again, and I hear him fucking whimper before groaning. His cum shoots down my throat and I have no choice but to swallow it. 

He turns the vibrator off and throws it to the side, pulling his cock out quickly as I gasp for breath, taking in huge gulps of air as he makes quick work of my restraints. He slowly guides my arms down and gently rubs my shoulders, then helps me close my legs and gently rubs my hips. He whispers, “I know baby, I know,” as I wince from the pain of finally being able to move my limbs and them being so sore. 

The second he looks me in the eyes and is about to ask how I feel, my vision goes blurry and I’m confused for a second before I actually realize I’m crying again. I can’t stop it though, my body is so exhausted and my brain is so fuzzy and every part of me is buzzing and sore. He instantly wraps me up in his arms, cradling my head against my chest and kissing my head. “Good girl,” he whispers to me, and his voice back to the normal, sweet and kind Eddie I hear every day. “You are such a good girl, I am so fucking proud of you, baby.” 

This was easily the most intense punishment I have ever been through, and he knows it. I’ve never squirted before in my life. I can barely even hear him whispering reassuring words to me over my own ragged breathing and sniffles, but I do notice that I am clinging onto him for dear life. He holds me close, rocking me gently back and forth. He kisses me on the top of my head again, and his voice starts to soothe every ounce of unrest in my body.

“Shh, shh.. It’s okay baby, I know it was rough, that was a really hard lesson. But you did so good.. I’m so so proud of you, baby.” He slowly takes his hand off of my head, leaning back enough so that he can wipe away the tears on my cheeks with his thumbs. Then he cups my cheeks in his hands and kisses all over my face. He starts at my forehead, then my nose, then both of my cheeks, and over my eyes. He is so gentle with every kiss, and about halfway through my tears stop falling and a little tiny giggle escapes my lips. 

I open my eyes to look up at him and his heart breaks when he sees my eyes red from so many tears and my cheeks absolutely covered in tear stains and blotchy pink skin. “Was that too much for you?” he whispers, talking so softly, as if his tone itself could blow me away if it was too loud or firm.

I smile softly and shake my head, still sniffling but just barely. His eyes look so pretty, I could get lost in them and never want to find my way out. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern and I can see his eyes scanning my every feature to make sure I really am okay. My heart swells about a thousand times its normal size. “No, it wasn’t too much, Eddie. It was so, so good. It was easily the most intense thing I’ve ever felt in my life, but it wasn’t too much. I promise. I just need lots of love now, okay?” I smile at him again with a little scrunch of my nose, trying to make extra sure he knows I really am okay. 

Eddie lets out a shaky breath but I can see the relief on his face as he brings my head into his chest again, holding his hand there to cradle it as he tickles gentle circles across my back with his other hand. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I love you so much.” 

I close my eyes again because the sensation on my back feels like heaven. I mumble into his skin, “I love you too. So much, Eddie.” I start trying to regulate my breathing, every deep inhale brings his delicious scent of woodsy musk and cigarettes. Once I feel like I’m returning back into a normal headspace, I pull back a little and show him my wrists and point to my legs. They’re still red and indented from the rope. “Can you help these feel better please?” 

He smiles softly down at me, his eyes and fingers running over every single mark on my skin, before nodding. “Of course, baby. Let’s go into the bathroom and I’ll take care of you.” He gets off the bed before picking me up and helping me wrap my legs around him. I press my face into his neck and wrap my arms around him and can’t help but smile. I could honestly live like this, in his embrace. Smelling his skin. His hair tickling my face. Feeling his chest against mine. It’s all perfection.

Once we get to the bathroom, he slowly puts me down and spins me gently to face the mirror. He looks into it at me, smiling and petting my hair to smooth it down. “There’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, “You are so perfect.” My face turns a bright ride and I hide my face in my hands, unable to help myself. 

“Eddie!” I giggle out. He always knows how to make me smile and completely fluster me at the same time. I gently peek at him in the mirror through my fingers, his smile is so sweet as he watches me. He chuckles at my reaction, gently placing his hands on my hips and spinning me around to look at him. I lower my hands and stare into his eyes, practically entranced.

“You’re so cute, baby.” He smiles and kisses my forehead again, bringing each of my hands into his and up to his lips, kissing each one so gently. He guides me over to sit down on the toilet seat, before turning to the tub and turning on the water. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?” 

As I sit down and watch the tub start to fill, I nod and lean forward to rest my head against his side, wanting to never stop touching him. “Yeah…yes please, I’d love a bath.” 

We wait in silence for a few minutes before he checks the temperature. Deeming it perfect, he grabs my hands again to help guide me towards the tub. As I sit down and relax into the water, he smiles at me and says, “Ahhhhh, that’s better, isn’t it? Feel good baby?” 

I nod and smile up at him and watch as he grabs the shower head to bring it down. He sits down next to the tub, turning on the shower head and he is so careful about wetting my hair without letting water drip onto my face. 

He takes his time, massaging my scalp slowly and with the perfect pressure as he shampoos it. After another few minutes of silence, I hear him starting to hum one of the songs from that Black Sabbath album, Master of Reality. I can’t tell which song it is, though. My eyes start to droop and I giggle a little at the end of the song as he’s slowly rinsing the soap out of my hair.

“You’re going to make me fall asleep if you keep this up, you know. Warm water, massages, and music? You’re spoiling me, Eddie.” I say, my eyes closed still to make sure no soap or water gets into my eyes as he rinses my hair off.

He chuckles softly at me, pressing a kiss to my now-clean hair. “I could do this for hours, baby. Plus, you deserve to be spoiled. Trust me.” I sigh in content and lean into his kiss, feeling utter bliss in the calm of the moment. 

Once he is done making every inch of me nice and clean, continuing the whole time to give me praise and making sure he is absolutely as gentle as he can be, he drains the tub for me and helps me stand up. He wraps me in a towel and gives me a great big hug, and it takes him a few seconds to let go. He picks me up again, bridal style this time, and brings me back to the bedroom despite my giggling at him that I am able to use my feet again. 

“I know you can, but I’ve got you baby, don’t you even worry about it.” He presses another kiss into the side of my head, which is probably the thousandth kiss of the evening. Not that I’m complaining for a second. He helps me get dressed into my comfiest pajamas and then dresses himself in boxers and a random t-shirt. He turns to me when he’s finished, cocking his head at me with a smile.

“So…I call for pizza, you pick the movie?” he asks, already reaching for the phone. Yeah… I’m so spoiled.

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Tag Request: @tlclick73

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[querenciasturniolo]

hi!! i love your work and i was wondering if you could make a fic about you going with the triplets to an amusement park?? it was nicks idea to get onto a huge upside down roller coaster and when you get onto a ride nick and chris decide to sit next to each other and you and matt have to sit together and when you get super anxious you grab his hand for comfort before going on a huge loop and matt thinks it’s just super cute??❤️

loop ⮕ m.s.

word count: 885

warnings: anxiety, nerves, swearing, roller coasters

summary: nick had the bright idea to get on the biggest rollercoaster you’d ever seen, and your nerves got the best of you

a/n: i love this, keep the requests coming !! i’m having so much fun bringing these stories to life !!!

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

You’d only been at the fair for half an hour, and Nick was already on one.

“You guys, we have to ride the Firecracker.” He insisted, Chris immediately shaking his head.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not, I’m not getting on that thing.” He said, Nick puckering his bottom lip as you watched them with an amused smile.

“Aww, are you scared? Do you need me to hold your hand?” Nick teased, Chris rolling his eyes and shoving Nick’s shoulder.

Matt looked at you completely unamused, a huff of a laugh leaving your lips. “They’re ridiculous.” He said, the both of you following behind them as they argued with one another, the four of you stepping into line for the roller coaster. You’d never been a fan of these types of rides, considering you’d warily watched other people on the ride screaming when the roller coaster stopped for way too long before resuming.

The four of you passed the metal gate, showing the man your wrist bands before filing onto the roller coaster. Nick and Chris were sitting next to each other in front of you still bickering back and forth, Matt sitting next to you and immediately strapping himself in. Your nerves were going crazy, and you couldn’t tell if it was fear or adrenaline.

“I’m honestly not looking forward to this.” You said, Matt looking over at you.

He shrugged his shoulders and helped you pull the bar down. “I think it’ll be fine. Chris will more than likely be screaming like a little girl, so just focus on that.” He suggested, chuckling to himself. You smiled at him as the operator came by and locked the bar into place, the smile not quite reaching your eyes. You watched the operator press a few buttons on his panel and pull a lever, your stomach dropping the moment the coaster jerked forward.

“Oh, fuck.” You whispered, your back pressed tightly against the back of your chair as it picked up speed. Matt laughed from beside you, his hands holding onto the pull bar.

The cart sped up with each curve it went around, your heart racing as it climbed the hill.

“If you don’t breathe, you’ll pass out.” Matt teased you, a humorless laugh leaving your lips as the cart reached the peak, your heart nearly stopping as it paused.

You could hear Chris yelling something at Nick, but before Nick could reply, the coaster flew downward. You screeched, Matt’s laughter ringing through your ears as the wind blew your hair. You wanted desperately to close your eyes, but you knew if you kept them closed you would throw up from not expecting the motion.

The cart was quickly approaching the loop, and your heart was pounding as you felt your hair start to lift from your shoulders. Out of instinct, you reached for Matt, your hand gripping his wrist tightly. When the cart froze upside down, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking up—well, down. The ground began swirling below you, all of the blood rushing to your head completely distracting you from the feeling of Matt removing your hand from his wrist and entwining your fingers with his.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, I’m gonna fucking puke.” You rambled, Matt laughing boisterously next to you.

“Just breathe, Y/n. It’ll be over soon.” He comforted you, a laugh leaving his lips when your grip tightened on his hand as the cart started moving again. You were right side up again, your stomach calming down as the coaster flew past a few more curves and hills and your hand shaking in Matt’s as the roller coaster finally came to a stop.

Matt squeezed your hand lightly before you let go, embarrassment flooding your body as you got yourself out of the cart as fast as you could and rushed down the stairs. You turned around, seeing Nick and Chris leaning on each other, laughing hard enough to border on hysterical. Matt was following behind them, an amused smile on his face as he shook his head.

“Y/n, you’re fucking face!” Chris said, his voice high in pitch from lack of air, Nick’s boisterous laugh nearly knocking the two of them over.

Matt raised his eyebrows when he finally reached you, his gaze meeting Chris and Nick’s shaking bodies before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Chris, don’t act like you weren’t screaming at the top of your lungs on the hill. I’m surprised you didn’t call out for Mom.” Chris’ laughter stopped immediately, Nick slapping his hand over his mouth. You didn’t mind the teasing, especially since everything was over and done with.

“That’s true.” Nick said, Chris looking at Nick completely bewildered.

“Nick, your fingernails left indents in my fucking arm, I don’t want to hear it.”

The two of them continued bickering as they walked ahead of you, Matt falling in line with your steps. You glanced over at him, your cheeks burning as you tried to hype yourself up enough to say what was on your mind.

“Hey, sorry for like, breaking your hand on the roller coaster.” You said, Matt glancing over and meeting your eyes. He smiled and shrugged, looking down and entwining his fingers with yours.

“I didn’t mind, you can hold my hand any time.”

[deep-fried-egg]

(I am deep-fried-egg. I am not stealing fics.)

Full throttle

Warnings: inaccurate explanation of illegal street racing, g!p, lesbians

Smut below this shit 👇👇👇

Tara is an illegal street racer. is she ashamed? not at all. she's proud of herself! she's the most famous street racer in all of New York. anyone can recognize that powder blue 1976 AMC racer from miles away. and everyone knows it's her because of how beat up it is.

Now y/n is her nemesis. Tara has never been able to beat y/n in a race and has made it her life mission for the past 3 years.

Y/n is the only person Tara can't beat actually. somehow Tara constantly fucking loses against her. Tara doesn't give up though.

This time Tara got a little distracted per se during this race and here's why:

"Why do you keep racing me, Tara? It's not like you ever win!" Y/n yelled from where she was sitting in the car next to Tara who looked like she was making a plan on how to win the world cup.

Tara rolled her eyes at y/n's statement and just said. "Because I can" with so much confidence in herself. Y/n smirked slightly at Tara but then just said "Well you're going to need to be faster Tara if you're going to win." which honestly pissed Tara off because she could still win if she wanted to.

Y/n just shook her head at Tara's stubbornness and went back to looking through her phone while waiting for Tara to get ready. Tara looked over at y/n who seemed to be scrolling through Tumblr or something. Y/n had this thing for Tumblr. Kind of weird but who cares.

"Alright, I'm ready." Tara smacked the roof of y/n's cat before getting into her own. y/n smiled at Tara who gave her the middle finger back before driving off towards their first race. which was about a mile away.

before they knew it the race was starting and they had to rev their engines before starting. just to show off a little. Tara immediately went full speed as soon as she could go. She made sure to never hit the brake pedal to keep her pace up. she felt the rush. the adrenaline coursing through her body. She loved doing this. speeding her car down an empty street. racing her biggest enemy. the one girl she was determined to win against.

Tara's heart began pounding and her breathing quickened as she approached closer and closer to the finish line. As soon as her mind started focusing on the win she was about to have under her belt she looked outside the passenger's window (big mistake) and saw y/n lift her shirt and bra to flash Tara which caused Tara to rapidly lose speed and y/n ended up winning the race yet again.

Tara started spacing off as she could feel her cock start getting erect at the thought of seeing y/n's tits again. She couldn't help it really, y/n was just irresistible.

the moment Tara stepped out of her car she stormed towards y/n and pushed her front onto the roof of her car. "that wasn't fucking fair y/n." She hissed into the h/c girl's ear as she gripped her hips tightly. y/n let out a small gasp as she could feel Tara's dick pressing up against her thigh.

"you cheated." Tara continued pushing into her and letting her hands slide under the hem of y/ns shirt so she could trace over the smooth skin of y/ns stomach. y/n squirmed at Tara's touch. "you cheated." Tara repeated as she bit his shoulder and then made a suggestion.

"we should move this into MY car. I want to feel like a winner." Tara suggested with a sly smile causing a shiver to run down y/n's spine. y/n nodded and allowed Tara to pull y/n towards her car so she could open the door to the backseats and fucking ruin her.

Tara struggled to open the back door because there was a large dent near the handle which made it difficult to open the door. y/n giggled at Tara's struggle before opening the door herself with no problems.

Tara rolled her eyes before climbing into the backseat with y/n following shortly afterward. y/n shut the door to the backseat firmly before she turned her head to look at Tara.

Tara pushed y/n down so she could straddle her thighs. Tara then lifted y/n's shirt and gently bit the skin of y/ns shoulder.

"Tell me I'm a better racer or I'm not fucking you." Tara whispered in y/ns ear and y/n swallowed hard before saying, "y - yeah you are! you're a better racer than me!" Tara grinned at y/n response. y/n's voice cracked when she said that and Tara smiled even more before biting Y/n's collarbone.

Tara unhooked y/n's bra before she saw those beautiful breasts and she almost moaned at the sight.

"Fuck. I've been wanting to do this." Tara murmured against y/n's neck. Tara felt her goblin instincts take over and she quickly rid both herself and Y/n of the rest of their clothes before settling between Y/n's legs.

y/n gasped at Tara's sudden movements as she felt Tara position herself and push in without thinking.

"fuck.." Tara mumbled as she started thrusting inside y/n. Tara didn't know where her self-control went. every part of her body ached for this woman. she only wanted to fuck her, to take her all night long.

but y/n doesn't deserve it. not after all of that winning she's been doing! Tara thought bitterly as she continued to thrust into y/n harder and harder. She groaned at the thought of how badly she wanted to make y/n cry out in pleasure. to beg for her release. to scream out her name. but she kept quiet and didn't say anything instead continuing to pound into y/n mercilessly.

Tara reached down to grab y/n's hips so she can thrust in a little easier. y/n wrapped her legs around Tara's waist in response.

"fucking hell Tara! I - oh fuck!" Tara watched as y/n arched her back in ecstasy. the sound of y/n's moans, her breathy whimpers, made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling. but it also made her feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

she wanted to hear y/n scream like this again and again. to hear her beg for her to take her. to taste her. to feel her. Tara wanted y/n to forget everything and just come undone beneath her. Tara wants y/n to give her what she needs. Tara thrusts a few more times before she cums deep inside y/n. Tara kept on thrusting though, even if she was getting overstimulated.

"o-oh fuck Tara! I'm going to cum!" Tara suddenly pulled out of y/n before she could cum which made y/n whine in disappointment.

"oh my god, y/n don't be such a baby. I'll let you cum at some point! I just need to teach you a little lesson." Tara told y/n who just rolled her eyes at Tara's words and pouted. "I hate you." y/n said as she crossed her arms against her chest and glared at Tara who just chuckled lightly at y/n's reaction.

"no, you don't," Tara said before slipping back inside of y/n once again. Y/n was panting now which Tara took great pleasure in. Y/n grabbed Tara's hair and buried her face into Tara's neck. Tara felt satisfied hearing y/n whimper her name and she smirked at the sound.

"Tara please...please! I need you to make me cum." Y/n pleaded desperately which caused Tara to roll her eyes at y/n's words and started moving in and out of y/n slowly while listening to her cries of satisfaction. Tara knew that she was getting close to her climax. Tara could practically see y/n coming apart underneath her. "god! You're killing me, Tara..." Y/n breathed out, "Come on! I'm so fucking close!"

Tara just laughed at y/n's desperate pleas. "you're so cute when you're needy, y/n." Tara said teasingly and Y/n just growled lowly as she tried to move herself on Tara's throbbing cock. Tara pulled out once again since she didn't want y/n to cum too soon.y/n was panting heavily by now and Tara couldn't help the grin from forming on her lips.

"you are SO fucked up." Y/n growled angrily at Tara.

"maybe. but you should have thought about that before you made me lose the fucking race. now get out of my car and go home."

"but I didn't even-"

"no buts. I would have won if you didn't flash me y/n." Tara stated as y/n climbed out of the car. "don't think I won't do this again if you make me lose another race."

[missymysticc]

Bullet Holes

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!reader

Summary: You blame yourself for Bucky's wounds. Bucky won't let you suffer like that.

Warnings: wounds, angst, no use of y/n, blood

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: I love the trope bucky hurting himself and the reader comforts him so here ya go! Requests are open.

“I’m so sorry! this is all my fault” a tear drops from your eye, leaving my face, falling to the ground.

Bucky lays asleep, beaten and bruised in the quinjet.

The strong sounds of the engine drown out your plees to Bucky.

You messed up. You failed to keep guard. You left your post. That's what your conscience kept repeating over and over again. The guilt washes you over. Bucky might die, all because you couldn't obey orders.

<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>

Standing still, your legs never fail you. It's been an hour yet you still kept your guard up. Every footstep, every whisper, every sound you kept alert.

“Clint, someone is coming from the west wing, you better hurry.”

You pressed your earpiece to warn Clint. You throw a piece of metal on the other end of the corridor. It clinks down on the floor echoing all around the empty hallway. The agent notices, light footsteps start sounding away close from the 3rd room to the left, where Clint was.

“Bought you some time. You're welcome”

you hear a faint chuckle from your earpiece.

A few minutes have passed. A loud growl from a distance can be heard. Now, you know you weren't supposed to leave your post. It was a boring but important duty, but you couldn't just ignore the sound. The low uncanny growling, vibrating the metal walls kept on keeping you uneasy. You were getting worried.

You slowly approach where the sound originated from. You can feel your heart pounding. No matter how many missions you have had, every single time you still felt nervousness lingering at the back of your mind. You ignore it, continuing to walk past the corridors that you were guarding.

Reaching the end of the hallway, you slowly turn the knob, twisting it to open. Slowly as to not alert whoever or whatever was inside. Once inside the follow the growling. Nothing seems to be inside. You tilt your head, wondering if the growling was so loud why wasn't there anything here. You reach the last corner, looking behind a huge copier machine and you feel played.

“Sh*t”. You curse yourself.

A huge speaker is placed, playing a loop of realistic gutted noises.

You hear a series of gunshots from the other room, where Bucky was. You immediately sprint to where he was. Adrenaline rushes to your veins. You felt the wind against your face. a wave of worry, fear and anxiety can be felt at this moment. You wonder if he's alright. “He can handle himself, right?”. All these feelings and thoughts you felt all in just a span of a few seconds.

You see bucky on the floor bleeding. Red gushing out of his legs. At least 6 bullet holes on his legs and 3 on his human arm.

“Where are they?” you can hear the worry in your trembling voice.

You try to cover his wounds. He winces, tilting his head upwards.

“Careful there doll. They got hidden guns all over the room.”

He grunts his words out.

“Bucky's down, wounded, I need a safe path to the quinjet. Anyone here me?”

You say to your earpiece. bucky is still bleeding, you try to stop it but there are too many wounds.

“Go through the window, I'll catch you with the quinjet!”

Natasha says through the comms, thank God Tony made her in charge of the quinjet.

“I got you, don't worry” she adds.

Bucky winces while you put your arm under him, helping him get up. Your other arm is supporting him, wrapped behind his back to carry his weight. On The other hand, you carry your weapons. He slowly and carefully puts one foot after the other, you look at him in pity. You blame yourself for ever getting him in this situation. Even if what is done is done, you can't help but feel your heart ache for his wounds.

“The serum is already making me numb. You don't have to worry."He looks at you, as if he can read your mind. He knows you overthink about him all the time.

Bucky sighs.

You carefully place your hands behind him guiding him down the window. Nat catches him, you take a step on the edge of the window and dive.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The quinjet finally lands back to the compound. They place Bucky laying on his back on the stretcher. He insists his fine, that the serums got him covered, that he's suffered worse. You don't listen.

You hear him say it all the time, that he doesn't need to be taken care of. He is still in his mindset that no one is here to help him. This team loves him, you love him, you know it, everyone knows it, except for him. Maybe he does know it, he just refuses to believe that someone like him is worthy of redemption that you and the team are willing to give him. It will take a while for him to adjust, but you just wish he knows how much you care for him, how much you yearn to always have him by your side.

You sit by Bucky's bedside in the med bay. His eyes travel from your right eye to your left, searching for any signs you were awake. You weren't. He sees how your chest rises and falls in rhythm, the way your eyes flutter when you hear a sound. He sees how peaceful you are when you sleep. He doesn't want to wake you up and risk disturbing you.

“Doll, I know you are sleeping, but I just wanted to say: I love you, I know you blame yourself, I see it in your eyes, the way you panicked when you saw me.” He takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising. “This isn't your fault, stop blaming yourself for everything.” He continues.

Your eyes open, you see Bucky looking at you with a soft smile on his face.

“Hey, have you been staring at me while I sleep?” You question him, trying to light up the mood.

“You just look so peaceful, I couldn't help but stare”

He never fails to bring a smile to your face whenever he compliments you. His hand reaches onto yours and he holds them tight.

“Stop it, I know what you are thinking” he warns you.

“I shou-”

“You never could have stopped it. Even if you did come in time, it's both of us who could have gotten hurt. Then you couldn't have saved both of us”

“I love you” you didn't want to argue with him, you know he is right.

“I love you more”

[enmfagboy644]

Title: Exposed by the Stranger

(A.I generated)

Chapter 1: The Anonymous Encounter

Victor, a young, slender man with a passion for the extraordinary, found himself scrolling through random profiles on Snapchat, his fingers itching for some excitement. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and the sun outside seemed to mock his current state of boredom. With a mischievous grin, he stumbled upon a profile with a simple display name, "Anonymous_Guy25." The bio section was empty, leaving Victor intrigued by the mystery.

Without much hesitation, Victor sent a message, his heart racing with anticipation.

Victor: Hey there! Up for some fun? 😏

Anonymous_Guy25: Who dis?

Victor: Just a guy looking for a good time. You seem interesting.

Anonymous_Guy25: Oh yeah? What kind of fun you into?

Victor's mind raced with possibilities, but he decided to test the waters.

Victor: I like...embarrassing fun. You know, something different.

The response was almost immediate, as if the stranger was eager for entertainment.

Anonymous_Guy25: Embarrassing, huh? Like what? 😈

Victor's heart pounded as he typed, his cheeks flushing with excitement.

Victor: I've got a thing for being laughed at...you know, humiliated a little.

Anonymous_Guy25: Oh, you're one of those guys, huh? 😏 Go on...

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, Victor decided to take a leap.

Victor: Yeah...I get off on it. Imagine if someone went through my snaps, my nudes...and laughed.

Anonymous_Guy25: Send me one then, let's see if you're for real.

Victor's fingers trembled as he selected a nude he had taken earlier, showcasing his lean, naked body. With a deep breath, he hit send.

The wait felt like an eternity, but then...

Anonymous_Guy25: 😂😂😂 Dude, you're actually serious! This is gold!

Victor's heart sank a little, but the rush of pleasure was undeniable.

Victor: I know, it's crazy...but I love it.

Anonymous_Guy25: You're a real freak, huh? What's your name, freak?

Victor: Victor...and I'm not just any freak. I'm an exhibitionist too.

Anonymous_Guy25: Oh, this just got interesting. So, Victor, you want me to expose you?

Victor's mind was clouded with desire, and he made a decision he might regret later.

Victor: Yeah...why not? My username is 'V_Secret' and the password is...

Before he could change his mind, Victor sent his login details, a reckless act fueled by lust.

Chapter 2: The Takeover

For a few moments, Victor stared at his phone, questioning his decision. But the anticipation of what might come next kept him glued to the screen.

Anonymous_Guy25: Well, well, Victor. You've got quite a collection here. 😏

Victor's stomach twisted with excitement and fear.

Victor: What...what do you think?

Anonymous_Guy25: I think you're a sicko, dude. But this is entertaining. So, you want me to send these back to you?

Victor's heart raced, and he could feel himself getting aroused.

Victor: Yeah...send them. I want to see myself through your eyes.

The stranger started sending Victor's own nudes, one by one, each accompanied by a mocking message.

Anonymous_Guy25: Look at this skinny white boy! 😂 Posing like he's hot stuff!

Victor's face flushed, but he felt a surge of pleasure.

Victor: Keep going...

Anonymous_Guy25: Oh, I will. Check this one out, Mr. V! 😏

Each photo was more humiliating than the last, and Victor couldn't help but touch himself, his cock hardening with every message.

Anonymous_Guy25: You're such a faggot, Victor. Getting off on this? 😈

Victor: Yes...yes, I am. Please, don't stop.

The stranger's tone became crueler as he realized the power he held.

Anonymous_Guy25: I could expose you to everyone, you know? I could ruin you.

Victor's arousal was now mixed with a hint of fear, but he was too far gone to stop.

Victor: I know...I trust you.

Anonymous_Guy25: Trust me? I could be anyone, and you just gave me the keys to your little secret world.

Chapter 3: Exposed and Aroused

The stranger's words were like a drug to Victor, pushing him further into the depths of his kink.

Victor: I know...expose me. I want it.

Anonymous_Guy25: You're a real piece of work, Victor. Okay, I'll play your game. But remember, you asked for this.

The next message contained a link to a website, 'x.com'. Victor's heart nearly stopped as he clicked it, revealing a page dedicated to his nudes.

Anonymous_Guy25: There you go, faggot. Your little secret is out. 😈

Victor's eyes widened as he scrolled through the page, seeing his intimate photos on display for anyone to see. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and incredibly turned on.

Victor: Oh God...you did it. I'm...I'm so hard right now.

Anonymous_Guy25: I know you are, you little freak. Enjoying the show?

Victor: Yes...but what if someone I know sees this?

Anonymous_Guy25: That's the risk you take, isn't it? But don't worry, I'll keep your little secret for now. Unless...

Victor's breath caught in his throat, knowing the stranger had him exactly where he wanted.

Victor: Unless what?

Anonymous_Guy25: Unless you want more. I can always add more content, expose you further. But it'll cost you.

Victor's mind raced, his rational thoughts battling his intense arousal. He knew he should be worried, but the humiliation and exposure were like a drug he couldn't resist.

Victor: What...what do you want?

Anonymous_Guy25: I'll think about it. For now, enjoy your little fame, loser. 😏

Victor was left alone with his throbbing erection, staring at his exposed self on the screen, both terrified and exhilarated.

Chapter 4: The Aftermath

In the following days, Victor found himself constantly checking the x.com page, both eager for more attention and terrified of the consequences. His rational mind knew he should be worried, but the thrill of exposure kept him coming back.

He messaged the stranger again, unable to resist.

Victor: Hey...any more surprises for me?

Anonymous_Guy25: Surprises? You want more? 😈

Victor: I...I think so. I can't stop thinking about it.

Anonymous_Guy25: Good to know I've got your attention, faggot. I might have something special planned.

Victor's heart sank as he realized he was now at the mercy of this anonymous man.

Victor: What do you mean?

Anonymous_Guy25: You'll see. Just remember, you gave me the power. Now, I own you.

Victor's mind raced with possibilities, both exciting and terrifying. He knew he had made a deal with the devil, but the thought of more humiliation and exposure kept him from backing out.

As the days went by, Victor waited, his life now a rollercoaster of emotions, all because of a stranger he had let into his world.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 4

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 4: forever tied

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

Whispers filled my ears. They turned into moans, morphed into wails, and pierced my eardrums with screams. The terrified faces circled me and their cloudy claws passed through my body. I couldn't breathe and my entire body was frozen in place. I couldn't move.

Striker's yellow eyes popped open. His smile emerged and glinted in the light. He wrapped his claws around my throat and a horrible collection of wails escaped his open jaws as they came down on my face.

I shot up with a yell. I clutched my chest as my eyes scanned the dim room. Everything was so still that I could see the dust drifting to the floor. There was nothing and no one here. My heart was still pounding in my ears as I stretched out my magic sense. Alastor was already downstairs but it had felt like he had been in my room only moments ago.

I let out a sigh and fell back into my bed. I had been having a ski load nightmare every now and then. It was making me concerned that I was having repeated dreams now.

I stretched in an effort to release the adrenaline. That's when I noticed a plate on the bedside table with three small cubes of meat. My mouth immediately started to water but I hesitated. He had been in my room. Why did he leave them, though? What was in them? Another mind drug of some kind? Something else?

I couldn't resist though and, sitting up, I ate one of the cubes and got myself ready for the day. When nothing happened, aside from the satisfying feeling of my cravings disappearing, I ate the other two. I found Husker in the kitchen and asked about the plate. He shrugged and also found it odd that Alastor had left them for me.

It took only two days for me to realize Alastor was putting distance between us. Training sessions stopped and he wouldn't try to touch me. It actually became rare for us to be in the same room. Had I worn him out? Was something about to happen? Was he keeping his distance to see if I would chase after him for that rush of energy when we touched?

Regardless of his reasons, I was happy to have a break from him. My chest felt lighter and I found myself spending more and more time in the Safe Haven. I would help where I could but most of the time I just watched everything and everyone. Vivian, our teacher, had a schedule for the children that allowed them time inside learning and outside playing. When we spoke, she had mentioned how surprised she was that she needed to teach them social skills and basic things about our world. I reminded her that most of them could only remember being trapped in cages and only allowed out when they had to fight. Manners weren't a thing.

Fights were still a common thing among the young children. The teenagers were able to ignore that instinct, for the most part, but the younger ones were not used to settling their problems with words rather than fists. When I first began watching the lessons, I thought Vivian would need help stopping these fights. Though it took only seconds for her to pull them apart and sit them back in their seats. She was a kind, quiet woman but she didn't play around when it came to these petty fights. As good as I was at stopping the older folks fight, she was fantastic at preventing most of them before they happened.

Althea was much like me in the observing and watching aspect. She sat on the steps to her hut and watched the construction. We had been fortunate enough that most injuries were minor but every now and then someone would get sick and a few others would follow. She was able to keep the sickness from spreading and made them feel better by the next day. I noticed her hair was turning a bright green at her roots, telling me that she had a different hair color hiding underneath the black dye.

The Safe Haven was now called the Hazbin Haven, serving as a tribute and show of respect for Charlie's hotel. The princess was all over the place, seemingly never still or resting. I caught Vaggie having to forcefully pull her away from a project to make her sleep.

Alastor brought the journalist, Spencer, to the haven to take a picture of what had been built already. The man kept himself as small as possible as he walked beside Alastor. It wasn't until a few minutes after they had been talking that Spencer seemed to stand taller and had a genuine smile on his face. What were they talking about?

It wasn't until Spencer started taking pictures with an old camera that I finally figured out why Alastor was talking to him so much. They had a common interest - old technology. Alastor brought him back to his old print shop once he had finished. From how long he was taking, I could guess he was making sure everything in the article was perfect.

As the days went on, I found myself spending more and more time with Althea and Vivian. I ate dinner with everyone in the grand hall but usually sat with the two women instead of Charlie's group. Husker made it a point to have breakfast with me every morning after my comment awhile back. It felt good to spend time with just him again.

A meeting with Charlie revealed that we had far more humans than Demons at the haven. She failed at recruiting more of the overpopulated Demons from Hell. No one wanted anything to do with the Radio Demon. It didn't make sense, though, considering that they were more likely to be murdered if they didn't belong to the haven that the princess of Hell was running.

So Charlie started paying close attention to social media and the news. She would listen for the scheduled executions for Demons and ask me to go with her to save them. These publicized executions had disappeared on this side of the continent but was still a wide practice elsewhere.

I should've known our luck would run out soon.

Charlie teleported us just outside a city. We scouted the buildings to find where the Demons were being held until their execution. It was well past midnight and very dark with a new moon. They were scheduled to die in four hours.

I waited on the roof with Charlie as Vaggie and a few others went into the jailhouse. My senses were on high alert and something in the air felt off. For a big city, it was awfully quiet. Usually cities this big had officers walking through the streets.

"Something's wrong," I said to Charlie. I stretched out my magic sense to Husker and the others but they seemed fine. They were still moving around and no fear was emitting from anyone.

Husker opened the door and a collection of officers had the entrance circled in an instant. Their guns cocked and the tips pointed right at his chest. Half the group was already outside but not a single gun went off yet.

I wasn't going to let it. I ran across the roof and glided into the center of the circle. I casted a huge gust of wind right as I landed, throwing everyone off their feet. I whipped my wings up and back so the dust dispersed faster. I looked and felt bigger, my shadow covering the bewildered faces. I noticed a few of them escaped down the closest street.

"Fire!" the captain yelled. I curled my claws inward and the tips of their rifles bent upwards. Some of them backfired painfully. The group began to disperse as the captain screamed and ordered them to stand their ground.

I slowly paced towards the captain. He dropped his rifle and pulled a smaller one from his hip. I casted it out of his grip with a flick of my fingers. I needed only to take a few more steps before he ran down a street after his men.

I noticed onlookers from the surrounding buildings. Many of them had their phones out recording me. I really hoped this wouldn't do more damage than good.

When I turned on my heels to face the group, I noticed a look of awe on some of their faces. There was a mix of various horns, tails, feathers, fur, and more. I stayed in my Demon form as I approached the group. Husker and I touched claws before he took the lead down the street. I brought up the rear, helping an injured mother carrying a newborn baby. Was this city really going to kill a baby?

Charlie was ecstatic about having more Demons around. Althea had her hands full healing pressing injuries from when they had been forcefully taken and imprisoned.

I kept my distance and watched from afar, content on the flat roof of one of the new buildings. Some of the current residents had woken up from the commotion and came out to see what was happening. Many of the current Demons came to meet the newcomers, happy to have more people like themselves.

My ear twitched at the sound of Alastor's shadow work. I remained in my sitting position and listened to the tap of his boots and cane. His presence was around my shields but not up against it like usual.

"Something on your mind?" His radio filter buzzed in my ear.

"Just thinking." I pulled one leg up to rest my chin on it.

"About?"

I was silent for a moment. "We're trying to help people but it's our fault for them needing it in the first place."

"What do you mean?" I heard him shift his feet to look at me completely.

"If we hadn't made a broadcast about Demon-kind, they might still be okay to live their life without fear."

"They would have to hide their true nature their entire life. What life is that to live?"

"Better than being hunted by everyone and forced to live somewhere else." I scratched at a spot near my foot.

"You ought to spend more time with Charlie," he said, "She talks endlessly about how happy some folks are. You seem to always be involved in the disputes."

I stretched my hearing to listen to the conversations. The mother I had been helping was thanking Charlie repeatedly. The others were talking to current residents about believing they would never see the light of day again. They were actually happy?

"You seem to be distant lately," I ventured, changing the subject. I kept my eyes focused on the group instead of his sharp smile.

"Does that bother you?" He cocked his head to the side.

"It's out of character for you. Is there a reason?"

"Not in particular." He rubbed his claws together. "Rosie has been asking of you. She wants to see you again."

"That would be nice." I heard little whispers and tilted my head to look up at him.

"Hm?" He caught my quick turn.

"Nothing. Thought I heard something." I continued to watch the group from afar. It took me a minute before I realized Alastor was in my head again. I hadn't felt him push through my shields. He was just a cool presence almost blending with mine.

Surprising myself, I let my own presence become more mailable and smaller, allowing him to cover entirely and meld with me. I followed his magic trail and wound my way into his own mindscape. Well, it wasn't his mindscape—more like his memories.

I could see him and Spencer bent over the first article. Then I could see him watching me and Husker from the upstairs window. It faded to him and Rosie talking in her store. I could hear this conversation plain as day, as if he was also visiting it and letting it play out.

I felt my heart drop in my stomach. He did have a reason for keeping his distance. He had started his plan to 'treat me nicely' so I would actually care about him. It jumped to previous conversations with Rosie and if my mouth was working, it was hanging open.

He was trying to strengthen our connection so he could test out its abilities and limits. He didn't actually want to have a connection, he just wanted me to be at his level enough to make it strong. It was all a trick, all manipulation. I wasn't hurt or surprised. I knew he was a manipulative freak but it made me angry.

My distaste wobbled the connection. I was harshly thrown back to my own mind and the back of my head hit the edge of the roof.

"Don't ever do that again!" he snapped. He was bent forward and his knees locked. His antlers had stretched out as his eyes darkened to the red dials.

As he stood up I shoved him back with my legs. He stumbled and his tentacles came up to pin my legs to the roof. He dusted off his chest where I had pushed him and stalked towards me.

"You won't succeed!" I yelled, making him pause. "I'll make sure you never taste the feeling of our power. I'm not a tool to be used."

"You are a headache," he hissed, curling a red claw near my face.

"I'm not the one manipulating someone for my own benefit."

"If you actually worked with me this would be easier for both of us."

I sliced my claws through his tentacles and they faded into shadows. We both stood up simultaneously. "Have you forgotten how you started this? How you kidnapped me, how you treated me, how you drugged me." I was expecting him to take a step back as I advanced but he didn't. I let myself grow slightly bigger so I was almost at his eye level. "You invade my personal space and my mind. Why would I want to work with you?"

His smile didn't fade, his eyes narrowing and his presence wrapping around me. This one felt hot and heavy, dangerously claustrophobic. He said, "I have been incredibly patient and kind with you." I scoffed, taking a step back to put distance again. "I could have you back in a cage in a dark basement. No one would ever know where you were and no one would ever come looking. You'd be trapped down there for eternity. Yet I have not done that. I have provided you with a bed, clothes, food, and recently an incredible amount of freedom. If our fates were not tied, you would not be alive."

"But we are." I used my Human form and slowly stepped toward him. "Our souls are forever tied. We may even be powerful together, but unless you can treat me with even just the basic amount of respect, nothing will come of it." My legs were dangersouly close to visibly shaking and my palms were wet with sweat. I felt like I was dangling myself over the jaws of a bear trap, not sure when or if I will fall into it.

My airways started to close. I fought against his magic to reopen them but he was much stronger. I collapsed to my knees as the lack of oxygen took all my energy. I tried so hard to just breathe. He couldn't kill me but this was dangerous.

"Your lack of respect towards me does not warrant more on my end." He stepped close so his boots almost touched my hands. I fell onto my elbows and eventually my back. The corners of my vision were getting darker, zoning in on his terrifying face. "I'm the one in control. Until you've reached my level, which I expect to take centuries, that fact will always remain."

My airways opened up just enough for me to get a little more oxygen. I rolled onto my elbows in an effort to stand, though it was in vain. He bent down and pulled my chin up so I was forced to look him in the eyes.

"You are mine for eternity." The venom in his voice wasn't as sharp but the threat was still there. "This will work in my favor one way or another. I'm gracing you with the opportunity to choose how in which that happens." He let go of my face and my airways opened. I sucked in the sweet, cold air as he disappeared into the shadows.

I thought I had this handled.

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

Author's Note:

Ooooooh to have Alastor say 'you are mine for eternity' :P

[enormities-writes]

please Simon Bellamy angst with fluffy ending !!

Trust | Simon Bellamy x !GN Reader

Summary: Simon has been lying to you and you just can't handle it anymore.

Warnings: Angst, pet names like "love," "honey," etc., descriptions of wounds and injuries, established relationship, crying, kinda a quick/rushed conclusion?, arguments, etc.

Words: 2288

A/N: I'm pretty sure things like height and stuff aren't touched on. The ending and the length of the fight are a little too short for my liking, but oh well. This might be ooc for Simon, I can't remember exactly how he acted after his future self died and he started living at the apartment thingy.

Thank you so much to the person who requested this! I hope you like it. <3

Masterlist

Please do not copy or translate any of my work. Thank you!

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

You relax on blankets and pillows of gray, the soft, plush fibers of the fabric caressing your skin. As you open your eyes to the dark of the room, your eyes trace the figure next to you, soft rhythmic breathing causing the blankets on top of him to rise and fall calmly. 

And even through the tranquil atmosphere of the apartment, there was a nagging voice at the back of your head. Constantly pointing out the bruises on his skin, the cuts and scrapes that are hidden underneath his clothing, when you would hug him in just the wrong spot and he would flinch away from you.

It had been apparent for a few weeks now. Every time you saw yet another injury, your concern would grow more and the nagging voice would grow louder. Until the only thing that you thought of when you talked to him was if he was okay. And why he was lying to you.

A person can only deal with lies and deflected questions for so long. Until the nagging voice instead becomes anxiety and uncertainty. 

You loved him with all of your heart, you really did. But everything was getting harder to ignore with each passing day.

As you wake up in the morning, gentle fingertips trace shapes and letters into the soft skin of your arm. The touching is loving but soft and careful as to not wake you of your slumber, the touch just barely gliding on your skin.

The lights in the apartment are dimmed, a contrast to their usual bright, glairing, white light that mimics a sterile hospital room.

The first thing your eyes focus on are icy blue ones. Their depth being like ice floating in an ocean, the dark depths of the unknown beautiful yet scary compared to the white sky.

A smile graces his lips, the corners curving up, his cheeks becoming fuller and lines indenting around his mouth. “Goodmorning, love.” 

His voice cuts out at the end, the deepness cutting off the vibrations of his vocal chords. His voice is scratchy and deeper than normal, but welcomed, a warm feeling forming at the pit of your stomach.

“Morning” Your voice comes out more love sick than you intend it to. Sleep threatens to make your eyes close but you will them open, gazing at his face just inches from yours.

Your hand comes up, brushing against his side and going to rest upon his rib cage when he hisses, pulling away sharply, as if you’d burned him. As if the mere touch of your fingertips on his side was like fire gracing his flesh.

His brows push together, the skin between them creasing as the muscles move. “What’s wrong?” Your voice is immediate, the sleep immediately retreating as adrenaline spikes through your veins, eyes opening wide, heart pounding in your chest.

“Are you okay?” Your hand goes to reach at the hem of his shirt to investigate the cause for his pain but a strong, firm hand catches your own. 

“I’m fine.” The lie leaves his full lips with ease, practiced a thousand times before. The notion of being fine immediately contradicts the look in his eye, the false notion being disbelieved easily.

A sigh leaves your lips as the warm feeling in your stomach turns cold. He’d been doing this for weeks. Getting hurt or injured and passing it off as nothing even though he's visibly hurting.

“Okay” The words leave your lips softly, the feeling of defeat settling on your tongue and you sit up in bed, the blankets rustling with your departure.

There’s an unsaid question in his gaze as he watches your movements, his eyes following your form as you get out of bed and head over to the dresser, your bare feet paddling on the floor.

You pick out comfortable clothes. The once welcome, wholesome, warm silence has been replaced by one of anxiety, despair, and heartache. The silence is deafening. The silence is so loud. The silence is crippling. Unnerving.

As you bring a new shirt over your head, the soft fabric tickling your skin, he decides to break it. The silence.

“What’s wrong?” It sounds so unlike him. Sure, when he's nervous and he brings a hand over the hair on his head to soothe himself, he might speak a little softer, a little more unsure of himself. But he sounds so incredibly heartbreaking. Like he’s swimming in misery. Like he's drowning in it. Like he’s choking on every little droplet.

Him keeping everything from you is killing him. Not only does he not know how you’d react if he told you the truth, but he also doesn't want you to be put in danger. So, he lies. 

He’s lied about everything. Where he’s going, if he's injured, how he's injured, why he comes home so exhausted, what he did all day, everything. And it’s eating him up inside.

He wants to be a hero but he doesn't want you to be put in the middle of it all. He doesn't want you to worry or be forced to do things you don’t want to. Plus, he just never figured out how to tell you. So he kept deflecting and lying and avoiding.

He loves you with all of his heart, you deserve the world. So with every lie and little piece of bullshit he comes up with and throws at you, a part of him cracks. It started as a little nick, a little imperfection on a smooth and sturdy surface.

But every day, every falsification, every half-truth, it would crack a little more. Until the cracks made jagged holes. Eventually, whole pieces were missing. At this point, he doesn't have many more pieces to lose. 

Every fallen section piled up, becoming heavy. Every tiny piece crumbling down adding to the ton already there. And he had to carry it. He had to carry its weight. He was forced to pick it up everyday and forced to lie and just make it bigger.

He was about to collapse. No more pieces to lose and too many to carry. They slipped out of his hands, off of his shoulders and into the empty abyss where it feels like he's never going to get them back. It was all slipping.

“I think I should stay with Alisha or something. Just for a little while.” As you pull socks over your feet, the words come out heavily. You just can’t handle it anymore. You have to get out of this. You have to finally have the chance to breathe. To get the lump at the back of your throat to leave. Vanish.

“W-what? Why?” You hear the blankets be tossed aside, rushed footsteps pattering against the floor as he hurriedly rushes over. Warm hands grace your hips but you move out of the way, brushing them off. 

You can’t be sucked in by affection anymore. If you cave, it’ll just be more days of suffering. Of lies and false promises.

“I just can’t do this anymore.” The words are choked out as you pass by, grabbing your shoes and walking over to the plush bed to slip them on.

“Do what? Hey, we can talk about this.” He firmly brushes the hair on his head down with his palm, a nervous tick he picked up when he was younger.

Your vision becomes blurry with unshed tears, they rush over your waterline, easily slipping down your cheek, staining your skin with the hot liquid. You hurriedly wipe them away, frustrated that they showed up in the first place. You meet his eyes for the first time since you woke up, tears threatening to boil over.

“Talk about it? Fine. Why are you lying to me?” The words come out much more aggressive and hateful, slicing through the room like a knife, cutting him down at just the words leaving your mouth.

“I..”

“Of course you’ve got nothing to fucking say.” At this point, the voice and ball at the back of your throat and the anxiety becomes burning hot anger. All of the emotions bubbling up into rage. The tears of frustration become ones of anger, tears hot with it. 

You sharply stand up from the bed, stepping closer to him, chest starting to heave with exertion of emotions and the will to hold them back.

“The second you actually have to talk about your actions and the reason why your lying to me and coming home looking like someone BEAT YOU UP, you have nothing to fucking say. I mean Jesus Christ, how much do you not trust me to-”

His voice cuts yours off, sharp, quick to defend himself. But the look in his eyes is still caring, still cradling the conversation in his hands, wanting you to know that you're cared for and loved.

“Of course I trust you. You just don't understand.” He looks almost offended at the notion.

“Then just tell me! Make me fucking understand! I can't understand if you tell me nothing! You can't expect me to see you getting hurt and being exhausted and coming home in the middle of the night if you continuously lie about absolutely EVERYTHING!”

Your hands wave in the air aggressively, movements sharp and intense.

“I’m TRYING to keep you safe! There’s a reason I lie! I have to do this. You wouldn’t understand and you’d always be stressed.” His voice is nervous yet heated, a tremor in his tone, his eyes wide.

“I’m already always stressed! I mean, fuck, atleast I’d know whats going on with you! I mean what about this?” You take big, swift steps towards him, hands grabbing the end of his shirt and yanking it up, eyes landing on a purple and blue bruise, the discoloration traveling up his side and across his rib cage.

The sight ceases any train of thought, tears falling down your cheeks, your wet eyelashes sticking together as you blink, silently gazing at the offending injury.

“I want to be a hero.” His voice breaks the silence, his voice soft but steady and slightly gravely. 

Your eyes snap up towards his, the sentence shocking you out of your stare. “What?” The words come out with a crack, sniffling, gawking at him.

“That’s why I’ve been lying to you. The guy on the motorcycle who was saving us was my future self. I want to be like him. I need to live up to him. Save people. Keep you safe.”

You look at him incredulously, not knowing whether to laugh, hug him, or slap him. Your hand drifts down, the fabric of his shirt falling from your grip, not wanting to see or be reminded of the wound.

“I’m getting better. I don’t fall as much anymore and I’m getting stronger.”

The room fills with silence, only filled by the occasional sniffling from your mostly-clogged nose and the quiet humming of the fluorescent overhead lights.

“Why don’t you trust me?” It sounds sad leaving your lips. Almost pitiful. Your bottom lip unconsciously pouts out, trembling slightly. His eyes drift down to it, feeling a pit of guilt that he was the one who made you feel this way. His voice is soft and ashamed.

“Of course I trust you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“That’s not your decision to make.” As you croak out the sentence, Simon reaches up and wipes the tear stuck on your cheek. You don’t pull away or slap his hand away from you which Simon takes as a good sign. You still love him. You just want answers.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just..” He lets out a miserable sigh and tilts his head down to the floor.

“If it’s something you really want to do then I want to help” His head sharply whips up, his eyes locking with yours.

“I’m not happy with you. I hate you lying to me and I despise how you didn’t even think to ask what I thought about the situation like you thought you knew better than me… But I can’t watch you get hurt. I love you too much.”

“I love you too. And I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t ever do that again. It wasn’t fair or healthy. You're everything to me and I can’t imagine you not being here.”

His eyes are glassy as he rests his forehead on yours, sniffling and choked breaths being the only thing passing between the two of you.

“I’m so sorry, honey. You deserve so much more than me lying to you.”

He whispers the words, his lips brushing yours with each word.

You tilt your head and your lips meet in a wet kiss, your cheeks still drying of tears. And you put all of your feelings and emotions into the kiss, teasing his tongue with yours as your lips meld together. Your hand comes up, grabbing onto the back of his neck, pressing him further into you. His hands go straight to your hips, wrapping around you in a loving hug.

You pull away, panting slightly. 

“You're still in trouble, ya know.”

His lips quirk up even with the evidence of the fight still on his face. “I know, love. I deserve it.”

“You’re a dick.” Your voice comes out with a wet laugh.

“I know.” His eyes admire yours for a second, just looking on with a spark in his eyes. He brings you back into a kiss, and you let yourself melt into it.

Even if it’s not perfect, this moment feels a lot more whole than it had in a while and that’s all you can ask for. His honesty and his love.

[starset21]

Mistakes

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower. THIS IS ALL FICTION. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships.

Warnings: self doubt

WC: 2.6k

Summery: A simple mistake causes a set back in Casey's progress

Looking for more? Chasing the Line series masterlist

The Japan Grand Prix had started out with so much promise for Casey Winters. The summer break was behind her, and she had come out strong, claiming three second-place finishes—all behind Max Verstappen, her teammate and friend. Every time, it had felt like she was getting closer to matching his pace, and the confidence was building. But Suzuka wasn’t going to be another race in her streak of near-perfection. The technical circuit had always been a challenge, but today, it felt like everything was lining up for her to take that elusive first place. Then, the mistake came. It was a corner, a simple one. She’d been battling with Charles Leclerc for second after a pit stop and had been trying to push the limits to gain a little more time on Max. In the heat of the moment, she misjudged the entry into the Spoon Curve. Her tire slipped just a fraction too much, sending her into the gravel. Her car skidded and stopped, completely stuck, leaving her with a DNF—the kind of result that sent shockwaves through her chest. Her head dropped, as she shut the car off. No finish. No points. 

Casey’s hands were still shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. The car was dead in the gravel, completely immobilized. Her race was over, and as she sat there, staring blankly at the screen in front of her, the adrenaline of the moment began to drain from her body. It was all too much. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but it felt distant, like she was watching herself from outside her body. "What did I do?" was the only thought that kept running through her mind. Her tires had been perfect before the mistake, and she’d been so close to gaining another position after the pit stops. Climbing out of the car felt like a chore. Every motion was slow, deliberate, like she was going through the motions but disconnected from herself. As she slid out of the cockpit, the wind hit her face, cold against her sweaty skin. She pulled her helmet off, the weight of the moment crushing her. The camera flashes from the photographers only made her feel smaller, as if they were zooming in on the failure rather than her accomplishments. 

Her first DNF of the season. 

She made her way back to the garage, barely hearing the calls of her engineers or the team. Their congratulations for Max echoed in the distance, the sounds of his win filling the space around her like a steady, oppressive drumbeat. She didn’t want to face anyone, didn’t want to be around the team, the media, or anyone who was still caught up in the celebration of Max’s victory but she had to. Everyone else seemed so alive, so full of energy, but she felt like she was slowly sinking under the weight of the disappointment. She went through the motions in the media pen before walking off to have a moment to herself. That moment turned to a few hours and people were beginning to worry. 

It was Max who found her first, hiding behind one of the stacks of tires. He’d noticed almost immediately she was in her head when she walked into the garage, her posture stiff, her gaze unfocused. Instead of diving into the usual post-race routine after the media, he made a point to pull away from the crowd. Max was aware of the tension in the air, the way Casey’s body language screamed that something wasn’t right. He saw her eyes already downcast, the disappointment radiating from her like a heavy fog. 

Without saying anything at first, Max just walked toward her slowly, making his presence known. There was no rush in his steps. Just a quiet intention. When he reached her, he didn’t immediately say anything. He wasn’t going to force her to talk. He simply stood next to her, close enough that she could feel his presence but not too close to crowd her. He let her gather herself. The garage buzzed around them, but he remained a calm anchor in the storm of activity. After a long pause, Casey finally let out a breath, so deep it almost sounded like a sigh of resignation.

“I… I messed it up, Max. I was doing so well. And I just… blew it,” she said quietly. Max glanced at her, his brow furrowed slightly. He could see how hard she was being on herself. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it, but he wasn’t going to let her drown in it, either. “It happens. It’s part of racing. You can’t always get it perfect. We all have those moments.” Casey shook her head, looking up at him. There was frustration there. It wasn’t just about this one race. It was about the pressure of being seen as someone who should be good enough, someone who could keep up with Max, someone who could take the fight to the front. “I’m always the one who messes it up. Always the one who makes the mistake when it matters most.” Max was quiet for a moment, processing her words. He understood the pressure she was feeling. Hell, he lived with it in nearly every race. The world expected him to be perfect, to win every time. But the weight of that pressure often left him feeling just as uncertain as Casey did now.

 He exhaled slowly, stepping a little closer to her, his eyes meeting hers in a rare moment of vulnerability. “I screw up, too. You think I don’t make mistakes, even when it looks easy from the outside? Sometimes I feel like I should be perfect, but I’m not. I get frustrated with myself. I get angry. But that’s part of it. You’ve got to take it and use it to fuel the next race.” Casey blinked, taking in his words. She had never expected Max to admit that. It felt strange to hear him say it, but it also gave her a little relief. “Really?” Max gave a small, understanding nod, his gaze steady. “Yeah. It’s not all wins and podiums, Casey. It’s the crashes and the mistakes that make us better. We learn from them, even when it feels like we’ve failed.” Casey looked at him for a moment, the words sinking in. She wasn’t sure it made it easier, but at least she knew she wasn’t alone in feeling this way. “Thanks, Max… I think I needed a reminder of that.” Max gave a quick nod, his usual confidence returning as he patted her on the back. “No problem. Just remember—one bad race doesn’t define you. You’ve got a long career ahead of you.” Casey watched him walk away, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over her. This wasn’t the end of the road for her. Maybe, with time, she would get there—get to the point where she could take on the pressure, where she could battle Max without letting the fear of making mistakes cripple her. For now, though, she had something to focus on: learning, growing, and getting back on track.

“Is Pressure Too Much for Casey Winters? Red Bull’s Rookie Faces a Crucial Turning Point”

By Jamie Heartly

After a season that began with so much promise, Casey Winters’ heartbreaking DNF at the 2023 Japanese Grand Prix has prompted serious questions about her ability to handle the unrelenting pressure of Formula 1. As the 2023 Formula 1 season entered its final race before the summer break, the excitement surrounding rookie driver Casey Winters has been palpable, she had won. Coming off of summer break she had a string of solid second-place finishes behind teammate Max Verstappen, many thought that the American driver had not only adapted to the brutal pace of F1, but was quickly becoming one of the most exciting talents on the grid. However, the Japanese Grand Prix, traditionally a race known for its high stakes and intensity, became a bitter reminder of the razor-thin margins between success and failure in Formula 1. Winters had shown great pace all weekend, starting from P2 on the grid, and appeared set to challenge Verstappen for the win in the early stages. But as the race progressed, a small error in the Spoon Curve, a seemingly inconsequential misjudgment, sent her careening off the track and out of the race—her first DNF of the season. The aftermath has been dominated by criticism and concern. While Verstappen’s perfect race was a triumph for Red Bull Racing, all eyes quickly turned to Casey, who had to wrestle with both the personal and public fallout of her mistake.

“I let the team down,” Winters was overheard saying in the garage post-race, the frustration and self-doubt in her voice clear to all who were within earshot. For someone who had enjoyed a strong run of form after the summer break—three consecutive second-place finishes, no less—the DNF in Japan was especially tough to swallow. The stakes were high, and for a rookie like Winters, the opportunity to prove herself against a reigning world champion like Verstappen was something that couldn’t be taken lightly. But beyond the race itself, external pressure has been quietly building ever since she joined Red Bull as the second driver, a position where the expectations are always sky-high.

Fans and pundits alike have been watching her every move, analyzing her performance at every race, and wondering: Is she up to the task? For a young driver, the mental toll of Formula 1 can be overwhelming, especially when paired with the massive expectations that come with being part of one of the sport’s most successful teams. Winters’ every mistake seems amplified in the public eye, while Verstappen, her teammate, continues to deliver at an almost inhuman level. The contrast is stark, and while Verstappen’s supremacy is clear, Casey’s own journey is marked by a more complicated narrative of growth, mistakes, and resilience.

While the F1 world is abuzz with post-race analysis, social media has been a place of polarized opinions about Casey’s performance.

@RacingAnalyst16: A rookie making a mistake isn’t the end of the world, but in a team like Red Bull, it raises questions. Can Casey handle the heat, or is she cracking under the pressure? #F1 #CaseyWinters

@FormulaFanaticUSA: I still believe in Casey Winters. Her DNF was hard to watch, but it’s one race. She’s shown she can hang with Max all season. Everyone has their bad days. #KeepPushing #CaseyWinters #F1

@MaxVerstappen_16: "So proud of Max for winning, but Casey has my respect. This sport is so unforgiving, but she’s got what it takes to come back stronger. One mistake doesn’t change that. #F1 #RedBull #Resilience"

@RookieF1: "Can we talk about the pressure on Casey Winters? She’s a rookie, but with Red Bull’s expectations, I wonder if she’s getting the support she needs. This sport is brutal. #F1 #CaseyWinters"

After the DNF at the Japanese Grand Prix, the media narrative surrounding Casey is harsh and unforgiving. Pundits and fans are quick to dissect her mistake, questioning whether she’s mentally tough enough for Formula 1. The pressure on her intensifies, and she finds herself retreating more and more into herself, her quiet moments filled with self-doubt and frustration. She feels like she did in the beginning of the season again, her confidence shaken. Her usual upbeat demeanor fades, and she becomes more withdrawn, feeling the weight of the expectations that come with being a Red Bull driver. As the team prepares for the next race, Max can’t help but notice the change in Casey. She’s quieter than usual, less animated. She seems to be carrying a weight that isn’t just from the DNF. Where before, they’d share light-hearted banter and discuss strategy during their prep, now there’s an uncomfortable silence between them. 

It’s not until the debriefing session before they are due to head to Qatar, that Max makes a subtle but significant gesture toward Casey. The meeting is tense, with the team reviewing data from Japan and talking strategy. When the topic of Casey’s crash is brought up, the air thickens. The room goes quiet for a second too long, and Casey feels the weight of all eyes on her. She feels like she’s under a microscope, and the familiar feeling of being judged creeps in. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words catch in her throat. Max, sensing her discomfort, glances her way and offers a small, reassuring look—something that says “I’ve been there.” His eyes soften for a second, a silent recognition of her struggle.

In the debriefing, Max offers practical advice—his usual straightforward, competitive nature—but there’s a tone of quiet support underneath. He doesn’t lecture her. He doesn’t criticize. Instead, it’s clear he’s offering her a path forward, sharing his own experience of learning from mistakes. "You know, Suzuka’s tricky. It happens. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s just about learning from it and moving on. You'll come back stronger." The words are simple, but the weight behind them is genuine. Casey meets his gaze for a moment, and in that instant, there’s a quiet understanding between them. It’s not about winning or losing—it’s about resilience.

After the meeting, Max finds Casey in the garage, going over telemetry with her engineers. It’s clear she’s trying to distract herself with data, focusing on the technical aspects of her car rather than the emotional impact of the race. Max steps in quietly, leaning against the wall as she works. "You’re doing everything right, Casey. You’ve got the pace. Just don’t overthink it." Casey looks up, surprised at his presence. She tries to smile, but it’s a faint attempt. "I just… I keep thinking about that corner. It was such a small mistake, but it cost me everything." Max nods, his expression unchanged but his eyes sharp with understanding. "I get it. You’re not the first to make that mistake. Hell, I’ve done it myself. You’ll learn from it, just like I did. But don’t let it keep eating at you." Casey turns toward him, her defenses still up but softening a bit at his words. There’s a small part of her that wants to shut him out, but she knows he’s been in her shoes, and it helps. There’s an unexpected comfort in his quiet confidence—like he’s not just telling her what she wants to hear, but what she needs to hear.

The days after their conversation begin to feel different. Casey starts to re-find her rhythm, her confidence building as she refocuses on the upcoming race. The media still hounds her, but Max is there, offering quiet encouragement and support whenever he can. They start to work even better as a team, the camaraderie between them subtly shifting. There’s a trust that really begins to form—a mutual respect, not just as teammates but as individuals facing similar challenges. Max’s earlier gesture, his words, and the quiet moments of solidarity help Casey start to shake off the sting of her DNF. But it’s not just Max’s professional demeanor that starts to affect her. Slowly, the emotional distance between them starts to erode.

Casey notices how Max goes out of his way to check in on her, even if it’s just a quick comment in the debrief or a simple nod in her direction when they pass each other. The gestures are small, but they’re meaningful. It’s clear that, beyond being just teammates, there’s something growing—something unspoken—between them. Whether it’s the pressure of being part of the same elite team or just the shared vulnerability of two drivers constantly under scrutiny, the connection deepens. Max’s understanding, his words of encouragement, and his willingness to open up to her in a way he hasn’t with anyone else mark a turning point in their relationship. They’re no longer just teammates—they’re two people who can rely on each other, both professionally and emotionally.

taglist: @dreadity @sweate-r-weathe-r

[writers-requiem]

Okay, so this is for me personally since I still cannot get that day out of my head. For context, Saturday, April 6th, I went to the Gem State Comic Con and met Spencer Wilding, the stunt actor for Benicio Del Toro in "The Wolfman (2010)" I even took a picture and got a signed photo by him. Since then I've been having dreams of werewolf Lawrence that don't seem to show any signs of going away so I thought I'd share one of them with you all. Also as a bit of added context, since it's a dream, it doesn't follow the canon of the film, so expect that.

A Night of Thrills, Drinks & Cuddles With The Wolfman

(The Wolfman x Author)

Genere: Kissing, Fluff, Small Thriller, Comfort

Pairing: The Wolfman (2010 version) x Author (me)

Rating: E 10+ for Everyone 10 and up

Warnings: Slight thriller

I was in the middle of the forest, sitting on a ravine by a rushing waterfall, just enjoying the moment. A calm from the chaos of everything going on in the world. I had a sketchbook out and a pencil in hand, just doodling away. The sound of rushing water and rustling leaves helped me to center myself so I could remain focused on the task I was doing. Overall, not a bad time really. I looked to see that it was a full moon tonight. I didn't think anything of it and thought I 'd be safe. After all, werewolves or horrible creatures of the night don't truly exist do they?

But then I heard a twig snap. It sounded rather far away and so I assumed that it was probably a bear or wolf. Dangerous creatures yes, but usually only if they feel threatened. So I just went back to my sketches and listened to the wind blowing in the trees and the sound of wolves howling to the moon herself. Then I heard footsteps and they were, closing in, on my position. I brushed it off as an animal, curious about a human being in their territory. But out of a mix of my own curiosity and paranoia, I turned around to see who or what was behind me. To my surprise I saw the silhouette of a man in the distance, in this foggy night forest. I assumed someone was trying to play some kind of prank on me and I had caught them before they could make their move. So I just waved to them, acknowledging that they were indeed there and went back to drawing again.

That's when I heard a wolfish growl coming from, behind me. I turned to see the man closing in. I gave him a nervous laugh and told him "The prank's over. You can stop now." But he continued his approach. I immediately packed up all my stuff, put it in my bag, and the first chance I got I bolted. Running as fast as I could, weaving out of the way of obstacles in my path as I attempted to find a police station or a ranger outpost to seek help. A crazed man was chasing me, for what reason I did not know. But what I did know was that he somehow was able to catch up with me in a matter of seconds. Unless this man was built like Usan Bolt, nobody is that fast. I decided to make sure he wasn't actually following me by taking a series of right turns through intervals of about two to three trees. And he was still on my tail. That's when he paused for some reason. I knew I could use that moment of pause to gain at least a few extra feet of distance from him so I ran faster than my body would've been able to handle.

My legs were on fire, my body was sore and I was sweating up a storm. This was more adrenaline than I was used to in my life and I thought it was over, but then I heard the man again. Sounded like he was running. He was still on my ass. So even though it hurt me, I kept running to stay away from him. I was out of breath, my heart was pounding in my ears, my legs were ready to break down completely, but I still. Kept. Running. I had no choice but to run. If I didn't, who knows what could happen? But after forever of running, I was back at the ravine where this whole misadventure started.

The man closed in on me, his form dwarfing my own as he loomed over me. My legs had given out completely and I was about to fall onto the ground and possibly get knocked out, ready to be possibly eaten by him, but he caught me and set me down gently. "Don't worry." He said in a gruff yet soothing voice. "I gotcha, I gotcha." He carefully lifted me up and held me over his shoulder like I was a piece of livestock. He then walked over to a cottage and let us right in. He carefully sat me in a rather comfy red velvet couch. "I'll be right back." He said. "I'll make you a drink. Hot chocolate? Or tea?" I replied with "Hot chocolate, please." In a slightly meek voice. He nodded and left for the kitchen, but he stopped and looked back at me. "Whipped cream on top?" I just nodded and he went into the kitchen. I just laid back and relaxed a bit. It was still kinda crazy to think about it though, and I still didn't have a clear enough head to get a good look at him. Once he comes back that is.

Shortly after about a minute or two, he walked back into the front room and handed me a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in one hand while holding a cup of tea in the other. He walked up and sat next to me on the couch as we stared into the flames of the fireplace. He then wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me in closer. We took a sip of our drinks and snuggled into each other. His fur being surprisingly warm and cooling at the same time. I was kinda drowsy, so I leaned in a little closer and he seemed to get the message. He took the mug from my hand and set it and his own drink down on the coffee table, he then gently laid me down on the couch and laid on top of me, cradling me in his arms. He proceeded to plant a kiss on top of my head and nuzzle me to sleep. But not before I gave him a kiss on the cheek in return. And together, we slept the night away, just enjoying each other's company and warmth.

[tetsunabouquet]

Heir To The Lands Chapter 20

When Things Go Wrong Masterpost

The group dragged Jaime upstairs as quickly as they could, Ty quickly drawing several runes on Jaime to aid him in his current state. "Thank you." "No problem." Ty replied, it simply was the right course of action after all. Even being supported, Jaime still needed to have enough strengths to move his legs so shins wouldn't be battered and bruised from being dragged upstairs, something Jaime didn't have. These were one of the things Kit loved most about Ty, how he just immediately did the most logical thing whilst looking at everyone with this certain confused cute look that said 'Duh?' They walked around the corpse of the Faerie guard, his green blood blending in with the vines. They were extra careful not to trip this time, treating the situation of getting the slightly sluggish Jaime out of the hallway with surgical precision. As soon as they were gone from the bathroom section, the group sped up. They needed to get out of the castle, fast. Each could feel their heart pounding with adrenaline, even little Gwenneth. The dark atmosphere seemed to be worse on their way out then their way in, as if it had been misleading their intuition. Kit was having a very bad feeling about this. With the arm that wasn't supporting Jaime, he let his hand linger near the set of throwing knives in his jacket. The group kept rushing forward, and Kit's heart leaped with relief as he saw the exit; with no enemies in sight. Kit felt his heart sweel with hope as the group left the Seelie Castle and he felt Jaime slump against him. "I think I've been deprived of fresh oxygen too long, it's making me dizzy." The gaunt young man explained, and the boys pushed him forward with a little more care . Gwenneth grinned a toothy smile. "We made it out! Oooh, I am going to L.A!" Jaime smiled at the goblin as Dru watched on with a pained expression, clearly concerned for his sake. The group carefully moved through the garden, their hearts drunk on the victory so clearly in front of them. Too drunk, as it would turn out, because peace was but a short lived thing. Just as they were lulled yet again in a false sense of ease, they saw a figure moving in the garden and a horn was blown. "Shit, we're caught!" Kit cursed just as an arrow flew past his ear. "Run!" Dru yelled, and the two boys dragged Jaime as fast as they could, Gwenneth on their heels. Dru hated how that none of them were primarily long ranged fighters, like Jules, Mark or Thais. They had brought knives to a gunfight, and that never goes well. Just when they were about to reach the more safer territory of the trees, Dru could feel an arrow sink straight into her calf muscle. She limped forward and Ty looked at her in horror. Kit was sick to his stomach, they couldn't lose Dru. But just as all hope seemed lost, Kit could hear leaves ruffling the trees before a boy landed before his feet. Kit thought he might be a year older then he was, he was handsome with fine curly silvery-white hair and green eyes that looked very familiar. "I'll take her from you, don't worry. Consider this a truce between us two, First Heir." Kit froze at the name, whilst Ty, Dru and Gwenneth all seemed entranced by his entrance. It was because of this split second, that allowed the boy to pick up Dru and spread beautiful, angel-like wings thought they were as dark yet pretty as the shimmering night sky. Before anyone could react, the boy flew off with a stunned Dru in his arms. Gwenneth looked at Kit with shock but he couldn't see that. He only had eye for the flabbergasted, panicky look in Ty's eyes and how his hands started to flutter. "The knights are approaching my King! If you are the First Heir you have the power to make a portal out of here!" Gwenneth cried and Kit's eyes snapped open just as Jaime's full weight crashed against his side, Ty no longer being able to support him as his breath began to shake. Kit, thinking of what Tessa and Jem taught him, closed his eyes and just as he saw two Faerie knights on their horses come close, the world seemed to fall away underneath their feet, the grass swallowing them.